by J. L. Sutton
“I’ll be right back,” I said quickly, dashing off before she had a chance to reply.
Only when I was securely under the corrugated veranda did I dare check to see if I even brought my camera. Walking up to the window I searched for a useable angle, my quiet steps making it unlikely for anyone to notice my presence when they were so . . . distracted. Luck was not on my side tonight it seemed though—the motel room may as well have been a bunker. There was no way I could get anything useful without physically stepping inside the room. Exhaling slowly I walked back to the car, my feet splashing through the shallow puddles that formed in the dirt.
“That was anti-climactic,” Dawn said as I slipped back into my seat.
I shrugged, hesitant to look at her. “You get used to it.”
She looked out towards the building, her piercing eyes probing the darkness before turning back to me with a calculated expression. “It is going to start raining again soon. We need to expedite this process. Mind if I give it a try?”
Was she serious? I chuckled, handing her the camera by the strap. No harm in it, aside from fate and all that. “Be my guest.”
One moment Dawn was cradling the camera in her arms like a football, and the next she was gone, the passenger door closing gently behind her. My head swung automatically towards number eight, but she wasn’t anywhere in sight. What was she thinking? Even with her ability to go unseen they would still notice the door opening. The minutes passed slowly, and I was focusing so intently on keeping an eye on the front of the building that when the door opened beside me I nearly jumped through the roof.
Dawn was once again sitting beside me, her outstretched hand offering the camera to me. The door to the motel room had not budged an inch. How could she have possibly gotten anything of note? Suspending my skepticism, I took the camera from her and began scrolling through the menus. On the memory card were six photos of the couple, taken from what could only be inside the room, sprawled across the bed in a rather compromising way. One even had a perfectly clear image of the man’s face.
“How did I do, boss?” she asked, looking uncharacteristically pleased with herself. I stared into her eyes, trying to make sense of what she managed to do. I realized it wasn’t the first time Dawn used this trick either—she did the same thing when she broke into my office.
“That was incredible,” I mumbled, unashamed of the awe in my voice. Was there anything she couldn’t do?
She smiled widely. “If I had blood in my veins right now, I would be blushing.”
Despite her strange comment I laughed freely, shaking my head as I put the car into drive.
The trip back to the city felt noticeably shorter, and it seemed like no time at all when the familiar lights of Main Street began to rush past us. Dawn playfully refused to share how she managed to get into the room without opening the door, and I was too pleased with her results to press for details. As we entered the apartment I left her in the lounge for a moment while I safely stored the pictures she took in the office—good as they were, it was going to be highly entertaining when I had to explain how I got my hands on them. When I returned Dawn was lounging on the couch, so perfectly at odds with the tense posture she adopted in the car.
When I saw her relaxed like this I had to remind myself just how dangerous she was. I was getting far too comfortable with her lately. One of these days one of us might just slip up. There were so many things to remember, so many things to be wary of around her. Especially now that I knew she could read my emotions. With how difficult it was to read her sometimes, it would be nice to have the same advantage.
“Can I get you anything? I’m sure I’ve got some bleach lying around here somewhere,” I asked, unable to resist teasing her. Her peculiar sense of taste was definitely one of the more out there quirks.
“I should never have told you that,” she said, pressing her lips tightly together so she wouldn’t smile. “Never in a hundred lifetimes would I have ever thought I would be here—talking so freely about what I am to a human.”
“No kidding,” I agreed as I took a seat across from her. “Looking back, I’d still have made the same choice though.”
“I know,” Dawn said, slowly shaking her head. “Would it sound awful of me if I said I am glad you did?”
“Not at all.” I smiled. She was what she was, and I was glad I knew her. It was that simple.
“It has definitely been an interesting day,” she mused, her eyes following her foot swaying gently over the side of the couch.
“That it has.” I stifled a yawn, and checking my watch I was shocked to see how late it was. Time always seemed to pass so quickly when I was with Dawn.
“You should get some sleep. I am really starting to mess with your schedule.”
“It’s not the worst idea I’ve heard.” I nodded, stretching my stiff muscles. I didn’t want to see her go though. I knew she would be back, but her earlier words about not having a home really bothered me. “What will you be doing for the rest of the night?”
She rose to a sitting position, her eyes drifting to the door. “I kept my plans open tonight, so I will probably just wait until I am needed, and keep an eye on you.”
“Sounds pretty boring.”
“I have the time to spare.” She shrugged. Dawn really took this baby sitting thing seriously, I’m pretty sure after what happened I had seen the last of Hyde.
“You are welcome to stay if you’d like, I’m sure the couch is more comfortable than the rooftop. It’s not much, but it’s got four walls and running water.”
For a moment Dawn seemed at a loss for words, her eyes glimmering gently in the light. “That is . . . very kind of you.”
“Seeing as how you still think you owe me, it’s the least I can do,” I said sincerely. I disliked the idea of her being out there on my account while she could be doing literally anything else.
Not wanting to give her time to think about it I started towards my room, but her voice turned me around as I reached the corner. “You know, I am beginning to grow rather fond of you, human.”
