“Please.” My voice broke, I swallowed and finished on a return whisper, “Please stop talking, my love.”
“I will you answer this. Do you have a midnight soul?” he asked.
“Apparently not,” I continued whispering.
And apparently, I actually did not.
“No, you do not,” he affirmed. “Am I gonna hear that again?”
I shook my head.
“You gonna think it?”
I shook my head again (though it was perhaps more hesitant than the first).
Noc, of course, did not miss it.
“You think it, baby, you give that shit to me and I’ll remind you what makes you. We got a deal?”
I nodded.
“Promise me,” he demanded.
I drew in a trembling breath before I gave him what he asked.
“I promise, darling.”
He let that drift between us before he dipped closer and spoke again gently, his thumb caressing the apple of my cheek.
“There is not a single soul on this earth who has not done things they regret, Frannie. Multiple things. Years of doing stupid shit or mean shit or thoughtless shit or whatever. It’s part of growing up. It’s part of life. It’s part of surviving. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone finds their way. You were who you had to be. It’s just the way it was. And now it isn’t that way and you aren’t that way either. You said earlier it’s our future, not the past that interests you. But you’re still livin’ in the past, sweetheart. Let it go. Be with me. Really be here with me. Because I love you here, baby, and what we got, it’s a beautiful place to be.”
He was right.
Very, very right.
That was that past. That was the way it was and now it wasn’t that way anymore.
I wasn’t that way anymore.
I was free to be the real me.
“You’re right, Noc.”
“I know.”
The arrogance of his words made me give him a shaky grin.
His other hand came to my opposite cheek and he swept the tear that dropped there across that temple.
“I dislike weeping,” I muttered.
“God gave us a variety of ways to get hurt out and do it clean. Blood cleans a wound. Tears clean a different kind of wound. You might not like it, Frannie, but you shouldn’t stop yourself from doing it. Clean the wound so it can heal. Then move on.”
By the gods, I really could take no more.
“You do know you’re demonstrating my earlier point, being handsome, having a magnificent physique, being thoughtful, kind, patient, intuitive and wise, all this meaning you’re rather perfect, do you not?” I noted.
Noc continued his acute study of me before his expression cleared and his lips tipped up.
“You wanna think I’m perfect, sugarlips, be my guest. My point was never about arguing yours.”
This was true.
But I was done.
“Can we go to sleep?” I requested.
“Are you tired?” he asked.
I actually was.
Exhausted.
It seemed coming to terms with your wonderfulness took a good deal out of you.
I nodded.
His voice quieted. “Then yeah, gorgeous, you want, we can go to sleep.”
“Are you tired?” I queried.
“Not so much.”
“Then—”
“You’re down with it, I’ll turn on the TV. I watch, you sleep. You can’t get to sleep with the TV on, I’ll turn it off and read. Cool?”
I nodded.
Noc dipped in for a lip brush but when he was done, he pulled only slightly away.
“That was heavy, you okay?” he asked gently.
I nodded, though in truth I wasn’t.
But I suspected I would be.
“Gonna be a hard promise to keep, the promise you made me, but want you to keep it, Frannie.”
I drew in a deep breath and let it go.
“I’ll keep it, Noc,” I promised again.
His face again assumed a version of the sated contentment he’d had before. It did not run as deep but it was still there.
He was pleased.
Which made me pleased.
He dipped in for something much deeper than a lip brush before he rolled off me and rearranged us, the covers, and turned off the lights, but he turned on the television that was resting on a cabinet at the other side of the room beyond the end of the bed.
He lay with head and shoulders propped on pillows, holding me tucked close to his side, my cheek to his ribs.
I held him around the stomach and stared at the perfect hair on his chest, feeling his finger again drawing languid patterns, this time on the skin just below the small of my back.
Healthy skin, where I could feel his caress and what he wished it to communicate to me.
And I felt his caress.
But more, I felt what he wished it to communicate.
I was there, really there, with him, where he wanted me to be, where he liked me to be, a good, safe, healthy place. And he wanted me right there, and a man like Noc would not chose a woman to be right there if she did not deserve to be.
The sound of the television strangely did not distract me from falling asleep.
Strangely, it and Noc’s warmth, his nearness, his touch, his simply being and being with me lulled me to sleep.
And when I slept, I slept deep, snuggled up to sheer perfection.
Chapter Eighteen
Fallen for Me
Franka
I sat alone at a table in one of Valentine’s sitting rooms, looking into my crystal ball that sat atop its lovely pillow of sapphire-blue velvet.
I was trying to concentrate, but although I’d been in it now for a full five days, I didn’t know this world enough to understand the visions I was calling up.
Not to mention, I had on my mind the fact that the three homes Valentine’s agent had shown us the day before were not to my, Josette’s, or even Noc’s liking, something, in our depth of discussion of each we’d had over dinner the evening before, had become clear.
