“Today was the day...”
They reached the walkway leading them to the side entrance where, by the bells tolling in the background, a group of surgeons waited to accept her into their care. “What was today?”
She closed her eyes, a line of blood dripping down her chin. “I’m sorry, I was going to...”
“Going to what?”
“Leave.”
There was no one at the entrance. Perhaps everyone was already dead.
Sonall pulled her limp body off the horse and carried her into the fortress, his feet traipsing over bloody tile toward the inner sanctum where one other person still breathed.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Devon was the first to wake up and greet the morning sunlight streaming through the bedroom window. It landed on Danielle as well, her face red from crying and hair mussed from tossing and turning half the night. He smoothed her bangs before reaching above his head for a well-deserved stretch.
She woke long enough to stick her face in the pillow and fall back asleep. She muttered something about how nice it smelled. Devon stopped stroking her hair. That was Alicia’s scent on that pillow.
Footsteps hurled toward the bedroom door. Devon’s eyes shot open.
Before he could intercept his girlfriend at the door, Alicia entered. Her smile faded the moment she beheld the scene.
“Oh my God.” Sweet, boiling rage smacked Alicia across the cheek. She dropped her purse and clenched her hands into indestructible fists. “Devon!”
“Holy shit.” Danielle tried to get up, but her clothes were strewn across the bed and on the floor. “Alicia?”
She was beside herself, scrounging for words to scream while Devon leaped out of bed, his nudity only temporary as he grabbed the first pair of jeans he could find. Danielle took the opposite approach. She pulled the covers up around her shoulders and considered suffocating herself with the nearest pillow.
“What kind of sick joke is this?” Alicia’s eyes darted between Devon, putting on the last of his clothes, and Danielle, still sitting naked in their bed. “Danielle?”
She held up a hand. “This isn’t what it looks like…” Dear God, she uttered one of her least favorite lines ever! “We can explain….”
“You can explain fucking my boyfriend?”
“We didn’t have sex?” She regretted it the moment she said it.
“You expect me to believe that?” Alicia stomped over to Devon’s side of the bed, snorting in disgust when she discovered the discarded condom in the wastebasket. “I come back here and find you in bed with my ex?”
“Would you let us explain?” As if there was any way for Danielle to explain this.
Alicia hauled ass to the bedroom door. Devon attempted to approach her once he had his jeans on, but Alicia held up her hand, fire fuming from her face.
“Don’t come after me. Don’t talk to me ever again.”
The door slammed shut behind her. Devon looked to Danielle. “Well, that was…”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything.” Devon sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you feeling any better?”
Danielle’s mouth twitched. “Dunno. I’m not even sure what happened to me last night… after…” Her words staled in her throat.
“Yeah, that was kinda scary.”
“Look,” she released the blanket from her naked body. “I don’t blame you for anything.” Danielle got up, on a mission to find her underwear before anything else. “I think…” She stopped long enough to sort through her wrinkled clothing. “I think you’re not so bad.”
Devon tried to not stare at her breasts when she stood before him and snapped her bra back into place. “What do you mean by that?”
“You know.”
“Well…” He would, however, indulge in her zipping up her jeans. “I am single now.”
Her white T-shirt almost didn’t make it on her body because she laughed too hard. Blond hair became a sundry of golden hues in the sunlight. “You’re funny.”
“What?”
She sat on the edge of the bed to put her socks on. “You’re serious? You’re asking me out? To date you?”
“When you put it that way, yeah, fuck that idea.”
Danielle raised her eyebrows. “Look Devon,” she stood up, “you’re a fine guy, but…”
He frowned. “But…”
“It wouldn’t work. I mean, you’re way younger than me, you’ve got different ideals… and let’s be real, I would cheat on you with a woman the first chance I got.”
“I don’t mind. I mean… we could be open.” Desperation never sounded good this early in the morning.
“That’s sweet, but not fair to you.” She stuck her feet into her shoes.
“So last night…”
“We had sex.” Danielle put her hand on the doorknob. “Nothing more.”
“One-night stand?”
She opened the door. “I think that goes without saying.”
Devon got up before she could leave, but she held up her hand to stop him from trying to approach her. “No?”
“No.” She gave Devon the same hard expression she had the first day they met. “Don’t come for me. Don’t go looking for Alicia, either. Neither of us are probably a good fit for you, especially right now.” She left.
Devon stared at the floor before him. He knew he was stupid to believe anything romantic could occur between them. He was even stupider to have lost Alicia over it as well, although he supposed it was for the best.
Still, did it have to suck so much being alone like this?
***
Until lunch, Miranda’s birthday was pleasant. She and Heidi spent the better part of the morning getting their manicures and facials at a local spa. This was, of course, laden with innuendo like, “Will I need to bring a comb with me when I go south of the border or does the birthday girl still mow the lawn?”
After their sabbatical, Heidi announced that lunch would be her treat at any place the birthday girl wished to go. They decided upon an outdoor café at a busy intersection, where the hostess sat them next to the street to the chorus of engines and honking horns.
“How does it feel to be at the peak of your sexual prime?” Heidi asked.
