In Your Dreams (18 page)

“Tell her,
Sean,” his EC repeated in the same silken tone, obviously unaffected by his
insults.

Stone dread
cemented Xavia’s feet to the floor. She’d seen a lot of Sean’s ever-changing
moods since he’d first lounged against the door jamb in her office with that
insolent attitude bouncing off his aura. But, in all their time together, she’d
never seen him so...defeated. So completely at a loss.

“Tell her,”
Uriah commanded from his seat beside the red-haired woman.

On a heavy sigh,
Sean finally faced her, his eyes filled with so much pain, she ached to fold
him into a comforting embrace. Stupid, really. Whatever he was about to say to
her would crush her. She knew that. And on some deep level, a tiny warning
voice urged her to run, to refuse to hear. After all, if she didn’t listen, she
could go on pretending his crime didn’t really happen. But fear of the unknown
paralyzed her. She didn’t want to hear those awful words, couldn’t face what he
would reveal.

The walls of the
auditorium seemed to close in around them, shrinking the venue to
claustrophobic. She had to get out of here. Now. But the doors had disappeared,
leaving her trapped. Trapped while some express train of truth was about to
roll over her.

“Sean,” the
red-haired woman prompted yet again—this time with undisguised exasperation.
“We’re waiting.”

He offered his
EC a curt nod, but kept his pain-filled gaze pinned to Xavia. “I’m the—”

“Don’t.” Xavia
pressed her fingers to his lips, hoping to stem the horror barreling forward,
intent on destroying them both. “Please, don’t say it.”

“Tell her!”
Uriah thundered. “Now.”

The confession
came out on too soft a whisper for such a vile piece of knowledge. “I know your
son because I’m the one who killed him.”

Christ, if he
could put his service revolver in his mouth and pull the trigger again, he’d do
it right now. If only to put Xavia out of her misery.

The betrayal in
her narrowed eyes as she glared at him made him feel lower than worm food. On
the heels of his confession, her bright golden aura dulled to muddy gray, and
while she folded in on herself, she somehow found a wall of inner strength to
remain upright. Upright, but shaky. Upright, but one puff away from collapse.
Upright, but outraged. Her lips had tightened to a barely discernible line—as
if she thought if she allowed the slightest gap in her mouth, her agony would
pour out of her in a deluge.

“Say something,”
he whispered. “Please.”

“Take it back,
Sean.” Her husky demand scraped his nerves raw.

“I can’t. You
know I can’t.” He reached for her hand, but she backed away, pulling herself
taut and untouchable. “I swear, I didn’t know he was your son until just now.
It never clicked. Your last name’s Donovan. I was told the kid was named Noah
Alexander.”

Her words pelted
like sleet. “His father’s last name, you son-of-a-bitch.”

“I’m sorry,
Xavia. It was an accident. It was dark that night. My partner and I had just
taken a call from a store owner who’d been held up at gunpoint half a block
from that alley. I spotted a kid who fit the suspect’s description running
away. I identified myself as a cop, told him to stop and put his hands up. He
turned with one hand in his jacket pocket. I warned him to show me both hands,
and he just laughed at me. He was high, I could tell. I warned him a second
time, but—”

“Stop!” Xavia
shouted at him. “I don’t want to hear anymore.” Her voice reverted to a low
rasp. “Just get out of my sight. I don’t want to see you, don’t want to talk to
you ever again. Get out of my face, Martino.”

She turned and
strode away,  presenting the rigid line of her back to him, her fury even
more evident in the stomp of her sharp heels. The auditorium walls melted away,
replaced by the familiar Bensonhurst kitchen, the Formica table, and Verity
seated as she poured tea into old, chipped stoneware mugs. Xavia and the other
Elders had disappeared yet again.

“Wow,” he
sneered at her. “Are you guys satisfied now?”

“Sit down,
please,” she replied with her usual aplomb. “You know it pains me to look up at
you.”

He kicked out
the closest chair and flopped into the seat, arms folded over his chest. “If
you really understood pain, you wouldn’t have done what you just did to Xavia.”

“I did nothing
to Xavia.”

“Right,” he
retorted. “I’m sure it was just coincidence her dead son, who
happens
to
now be a bounty hunter here, just
happened
to pop up in the crowd while
we were waiting for Sherman to let us in to this audience
you
requested.
You forget I used to be a bounty hunter. I know the only times a hunter should
be at Reception is when dropping off a new bounty or when summoned by you. And
lately, every time I’ve been summoned to appear before you, that kid has been
here. So, either he’s the Afterlife’s busiest hunter, or you guys have been
setting us up for quite a while, waiting for the opportune moment to indulge in
your malicious jollies.”