We had another “showing” that day and my mind was also on that, as I was finding more with each passing day the need to settle, not only myself but Josette.
Valentine had no opinion on the houses we’d seen since she was not there to view them with us.
In fact, I had not seen her since she introduced Josette and me to the wonders of the curling iron. Our only communication was through texts, notes she left and messages delivered to us by her secretary or the man who was her caretaker.
This irked me, greatly, and the longer it lasted the more irksome it became.
Yes, one could say that our time had been full since our arrival so our need of Valentine’s presence was not great. There was much to do, see and experience, and Noc was being lovely with offering us all of that.
This included his promise of taking Josette and me to Bourbon Street the evening before last, a place I knew was where I’d been spirited to upon entering this world due to the familiarity of its noise, but mostly its smell.
“Spilled booze, puke and bodies, baby, all baked in the sun,” Noc had explained the smell. “In other words, the aroma of a really fuckin’ good time.”
I did not agree.
That was I did not agree until he introduced Josette and I to hurricanes, which were delicious, and jazz, a music that was extraordinary.
Halfway through hurricane one, we’d commenced having great fun and met the many fast friends around us who were a delight (and who I would not then remember even if they walked up to me and offered me an embrace, such was the potency of hurricanes, something which Noc told us to stop partaking of at one, and Josette and I had each had three).
Through this experience I was realizing that my preference for my own world was partly my loyalty to it as well as my familiarity of it.
Fleuridia was much different than Hawkvale, which was much different than Lunwyn.
/> But they all were marvelous, in their own way.
As was this world, it’s liveliness, fast pace, music, food.
I simply had to open my mind to it.
And being on Bourbon Street there was no way you could keep your mind closed. You became one with the mood, that mood being revelry and frivolity, and were swept away by it. And one could most assuredly say being swept away with revelry and frivolity was a joyous thing.
But even if we had not liked what we had seen during the house showings we’d had, Josette and I would eventually find a home and then we would need to settle into the new lives we’d chosen. It couldn’t all be shopping, eating and frivolity.
It could, of course. We were wealthy enough to have this. But then it might become boring, and when frivolity became boring, what did you do after that?
So settling into the lives we’d chosen it was.
And for me to do this required Valentine.
Not to mention, we had plans for Circe and the Dax Lahn of this world and there had been no time to waste…now there was even less.
It was on that thought I sensed someone in the hall. I turned in my chair and saw Valentine walk past the doorway.
“Sister,” I called.
It was unlikely she didn’t hear me but there was a moment when I thought I would have to rise from my chair and follow her before she finally retraced her steps and filled the doorframe.
“Franka,” she greeted.
I sensed immediately all was not well.
This was not by look.
It was by feel.
I stood, examining her closely. “Are you well?”
Valentine walked but a foot into the room and lied, “I am.”
“We’ve not seen much of you,” I noted carefully.
“I’d been spending a good deal of time in your world,” she stated. “This means there’s a good deal to see to now that I’ve returned to my own.”
A likely explanation.
But not a truthful one.
Before I could ask after it, her eyes dropped to my crystal and came back to me.
“You practice?”
I shook my head. “I’m searching for Frey.”
She nodded. “Of course. You’re curious, as you would be. The child is born. A girl. They’ve named her Aurora Eugenie.”
I blinked at the brusque delivery of this important news.
“Frey and Finnie’s child has been born?”
“Yes. As has Circe and Lahn’s. A boy. They’ve named him Ashur. An odd choice, being of our world, but ancient, the Assyrian god of war. But perhaps it will become a prophetic one.” She offered me no opportunity to make comment, she carried on, “Tor and Cora have not yet been delivered of their joy but it could be any day now. And as you know, Apollo and Madeleine have had their Valentine.”
I could not believe what I was hearing.
“I knew no such thing,” I shared.
Her head twitched, but she replied simply, “Well, they have.”
“When did all this news come?” I asked.
“Circe and Lahn, just yesterday. Finnie and Frey, I found out later that it was occurring as I was spiriting you to this world. I’m afraid I was lax in keeping track of Madeleine but discovered that wonderful news prior to your departure from your world. I’m afraid I was also lax in sharing it.”
She was lax indeed!
“Did you not think we would wish to hear this news?” I queried, tamping down my annoyance due to her queer demeanor.
“You’re hearing it now.”
I studied her and repeated, again carefully, “Things are not well.”
“They are,” she returned and again shifted her gaze to my crystal before looking back to me. “And I’ll note, if you wish any news of the others, you simply have to seek them out yourself. You’ve been busy, this I know. But I’m not a messenger, my sister. If you want to know,” she tossed a hand lazily toward my crystal, “look.”
She was correct.
She still could have told me.
I let that go and shared, “I actually wasn’t looking for the Frey I know. I was looking for the Frey of this world.”
Her brows rose. “And why would you do that?”