Miranda hailed a waitress. Wasn’t she in the mood to have a salad? How about Heidi? Surely, peering at the menu and making their intentions known to the waitress was much more appetizing than talking about this yet again.
“Tell me,” she began, once the waitress was gone again. “Why are you so interested in my love life when all we do is screw like rabbits every few weeks?”
Her bluntness caught Heidi off guard. “Because one of these days you’re going to turn me down because you’ve finally got yourself a real girlfriend.”
Heidi changed the subject to her latest project as an aspiring painter, which Miranda found interesting since she too shared a small passion for sticking oils on canvas. Except Heidi was a serious student of art, whereas Miranda had some supplies lying around her spare bedroom-turned-makeshift-studio and a few completed pieces she would never consider letting see the light of day, or anyone else’s eyes for that matter. She painted to de-stress and had no intention of taking it any further. All the great artists would laugh at her lack of technique.
Her date excused herself to use the restroom. During the wait, Miranda noticed a few other diners enjoying a cigarette. Indoors was smoke-free, but outside? In those days, it was a nicotine free-for-all.
She slid her hand into her purse and withdrew the single cigarette. Two men sat at the table behind her and couldn’t contain their voices.
“Man, I’m still buzzin’ from that shit,” Clyde remarked as he settled into his seat. A stream of smoke came from Miranda’s chair, but he paid her no attention. “We need to do that again as soon as possible. Playing live will always trump everything else.”
The scrape of a chair across pavement heralded Devon’s arrival. “Yeah. It was pretty awesome.”
“A little more excitement, please.”
“Sorry, I’m a little distracted at the moment.”
“Why?”
The trickle of Miranda’s smoke changed direction with the breeze, and some of the tobacco wafted beneath Devon’s nose. “I broke up with Alicia this morning.”
Clyde’s mouth dropped. “No fucking way. I thought you two were sorting your shit out?”
Devon glanced around to make sure they were alone. He had no idea that Miranda inadvertently eavesdropped. “She, uh, caught me…”
Clyde tilted his head.
“…In bed.”
“Yeah?”
“With another woman.”
“Wait… you got laid last night?”
“Yup.”
“With another chick?”
“Yup.”
“With… sex…?”
“That’s how it goes.”
“Damn! Was it someone from the show?”
“She was there, yes.”
“When did this happen? There was no chick there when I left your place.”
“Yes, there was.”
“What? No. I mean…” Clyde’s face paled. “Except for Danielle.”
Miranda froze, fingers slipping against the lighter in her purse. Suddenly, she knew why she somewhat recognized Devon’s voice.
He, on the other hand, slumped farther into his chair. “I may have slept with her.”
“You fucked Danielle?”
“Some respect, please?”
“Dude!” Clyde slammed his hands against their table. The waitress, who was about to approach, chose to go to another table first. “What the hell is your secret? You need to write a book about seducing lesbians!”
“She’s not a lesbian.”
“Still, can’t imagine her wanting your dick. What did you do? Stud it in diamonds?”
“Yes, Clyde. A diamond-studded dick.”
Miranda lowered her iced tea. As Devon continued to skirt any question about Danielle, let alone about sleeping with her, Miranda inhaled her cigarette and told herself that this shouldn’t surprise her at all. Even if Devon was practically a fetus. Even if he was bland, even for a man. Even if Danielle could do so much better if she insisted on screwing a man on a lark.
Heidi returned, and the buzz of the city drowned out any conversation occurring between Clyde and Devon. Miranda laid her arm on the table and bade her lunch-date to give her a manicured hand.
Although they were not dating, let alone a serious couple, Miranda held onto Heidi’s hand until their salads arrived. She didn’t care what Heidi had to say. She didn’t care who looked at them. She certainly didn’t care if her blood boiled and her brain rang with disgust. She simply wanted to hold a woman’s hand.
As Heidi babbled, Miranda daydreamed of sad possibilities, an unfair world, and a solitary ring in her bedroom screaming betrayal.
She hurt. Yet Heidi grinned as Miranda squeezed her hand again.
Heidi knew her well enough… not all of her secrets, by far, but enough about Miranda’s personality to know what to expect in certain situations. And Miranda was starved for romance, although she didn’t think Heidi was the same type as her.
She wanted to hear that one day. She wanted to hear, “Hottie’s dating somebody.” But the face she saw in her mind was not Heidi’s. Someone else. Someone whose name sparked that charade and made Miranda nibble on Heidi’s knuckles in anything but affection. It was all she was used to getting, and it was all she knew how to give until somebody else was in her arms.
***
Devon sat in his apartment with Clyde, who listened to the whole tale of what happened the night before. The words came easier now that they were no longer in public.
“You’re gonna try to get her back, right?” Clyde said, referring to Alicia. “You love her, don’t you? I mean, you can’t date…” His voice trailed off before he could say Danielle’s name.
“No,” Devon grunted, although he wanted to say, “I’d like to.” He cupped his hand and glared at the snotty carpet beneath his feet. His success with Danielle the night before, or at least leading up to the spontaneous regression from hell, put a fire of delusion in his mind that they could possibly have a relationship.