While she poured
tea into a second mug, her hands were steady, her face serene. Clearly, his
diatribe had no effect on her. “What makes you think there was any malice in
our insistence that you tell her the truth?”

  Wearing
the exasperation of an angst-ridden teen, he rolled his eyes at her. “Oh, I
don’t know. Your timing, for one thing.”

She
arched a brow. “Meaning...?”

“Meaning
you could’ve said something about our...” He struggled for the right
description. “...
common ground
before you transferred me to her
department. You could’ve transferred me somewhere else, for that matter. To a
department full of strangers where this kind of debacle would never have
happened. But, no. You purposely put us together. You made us become friends,
never once revealing to me that we were linked by my sin on Earth, and then you
watched me rip out her heart for your enjoyment. Great job, Verity.
Outstanding. Really. You guys should write children’s books.” She slid a mug
toward him, but he shook his head. “No, thanks. I’ve drunk enough poisoned
Kool-Aid.”

“Suit
yourself.” She picked up her own mug and sipped, saying nothing else.

The
silence became a maw between them. A maw with razor-sharp teeth. Sean squirmed
in the chair, crossed his legs, uncrossed his legs, drummed his fingers on the
Formica, sighed, squirmed some more, and recited the table of periodic elements
in his head. Still, she didn’t speak.

When,
at last, every cell inside him frayed from the discomfort and he would’ve
broken out in a sweat if he still had sweat glands, he surrendered. “What
happens now?”

“Nothing.”
She smiled over the rim of her mug, victorious again. “You and Xavia will both
go back to work. Same as before.”

“That’s
it? We just walk out of here, and it’s supposed to be business as usual? You’re
not going to transfer me out?”

“Why
would we?”

He
didn’t go with,
Because I disobeyed orders and probably had sex with my
offender.
If she didn’t bring it up, he wasn’t stupid enough to raise the
topic. Instead, he suggested with stinging animosity, “Because my boss now
hates the sight of me?”  

She
sipped her tea. “You’ll have to find a compromise between the two of you.
You’ve managed to work together before; you’ll figure out a way to do so
again.”
          Terrific. “Oh, sure.
Because I can easily smooth over this jagged mess.” He leaned over the table to
enunciate, “
I killed her son
. You think I’m going to step into her
office after this, and she’s going to forget all the pain and suffering, how
she wound up here because she couldn’t deal with the loss, and the fact she
killed herself because
I killed her son
?”

Still,
the sage of the universe offered no visible reaction. “She’ll come around with
time,” she replied in her usual cool tone. “Because that’s all you and she have
here: time.”

He
sighed and clasped his hands together. “Look, you’ve punished Xavia enough. You
took her son from her forever. You made her work with, and actually come to
like, the one person responsible for the hardship she’ll face for eternity.
Give her a break. Don’t make her have to keep seeing me. Move her forward.
She’s earned it.”

 Verity
shook her head. “I’m sorry, but that’s not an option. You and she must work
through your issues together, Sean. Contrary to your opinions of us, we do not
manipulate our charges here on a whim. Use this opportunity to make peace with
each other. Your future depends on it.”

“My
future?” he balked. “What future? As far as I know, I destroyed any hope I had
for a future the day I put my service revolver in my mouth and pulled the
trigger. At least, that’s what you guys have been telling me since I got here.”

“No.
What you were told was that a new future had to be created for you because you
had destroyed the life path mapped out for you. Your selfish action also
affected anyone whose life you would have touched had you not put your service
revolver in your mouth and pulled the trigger. All of those lives had to be
remapped, as well. Such a massive endeavor takes time. You serve here not only
to wait until we’ve created a new life path for you, but also to learn and grow
as an individual so you won’t make the same mistakes in your next lifetime. I’m
also fairly certain you were advised that justice denied on Earth must be
satisfied here in the Afterlife. You and Xavia would have crossed paths in your
previous lifetimes, had you both not so precipitously taken the decision into
your own hands. Therefore, you must work out those issues here.”

“Great.
Got any suggestions on how?”