“Curiosity,” I replied. “Noc has explained that the two worlds are unbalanced in regards to that part of the equation. Noc and I both are interested in understanding, as we provide a kind of balance to the loss of Cora and the loss of the me of this world, how the situation with the Frey of this world and the Sjofn once of my own balances between the universes.”
“The Frey of this world was in need of money to start his own custom furniture business,” Valentine began to explain instantly. “Thus some time ago he sold his sperm to a sperm bank. Perhaps a rash thing to do, but with his IQ and other charms, a smart one for he was unsurprisingly remunerated very well for it. This sperm was selected by Sjofn and the lover she’s married since coming to this world, and it has been selected twice. They have a son, Viktor, and a daughter was just born to them, Aurora Eugenie, both children Sjofn carried. Quite the coincidence, unless you understand the destiny at work.”
I stared at her.
She carried on.
“To fully assuage your curiosity, Frey of this world lives in Boise, Idaho with his wife, who is barren. His custom furniture business is quite the success now that he’s put a goodly amount of time, effort and talent into it. He sells furniture across the country. And they’re raising three children, all of Vietnamese descent who they adopted from that land. He’s quite happy, quite in love and quite proud of his family, having no idea he has a son and daughter of his seed, nor will he ever know. However, Sjofn does know as she’s seen photos of the donor she selected, which was one of the reasons she selected him. If possible, balance must be maintained and that is not lost on our deposed princess.”
“Well, that answers that,” I murmured, and it did, even if some of it I didn’t quite understand.
“Now, if that’ll be all…” she trailed off doing it moving out the door.
If that’ll be all?
I hadn’t spoken directly to her in days!
I took a step toward her, calling, “Valentine.”
She stopped, turned to me and again lifted her brows, doing all with clear impatience.
“There are things we must see to,” I told her something she had to know.
“Agreed, and we shall, after I see to the things I need to see to,” she returned.
“Can you perhaps share when you feel this would be?” I requested.
She tipped her head to the side. “Do you not have enough to occupy your time?”
“Of course I do, however, in the case of Circe and Lahn—”
“Yes,” she interrupted me quickly. “If you’d like to carry on with that, be my guest and keep me apprised.”
She finished that again turning to leave.
“Sister,” I said sharply, keeping tight hold on my displeasure.
And concern.
She turned back on a sigh.
I held her gaze steady. “Things are not well.”
I saw her jaw tighten. “I’ll not answer that again.”
“Things are not well,” I repeated.
“Franka, I have little time for—”
I took a step toward her and quieted my voice. “I know things are not well. I don’t know what is not well, but I know whatever it is is troubling you. And you need to know I know, so you’ll also know I’m here to listen and help should you have the need.”
She turned her head away and it appeared she was collecting herself before she turned back and the remoteness was gone.
I did not have the Valentine I knew returned when she again gazed at me but at least she’d removed the shield she’d been holding up against me.
And what I saw made my breath catch, I couldn’t quite read it, but I most assuredly didn’t like it.
“You’re right, ma petite sorcière,” she said softly, “things are not wel
l. I find I’m experiencing something I had not thought I ever would. And I’m having some difficulty finding my way around it. I wish to do that on my own, but,” she lifted a hand when I opened my mouth, “if I should fail to find that way, I will take you up on your offer.”
I nodded and pressed no more. I knew women of her ilk for, until very recently, I was just that kind of woman.
“You’re also correct,” she continued. “You’re here and our plans for Circe and Dax Lahn need to commence. I just…I simply…” Again it seemed she was collecting herself before she finished, “This is not something I can do right now.”
She’d been seeing to her business but she could not see to that business.
That business.
I studied her carefully and at what I finally read, I felt my throat constrict.
By the gods, she’d had her heart broken.
Gods, the despair I now saw hidden deep in her eyes was that she’d lost a lover.
I took a step toward her, whispering, “Valentine.”
I saw her body brace. “Please, Franka, don’t.”
I stopped moving.
“All will be well,” she lied.
I nodded and assured her of the only thing I could assure her of in that moment, or at least all she would allow.
“I shall begin with Circe and Lahn. I’ll keep you apprised.”
She dipped her chin. “Thank you.”
Before I could utter another word, without a glance back, she swept from the room.
I stood staring at the empty doorway for some time, my heart heavy for my friend, feeling some frustration her pride forced her to block the efforts of help of those who cared about her.
And it was not lost on me that perhaps, in the past, those who cared about me felt the same with my prideful ways.
If this was the case, it was good that Noc had delivered me of that on our first night of normal, for now I knew the pain of having pain without allowing oneself to seek solace was much akin to the pain of caring about someone who refused solace offered.
I heaved a sigh and moved back to my crystal ball, fluttering a hand over it to clear the blue smoke that drifted through it and called up the this-world Lahn.
When I did, regardless of how often I’d observed him, I found myself surprised at just how easy he was to observe.
Midnight Soul (Fantasyland #5) Page 41
