by Su Williams
“It’s all about power.” His fingertips gouged into my skin. “The more they can absorb the more powerful they become.”
Nick pressed between us and shoved Sabre away from me. “Back off, James.”
“I’m not the enemy, Nickolas. They are!” Sabre jabbed his finger at the darkness outside the window. “Just you remember that,” he snarled, and prodded the same finger into Nick’s chest. They stood toe to toe, pit bulls sizing each other up, poised for battle, chests heaving, nostrils flaring, and eyes locked, unblinking. I slid myself between them, lifted myself onto my toes and broke their glare. I stared with pleading eyes into Sabre’s. Finally, he snorted, turned on his heel and sauntered away into the dining room.
“He’s not the enemy,” I turned and reminded Nick gently. His heart race against my palm. After a moment, the fire in his eyes cooled. He slid his arm around my shoulders and we walked to the living room.
“You know stuff, don’t you?” said Sabre through his teeth, as he struggled to calm the seething inside himself. Nick and I turned to see whom he addressed, and oddly enough, he was looking at me. “Before they happen,” he continued undaunted, “you know things.”
“What?” For some reason I couldn’t explain I was angry—maybe just their testosterone infiltrating my emotions. More than that, though, I was confused. Why did Sabre think an interrogation was necessary or even appropriate right now? What did the fact that I ‘knew things’ have to do with anything we were dealing with now?
“You do,” he persisted, “I’ve read enough of your memories to see it. You think its lucky guessing, even an informed guess. Like you knew your friend would die of the cancer in her brain—or the girl on her paper route—like you knew your parent’s were dead, not injured.”
I flinched. “Geez, Sabre, is there nothing sacred to you?”
Bridget, a high school friend, had become very sick, a rare form of brain cancer. I knew she wouldn’t survive it. Even when she sat in church, all ballooned up from steroid treatment, her eyes pleading. She tried to reassure me, “I’m gonna beat this thing, Em.” She didn’t. And, I had known she wouldn’t, even as I looked up into those doleful eyes and tried to exhort her. I’d watched her over the months grow from a beautiful, slender young woman, to a bloated chemo-ridden figure, then to a frail, emaciated living-corpse who remembered and forgot me all in a single breath.
When news stories reported the disappearance of a person, I knew the end at the beginning. A twelve-year-old girl disappeared early one morning from the dewy mist of her paper route to be found days later in several garbage bags; a little blonde girl never made it to our sixth grade graduation because her uncle had killed her with a hammer; a mother disappeared from the family home on Christmas Eve, only to be dredged from the Puget Sound. Nine times out of ten, I predicted whether they would return or not. It seemed almost delicate to put it that way. That fact was, I could just sense if they were dead or alive. Somehow, I just knew.
A wicked grin grew on Sabre’s face and he looked from my bewildered face to Nick’s. “A Weaver with precognition,” he said succinctly, making sure Nick understood each word clearly. The wicked grin swelled as comprehension dawned on Nick’s face. “It’s nearly unheard of. When you develop fully, you are going to have abilities most Weavers only dream of. No pun intended.” Sabre ignored Nick’s roll of the eyes.
I threw up my hands and turned away. “You are truly touched, Sabre.” I sneered and tapped my head. Sabre may be an ass, as Nick consistently proclaimed, but I was beginning to think he was, maybe, a little mental, too. I was not as convinced as he was that I was a Dream Weaver.
Sabre mulled it over a few moments, his brow growing ever darker as his thoughts engulfed him. “That’s what the Wraith wants. He came looking for us and he discovered you.”
“What?” Nick’s arms hedged me in. “Then, why would he let her go?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s greedy and wants all of us. Maybe he let her go as bait to get to us. We have got to find this guy, Nick. Strike while the iron’s hot.”
What a stupid idiom! What the hell did that mean, anyway? “Wait,” I protested, “No, this guy’s crazy. Crazier than you,” I amended. “He could kill you.”
“What about the dog? Why would he take the dog?” Nick joined Sabre in ignoring my protestation.