I grinned. “Likewise, tiny Irish.”
Sunlight stung my eyes as I stirred to my ringing alarm, filling my vision with tiny black spots while I groped around the nightstand. I rubbed my eyes as I climbed out of bed and headed straight for the shower. It was only when the warm water ran down my face that I remembered last night, and my whole body tensed.
Was Dawn still here? I was washed and dried in two minutes flat, wishing dearly that I took clothes with me as I dashed to my room with nothing but a towel. After hastily slipping on a pair of jeans and an old navy long sleeve shirt I crept up to the door. I realized it was a little weird for me to have extended the invitation, and I didn’t really expect her to still be here. But I still felt a stab of disappointment when I confirmed Dawn wasn’t in the apartment. I liked having her around—there was no shame in admitting that.
With her came excitement and intrigue, a sense of something bigger than myself. And if all else failed—she was entertaining. But it also reminded me that her being out might mean someone’s time was up, and that sharply curbed my selfish thoughts.
Hoping that wasn’t the case I walked over to the couch, about to take a seat when I saw my copy of For Whom the Bell Tolls lying open on the coffee table. Dawn was here after all, for some measure of time at least. Curious to see which page she was reading from when she left I picked up the book, barely getting two lines in when I heard the door slowly creak open.
I couldn’t help smiling as Dawn walked inside, looking as radiant as always. She carried something awkwardly in the tips of her fingers, and as she closed the door behind her I saw it was a cup of coffee.
“Good morning,” she said, putting the steaming cup down on the table before taking her usual seat. She was trying to keep the coffee from her cold touch.
“Morning. And thanks.”
“How did you sleep?” She sounded distracted, never quite looking in my direction.<
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“Well enough.” I nodded, taking a sip. “Anything interesting happen while I was out?”
Her eyes widened momentarily in response to my question, a dead giveaway something was off. She cleared her throat delicately. “That depends on your definition of interesting.”
I wanted to laugh, but when I saw her face I was glad I didn’t. Dawn’s guilt ridden expression reminded me of a similar one my sixteen year old sister wore when my father once caught her with a boy in the house. “What’s wrong?”
“I did something bad.” She dropped her gaze to the floor, her voice becoming strained. “Very bad.”
“You can tell me, I won’t be upset,” I urged, not wanting to see the pained look marring her face a moment longer.
“I swear I did not mean for it to happen.” She looked up at me, her expression long past pleading. Staring into her eyes for the first time since she walked in, I saw just how uncomfortable she looked. “I was listening to the sound of your breathing, calm, at peace. I have never heard it so even before, and as the time passed I grew curious. I went into your room while you were sleeping and . . . I watched your dreams.”
As the words rang in my head I could feel the surprise and shock running rampant through my system. “You did what?”
“I am so sorry Benjamin,” Dawn said in a small, broken voice, shame and embarrassment crossing her features in equal measure. “It was absolutely inexcusable of me to invade your privacy like that.”
I took a deep breath, closing my eyes as I exhaled slowly, the way she often did. It helped, a little. I very rarely remembered my dreams, unless they were nightmares, but I had to know. “What did you see?”
“Nothing important, I swear! It was discordant and blurry at best. I cannot get a clear picture unless I have physical contact, and I would never do that without you knowing. You were with your friends a lot, sometimes you were working. You were dwelling on something that happened last night, kept coming back to it, I could not see exactly what.”
I relaxed a fraction at her assurances. I knew she wouldn’t lie to me, otherwise she would never have told me about this in the first place. So was I really upset, or just caught off guard? Okay, I was a little annoyed she did it. Feeling my emotions was one thing, but I had no control over my dreams. Unfortunately, without even realizing it she was using the best defense she could against me. I had always been a sucker for a woman in distress. Between those beautiful, pained black eyes, and her genuinely repentant expression I knew I wouldn’t last long. It was almost sweet, in a way, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t milk it.
“How?” I asked, working to keep up my distressed look. It was a little cruel, and Dawn would probably see through it, but it was still worth a try. A little guilt trip never hurt anybody.
“When I communicate with other seraphim its not precisely thoughts we use. We have a way of sharing memories, any past event we can recall. It takes physical contact to get anything solid, but because of the pendants we can send fragments through, just enough to show a flash of an image, or a short sentence to get a point across. I cannot force it—there needs to be mutual consent because it works both ways. Dreams are not that far from pieced together memories, or near enough that it does not matter. When you are asleep you do not have the natural defenses a conscience mind has, so I could see without your permission.”
She was so caught up in her confession that she answered without hesitation. Dawn would tell me just about anything right now, and my apprehension began to turn into intrigue as she spoke. That was the problem with Dawn—she was too damn fascinating to ever stay mad at. Besides, I could see why she would do it. If I hadn’t dreamed in nearly three hundred years I probably wouldn’t have been able to resist either.
“How upset are you?” she asked quietly.
“Very.” Unable to keep up my disconcerted expression any longer I started to smile. “I’ll get over it though.”