“The
‘how’ is up to you. But I suggest you repair the damage before the rift becomes
too wide to ford. For her sake, as well as yours.” She sighed and propped her
chin on one fist. “You can’t say we didn’t warn you, Sean. I, myself, told you
after the sorry episode between Isabelle and Nicole’s mother that if you used
your sensory link to Isabelle without authorization again, both you and Xavia
would suffer the consequences.”

Ah,
so we finally got to it
.
He’d always known this whole Machiavellian episode was because of Isabelle. No
matter what they said to the contrary. “You picked a helluva way to punish us.”
On a screech of chair legs on linoleum, he rose. “Fine. I guess I should get
started then. I’ve got my work cut out for me.”

 “Sit
down, Sean. We’re not done yet.”

She
might not have been done, but he was
long past finished. “What makes you the one to decide when we’re done?”

“Because
one word from me can have you banished to the Chasm.”

Christ.
She’d do it, too. No doubt about it. With a huff of resentment, he sat. “What
else is there to talk about?”

“One
more thing. We’re cutting you off from Isabelle Fichetti. But not to worry. You’ll
have several offenders to replace her.”

“You’re
what?” Cutting him off from Isabelle? He was going to lose her? “You can’t do
that.”

Her
forehead pleated in neat lines. “Why not?”

He
had no ready answer. All he knew was the idea of never seeing Isabelle again
left him hollow.

“Do
you have reason to believe Isabelle will attempt to harm herself, Sean?”

“No.”

“Then
your work with her is done.” That victorious smile reappeared, and she lifted
her mug in mock salute. “Congratulations. Now, I’d suggest you work just as
hard at re-establishing a working relationship with Xavia.”

“And
if I can’t?”

“Let’s
just think positively for now.”

Right.
Because this hellhole screamed, “Happiest Place Off Earth.”

~~~~

         
Kneeling in front of the toilet, Isabelle wiped her mouth and picked up her
head. This was getting ridiculous. How could she continue to throw up when she
had nothing in her stomach?

         
“That does it,” Justin announced from above her. “Tony, call an ambulance.”

“No!”
She struggled to her feet, and the dizziness overwhelmed her again, forcing her
to grab Justin or risk smacking her head on the porcelain throne. “Tony,
don’t,” she called out.

Too
weak.

Too
late.

Tony
was gone.

Justin
wrapped an arm around her waist to support her. “Belle, you’ve been like this
for over a week now. For God’s sake, you can’t even drink water without running
to the bathroom to heave. Something’s wrong. We need to find out what it is.”
His complexion paled. “What if the tumor’s back?”

Leaning
into him, she sighed. “That’s always been a possibility. You knew that. Dr.
Regalbuto said the gamma knife slowed its progress, but—”

“But
didn’t eradicate it completely,” he finished.

“Okay,
then. So you know my being sick is perfectly normal.”

“No,
it’s not. The gamma knife was more than four months ago. Nausea and vomiting
were not part of the side effects and shouldn’t be happening now.”

She
stepped out of his hold to stand on her own two unsteady feet. “Maybe it’s food
poisoning.”

“Like
hell. Tony did his research. He’s been extremely careful to keep you on an
all-natural diet with raw foods, no carbs, no sugar, and no trans fats.”

“Is
that why I put on ten pounds in the last two months?”

“Ten
pounds you desperately needed,” he reminded her. “But now, I’m betting you lost
more than those ten.” He skimmed a hand down her cheek and crooned, “You’re
sick, baby. And if you don’t want to face it and see a doctor, then I’m going
to insist you go to the hospital and have some tests run so we can find out
what’s wrong.”

“I
don’t want an ambulance coming here,” she insisted with an exaggerated shiver.
“The lights, the sirens. I might as well call the press personally and invite
them to meet me at the ER.”

“I’ll
make a deal with you. Say yes, and I’ll take you over to the stat clinic
instead of the hospital. Dr. Moriarty’s a friend. She’ll keep your visit a
secret. I promise. No one will know you’re there.”

This
was emotional blackmail. He knew how much she didn’t want a scene—almost as
much as she didn’t want to see another doctor. She’d had enough of doctors,
enough of blood tests and paper gowns and lying on exam tables. But she’d had
more than enough of throwing up the last few weeks, too. Decision made, she
nodded. “Yes. Okay.”

“Good
girl.” He kissed her head, then leaned out the bathroom door to call out,
“She’s going for it, Tony.”

Realization
sunk in, and she frowned at him. “You tricked me.”

“No,
not really. We just forced you to get out of your own way. Get dressed. You’ve
got an appointment at ten.”