Yet he knew it was impossible for the same reasons Danielle did. They were two totally different people from two totally different parts of life with two totally different sets of needs. But it was bliss, for once, that they should share the same exact necessities for one night.
“Yeah.” Clyde shrugged. “Face it, that was a one-time deal.”
“Shut up.”
“You know what? I will not shut up.” The eyes Devon met were cold, calculating, and anything else so unlike his best friend. “You’re an idiot. I may not understand this whole reincarnation-save-the-world bullshit, but I do understand that you’re getting hurt and having your life destroyed by this other woman. Your dick says ‘fuck her,’ but look where that got you! You don’t even know her! I’m sick of watching her yank on your dick like this! Alicia may have been a bitch, but at least she was honest about it. This other woman? You don’t know her.”
The reiteration pulsed against Devon’s subconscious. He knew her. He knew her better than any other person on that planet. Their history together was long, strong… a partnership so clear in Devon’s memory that he…
He doubled over, his hand slapping against his forehead as a wave of pain crashed into his stupid, feeble brain. Even Clyde lowered his arms and forgot what they were talking about.
“You okay, man?”
Devon was going to vomit. His entire stomach was in a knot, and his head hurt so badly it was like a posse of banshees screaming at each other between his ears.
Memories flooded again. This time, the torrent was so strong that Devon would not be the same after the storm finally subsided.
Sulim stands in the doorway. She’s so pensive that whatever she’s holding in will likely destroy me as well.
Devon sank to the floor, pulling his hair while tears of pain and self-rejection streamed down his face.
Another woman is in the room with her. I hide from them. They can’t see me, but I see them – fighting, altercating, arguing. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but their voices cut me like sharp blades. Every movement they make around each other suggests that they would rather seek comfort from the other person, but their anger is too great to show that kind of affection.
“You lied!” Sulim is sobbing. She covers her face and turns away, the other woman attempting to go to her. “You always lied!” I’d sooner be the one to hold her than that woman.
But I’m not going to have that privilege today. The other woman takes her into her arms. A blue ring twinkles on her hand. I’ve seen it before. I know it.
I know her.
Cairn.
“Shit, dude!” Clyde debated whether to touch his seizing friend. Devon writhed in agony as his skull split and memories once locked away came pouring out of its crack. His voice reached a pitch sending a ghost-like chill down Clyde’s spine. “What the hell do I do?”
Devon gained control long enough to grab Clyde’s leg and choke, “Get me to him!”
Clyde was too panicked to know that him was Master Ramaron Marlow, the only man in the universe qualified enough to deal with the regression exploding in that small apartment.
Besides, how would he get Devon there when he had no idea how to activate that tattoo’s properties? Could he even get to the tattoo with Devon thrashing on the ground like that?
Plan B. Grab Devon’s phone off the coffee table and call the only other person who might know what the hell to do.
TWENTY-NINE
When Clyde’s call came, Danielle was watching one of her favorite movies. Something specifically chosen because it was the least likely to remind her of life.
So when her phone rang, she turned up her TV.
But it persisted, to the point Danielle finally picked the damned t
hing up. After all, it could’ve possibly been an emergency. Maybe. It had better be.
“Thank God you answered!”
“Who is this?” That was Devon’s number, but not him speaking.
“You’ve got to do something. Devon is freaking the fuck out!”
“What’s happening?”
Two thumps blasted into the phone as Clyde futilely kept Devon’s body from rolling off the couch. “I don’t know! He’s having a seizure?”
Devon snatched the phone from his friend’s hand. The horrid voice on the other end almost made Danielle wretch – that timbre was a far cry from the melodic song voice he performed the night before.
“What’s wrong?” Danielle asked. “It’s just a seizure, right?”
“Help me.” He stumbled back onto the couch. “I think I’m…” He suppressed a gag. “Fuck me, it hurts!”
“What’s wrong?”
Clyde grabbed the phone back from his friend. “Please come help! I don’t know what to do for him!”
Danielle recalled her early childhood seizures, when the mini-regressions were so violent that adults fixed her to beds with sheets to keep her from hurting herself… and others. “Tie him down. I’ll be there soon.” She hung up and flipped her phone shut. Outside her window, the flippant golden butterflies of souls yet to be reborn fluttered, attracted to the energy of a soul about to regress.
***
Clyde held Devon down on the couch by the time Danielle finally arrived. Before Devon could slip into another period of frantic spasms, Danielle shoved Clyde aside and went to her partner. She told Clyde to go home – she would shoulder the responsibility of taking Devon to the only man she trusted.
The closest door was the one leading back outside, and with any luck, they would appear in Marlow’s cog-laden office instead of showing Devon’s writhing ass off to the rest of Earth. Last thing either of them needed was someone calling the cops.
“I need you to get a hold of yourself long enough to walk through that door,” she said. Devon nodded, but they knew that controlling regressive seizures was easier said than done. At any moment, he could punch her in the face and knock himself unconscious on the coffee table.
Rebirth (Cross Book 1) Page 30