Dawn sighed heavily, the relief flooding through her almost palpable. “I am so sorry.”
“We all make mistakes,” I said, taking a sip of coffee to hide my growing smile.
“Stop doing that, you are far too forgiving with me.”
I didn’t think so. I was so guarded these past few years, carrying the irrational fear that anything I invested myself in would just cause me pain. Dawn woke something inside of me—a hunger for all the things I was missing. If being vulnerable was what it took to have her around, then it was worth it. Besides, I was practically burning with curiosity. “Could it work with me? Sharing memories, I mean.”
“It should, in theory,” she said, her expression giving nothing away. “Is it something you would want to try?”
“I’m open to the idea.”
“As crazy as it sounds, I think I would be too,” she said nervously. “I should warn you that the connection is difficult to maintain, even for seraphim. It would take a lot of concentration and practice from both of us to get it right. You have to clear your mind, and perfectly control your thoughts if you want the right memory to come through. There is a good chance you may see something you were not supposed to, or share something you did not want shared. Not to mention the fact that we would need to have physical contact, which is extremely dangerous for you.”
I rolled the idea round in my head, thinking of all the possibilities. Dawn’s warning was not to be taken lightly. I wasn’t really worried about anything I accidentally saw, but was I willing to risk my more private moments breaking through? It wasn’t just my secrets I was protecting after all. I knew she would never betray my confidence, but it was a daunting prospect.
And then there was the possibility Dawn could accidentally injure me, or worse. She was risking far more memory wise than I was though, after all she had three hundred years of history to share. I also couldn’t ignore the intimacy that the situation would present, not just the deep insights we would be sharing, but the physical touch too. Thinking about touching her should make my skin crawl, but I also very much wanted to know what it would be like. I knew what my answer would be though, I always knew.
“I understand the risks,” I said soberly.
“I am not sure it is a good idea,” she said seriously, cautious as ever. “Your judgment when it comes to me and your safety is not exactly sound. You do realize I would literally be holding your life in my hands?”
“I trust you.” It was nothing but the truth.
“Why does that not surprise me?” Sighing heavily she stood and walked to the couch with exaggerated steps, crossing her legs before she faced me. “We should start slowly to make sure I can handle this. Please put your hand out, palm up, and do not make any sudden movements.”
I did as she instructed, never taking my eyes off of hers as I prepared myself. She looked just as nervous as I felt when she reached out with her right hand and gently placed her slender fingers in mine. Dawn’s touch was unnaturally cool against my exposed skin—easily twenty degrees lower than my body temperature. I found that it wasn’t repellent, or even unpleasant. Her hand felt impossibly soft in mine. It was unbelievable something so delicate could crush metal like cardboard. As the seconds passed Dawn’s eyes fluttered closed and her breathing cut off completely.
“Are you alright?” I whispered, afraid to startle her.
“I am fine,” she said just as softly, opening her eyes after a long moment. “I can do this. I know it will be difficult, but try and clear you mind. If at any point you want to break the connection just open your eyes, it will make more sense to you when it happens.”
I couldn’t stop looking at her, mesmerized by the way she stared back at me. Something was tugging at the edges of my mind, a cold touch tapping against my skull. It felt hazy and undefined, like I had yet to understand its shape or purpose, but slowly, reluctantly, I let it in.
Nothing happened.
I felt it pull against me again, but as the mental frost tried to sink its claws into me I felt it gradually slipping away until it disap
peared entirely.
“Sorry.” Dawn said apologetically. “It is difficult to grab a hold onto the connection and keep myself in check at the same time. This may take a while.”
I nodded without opening my eyes, doing my best to keep focused on Dawn’s hand. It wasn’t easy, and time and time again something would go wrong, making the hum inside my mind collapse. It must’ve been fifteen times that we tried in the space of a few minutes, and just when I was starting to think it wouldn’t happen I felt a subtle change in the pricks of the pins and needles inside my skull.
As I drew my next breath my vision became unfocused, swelling and darkening as if a wave of anesthetic was coursing just behind my eyes. The room began to fade away, plunging me into nothingness, and for a fleeting second my mind started to crumble around me.
Then I gasped in wonder.
14. Dreams
As the memory took shape around me colors began to swirl and intermingle, like wide, angry strokes of a paintbrush dancing across a giant canvas. The scene in my apartment bled away, replaced by a verdant sea of wild grass as far as I could see, broken only by a low valley in the distance, and sparse lines of trees dotting the landscape. The light above me was in constant flux, from the healthy glow of the midday sun to whole sections of space growing shady and indistinct, some disappearing entirely for brief moments before resurfacing. I wouldn’t have called it surreal, more like I was seeing through a dirty, spinning glass. Just behind me I could hear running water, but as I tried turning to survey my surroundings I found I couldn’t move.
My gaze was firmly fixed in place. Just as I was about to panic my field of vision panned across the valley without warning, falling on the grass swaying gently with the wind. I realized then it wasn’t my nose I was staring down, but another’s. I wasn’t some bystander viewing the scene from afar—I was seeing directly through Dawn’s eyes.