“More bait.” Sabre continued when we both looked at him like Eddyson hearing a funny noise. “The dog baits her. She baits us. And the Wraith feeds.”
Despite his efforts to control it, Nick shuddered around me from memories of a previous feeding. Sabre skulked around the living room, a caged feral creature. I sat quietly on the couch with Nick, curled in a ball against his warm chest. Warily, I watched his best friend as he continued to prowl.
“So, what’s going to happen?” I whispered.
“We’ll have to find him,” he glanced quickly up at my face and just as quickly away, “And destroy him.”
“You mean like kill him destroy him?” I really didn’t want to know this. Nick was talking about murder here. Out and out murder.
“He’s evil incarnate, Em. No redemption exists for Wraith once they’ve gone to the dark side. It’s not like demon possession that has the option of exorcism. They choose that life, and it’s evil. Then, they use that evil to kill people. Not just Caphar, but humans as well. They don’t think twice about driving a person to madness and leaving them to suffer in mental hospitals with delusions of hideous things happening to them. They don’t care if someone commits suicide just to escape the torments implanted in their minds. They derive immense pleasure in draining Weavers of their abilities and leaving them to die. They’re corrupt and heartless. Rephaim are the farthest thing from being human without being truly a demon.”
I shook my head, trying not to think in too much detail what that meant.
“It’s their choice,” Nick said softly. “No Weaver goes into the life of a Wraith without fully knowing the consequences. They choose the power over morality. They choose the high over ‘right.’ We believe something happens to alter their brains. The decision to become Rephaim is evil, but the power or the nightmares, or both corrupt them even more. Like drug addicts, it eventually takes a toll on their minds and bodies.”
“And he’ll just keep on, hurting people, killing Weavers, unless we stop him.”
“‘We’ nothing,” Sabre rounded on me, “You are staying here.”
“As you wish,” I bowed my head to him and he was appeased. I turned to Nick while Sabre returned to his pacing and grumbling. Nick wrapped his arms around me as I curled up close to him. “Nick,” I whispered, “how do you destroy a Wraith?” I felt him groan, resigned and reluctant.
“Well, I guess since Sabre is suddenly all into you knowing everything, I may as well tell you.” But I could still feel the thrashing of his heart, the stoniness of his muscles, his continued reticence to share this sort information with me. It was against his protective nature to expose me to such gruesome and violent deeds.
“Nick?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you think…do you think he’ll hurt Eddyson?”
“I don’t know, sweetie.” His voice sounded distant, almost defeated. He was quiet for what felt like an eternity while he measured his breaths, and gathered his thoughts. I waited. “Caphar are quasi-immortal entities. Meaning, we are temporarily immortal, though for centuries. This makes it extremely difficult to kill a Caphar. If attacked while in their corporeal form their bodies are as fragile as any other human. However, they can change into their ethereal form and ‘heal’ themselves. Theoretically, if a Caphar is bound to their corporeal phase, they may be destroyed, though there is nothing at present to accomplish this. However, if they are able to shift to ethereal before the body’s natural decay processes have broken down the tissues beyond repair, typically forty-eight hours, the spirit will still be able to regenerate the body. There are a few guaranteed, fail-safe ways to terminate a Caphar. Typically, any
thing that completely destroys the physical tissues,” he paused, and searched my eyes for something, perhaps forgiveness. “Fire, lye, acid. Unfortunately, these are not the most easily accessible weapons to obtain, nor the most discreet. The most common, readily available form of destruction is by beheading and separating the body and head so they are not able to re-unite. The physical body will commence normal decomposition. After forty-eight hours, the Caphar’s years will return to him and his body will turn to dust.” He ran a finger down my cheek, sighed and forced a sad smile. “I guess we are a bit like vampires.
“Some believe,” he continued, “that if a Weaver is in a deep link with another person and his body is destroyed, he may continue to exist, symbiotically, in that host person’s body and continue the ability to manipulate their memories and dreams. While not a true ‘possession’, the Weaver could cause the same type of effects. I often wonder how many cases of multiple personality and schizophrenia could be caused by this type of symbiotic relationship.
“Killing a Caphar, whether Weaver or Wraith, is a difficult task. Since human brain waves fortify Weavers, isolating them from any and all sources for an extended period of time would eventually cause their demise. However, some contemporary Rephaim have developed extensive abilities, we assume, through microevolution and are able to reach out over a distance to touch the dreams and memories of others. Only extreme isolation would theoretically, be effective.”
My eyes were glued to Nick’s, my heart pounded in my throat, and my brain spun dizzyingly with this influx of information.
“Alright,” Sabre’s brusqueness effectively shattered my thoughts, leaving me feeling confused and disoriented. “There’s no way we can leave Emari here unprotected. Therefore, you,” he nodded at Nick, “are staying here. I am going down to the tracks to see if there is anything residual that I can pick up. It’s not likely, but it’s all we have at this point to try to get on the offensive. I’ll swing by the house and pick up….” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the minute shake of Nick’s head. Sabre’s mouth clamped shut with a snap.
Nick glanced from me to Sabre, the wrenching of his heart visible in his eyes. “Sabre, I…this one, he’s treacherous. We never do this alone…but…”
“It will suffice. The girl must be kept safe.”
I went to Sabre and took his arm. “Thank you—for watching out for me.” Hard as river rock, his eyes glared down into mine, but he raised his hand and gently cupped my cheek. For the first time I didn’t feel like ducking away from him in fear, and for the fleetingest of seconds his mouth curled up in a reassuring smile that crinkled his eyes at the corners. A surge of comfort and relief washed over me.
Then I blinked, bewildered. Sabre was at the door with Nick. “Let no one in save me,” he instructed sternly. “For what use it is, set the alarm. It may give some advance warning should the Wraith appear in corporeal form.”
Nick nodded and clasped the wrist of his friend, his brother. “Take care, my friend.”
“And you, my friend. Guard well.” Sabre placed his left hand affectionately on Nick’s face and nodded in my direction. “She may yet be a treasure far beyond what you have already imagined.”
Who, but Sabre, would know Nick’s heart? Know of Nick’s dreams and imaginations? Despite their feral growls, the love between them remained, their friendship a bond, one to the other, heart to heart. That one would die for the other was without doubt. For one brief moment, I envied them their ‘foreverness’. So far, ‘always’ hadn’t been a good plan for me.
Again, Nick gave a solemn nod and glanced at me with a smile that didn’t reach the distant depths of his eyes. Sabre turned to go, to risk his life to defend me.
“Sabre.” He stopped and turned to me. “Please, be careful.”
“And you, my lady.” He smirked and winked. I huffed a small laugh as I walked to Nick’s side and slid my hand into his. Sabre stepped out into the night.
“He’ll be okay out there, won’t he?” I worried aloud.
“Sure, Sabre’s not just an ass, he’s a bad ass. He gets how these guys think, which honestly, is kind of scary,” Nick explained.
“Should you…”
“Absolutely not!” The intensity of his voice pierced like a knife to the chest. It didn’t help that I was still feeling the effects from my Wraith-ful encounter earlier in the day, and I was feeling like a wuss. My eyes filled with tears before I could stop them. His shoulders slumped and he sighed in frustration. He pulled me to his chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You are our number one priority. Sabre can handle himself.”
We stood at the living room window in silence and watched as Sabre strode away; his body sparkled like new-fallen snow before he vanished into a glistening vapor that drifted away with the wind. My heart raced at the thought that maybe, someday, I might be able to do that, but I chased the thought away with denial. The idea that I was a Dream Weaver was crazy. Absolutely crazy. Seriously, though, what in my life wasn’t utterly insane right now?
Chapter 23 Enter Sandman
I busied myself in the kitchen, while Nick wandered from window to window, and peered out into the night. His ‘quasi-immortal’ vision penetrated the darkness, scanned for the slightest movement. I washed the dishes, swept and mopped the floor, wiped down the counters and polished all the chrome. My mother would have been proud of that kitchen when I was done. I straightened, dusted, and arranged the living and dining rooms. Nick continued his vigil at the windows. Occasionally, he glanced into the house to give me a reassuring smile. I got the impression my nesting amused him, but I didn’t have to look too deeply into those blue-obsidian eyes to find the worry camouflaged there. I smiled back, but we both knew we were keeping up pretenses for each other. We were both worried sick; about Sabre, about Eddyson, about what was necessary to make us all safe again.
“You’ve done this before,” I said finally. Nick looked questioningly at me. “Hunting a Wraith, I mean.”
Regret eclipsed his eyes, another plea for forgiveness. “Yes.” He drew in a heavy, remorseful breath and returned to his surveillance of the darkness. “We mostly try to keep to ourselves,” he said quietly, his breath lightly fogging the cold window. He swiped it away with his sleeve. “But we can’t abide by Caphar or even humans being tortured, or killed. Or worse.”
“Worse? What’s worse than killed?”
“Insanity.” He flashed me a humorless grin.
“Oh. Yeah. There is that.” I continued with my busy work, and hoped it would chase away the images of sunken-eyed psych patients wandering the halls of a cold, dark mental hospital or bound in straightjackets in padded cells. I heard their screams, rants about macabre creatures that pilfered their dreams, ravaged their memories and vanished into the night.
For the first time in a long time, I prayed. God and I hadn’t been on speaking terms in, well, a very long time, but right now felt like a very good time to get reacquainted. Burning supplications flowed silently from my heart for the safety of Sabre and Eddyson—for us all.
Nick’s phone fractured the silence and nearly shattered our nerves. His fingers raced over the buttons in a blur of speed. I doubted the guy with the current world record for texting had anything on Nick, but who was he but a mere mortal? I went to Nick and stood behind him, slid my arms around his chest, and rested my head on his back. He finished his TM conversation and pocketed his phone. His cool hands caressed my arms.
“You are so brave,” he quietly declared.
“Naw. Still a wuss.” His chest rumbled with laughter, a sound that brought me measurable relief. “Was that Sabre?” I released him and returned to my housekeeping.
“Yes. No luck.”
“Well, you know what they say, ‘Luck ain’t even luck. You gotta make your own breaks’.”
“Oh? And who might this sage prophet be?” He turned to face me; a crooked grin twisted one corner of his mouth.
“Jon Bon Jovi, of course.” Again, his laughter brought
relief. “He won’t find anything at the tracks, I don’t think. The memories, they’re all wrong, like I can tell they’re not really mine. Somehow, I think those memories will be found in the barn.” It wasn’t really a barn, just more than a shed. It was one of two outbuildings not far from the house, just on the perimeter of the main compound.
Nick was at my side in a moment; he scanned my face, my eyes. His hands gripped my waist. I wondered briefly if he just wanted to extract the surfacing memories, or perhaps he was afraid I might collapse again. I didn’t feel his presence in my head, but it had become so familiar that I wasn’t sure if I could tell the difference anymore. He was silent as he drew me against his chest, his arms warm and comforting around me. His heart crashed against my ear, and mine raced to catch up. His fingers entwined in my hair and balled into a fist. His breath was hot and shallow on my face. His silence pressed around me, heavy and frantic.
“Just thinking?” I whispered as a tremble that had nothing to do with monsters or nightmares shuddered through me.
“Hmm, yes.” I heard the smile on his lips and wished for those lips on mine. He crushed me closer. I felt him memorizing the lines and contours of my body, and how precisely they curved into his.
And, it scared the hell out of me.
Not because I thought he was being lewd, but it felt like a foreshadowing of something to come, something ominous, something very, very bad. It reminded me of the distant look I saw in his eyes earlier. It was the look that brought more terror to my heart than the thought of Wraiths, or rape, or—death.
But, I was a cynic. Right? I was the one who didn’t believe in knights in shining armor and all that rubbish. Maybe I just needed to accept the truth for what it was; Nick was here with me, in my arms. He was real and I was safe, at least on the inside.
“Can we—try something?” he asked nervously.
My mind raced with what he could mean. He pushed me to arms length and looked sheepishly into my eyes when I didn’t respond.
