No Time to Cry (Nine While Nine Legacy Book 1) (19 page)

“I finished it. It’s fine. For now.”

We had a brief stare off…not an angry
one…just one of a completed conversation that really had nowhere else to go. I
wanted so badly to know what it was he had originally planned to speak to me
about, but my head was feeling swimmy, and I finally was defrosted inside.

I felt my bowl begin to slip from my
fingers; luckily Gideon caught it before it could cause any messy damage to the
beautiful blanket.

My head fell gently to the left and
settled against the cushions of the couch back. It felt good there. I nestled
in comfortably, my eyes drifted shut. I’d rest them for just a bit, and then
I’d ask him again about what more he needed to tell me.

I could feel him shift from the couch. I
didn’t want him to move farther away. I liked him being there, just at the
other end, even if he was out of reach.

I heard the bowl being rinsed and set
into the dishwasher. It was faint and seemed so far off from me, from this place.
I sighed. It was nice just having him in the apartment, moving about,
breathing.

I felt myself drifting away…going into
that half-awake half-dreaming place. Not too far off I could hear that whispery
voice; I loved that deep whispery voice, even though I couldn’t understand the
words murmured I could understand their meaning, almost…sort of.

 I sighed sleepily.

Gideon should be around more, around me
more. He could make it all ok…make it all make sense. I knew it. I snuggled the
blanket tighter to me and nuzzled my face in its softness.

A moment later I felt Gideon stop at the
back of the couch. He seemed to just be standing there. I couldn’t get my eyes
to open, and I was too far gone in the land of half-sleep to say a word.

But I could feel him coming closer, feel
the electric heat rolling off his body, and I wanted to reach up to him, but I
was powerless in this paralytic quasi-dream state. I felt as he placed a kiss
on the top of my head, lingering for just a moment. “I’ll get this figured out,
Milseachd.” And then he was too far away, and I heard my door close, the lock
engage.

Meelshokt
? What was that?
That was the word, the whispered word…he knew it.

Gideon kissed my head.

I smiled in my sleep.

~
Chapter Nineteen ~

I
stand at the curtained doorway of Gideon’s private room watching as they both
are leaning intently into a laptop computer that sits in front of them on the
coffee table.

The usual fire is crackling in the
hearth. The room smells wonderfully of pine. It brings to mind the holidays.

How will I celebrate them this year? Not
only do I no longer exist as that other girl, but if what Gideon has been
telling me is true, and I ‘know’ it is, then the holiday—Christmas—is, and has
always been, something of a sham.

I don’t quite know what to do with that.
A hijacked holiday. So too would be Easter. Do I still get to have Halloween?

I can hear what they were saying.

“It’s like she said. She does
not
look the
same as when she was here eight years ago. She was telling us the truth
Gideon.”

Gideon merely nods his concurrence. He
appears to be truly absorbed in whatever they are looking at.

Wait…eight years ago? She? They’re
talking about me. When I’d been visiting here before. Long before them.

My hair had been black and styled
differently. I was very Goth at the time. I still love the scene, but I’ve let
my hair go its natural color.

I have over the years transitioned
through many areas of
Gothdom
. I’ve been the Romantic
Goth, the Victorian Goth, Medieval Goth, Tribal Goth, even Faerie Goth. I’ve
had red hair, black hair, twisted and bead wrapped hair, but a few years back
I’d grown out my natural amber-honey locks. Of course this death thing has
kicked up its coolness a few awesome notches that only intense sessions with a
colorist could have achieved before. Sometimes I’m a mash up of two or more
clothing wise, but I prefer my natural color over all the dying.

Anyway, the look of eight years ago was
long gone.

I can hear within the silence of the
room the keys on the keyboard click, pause, click, pause, click…

“Are you seeing this too Liam?”

“What? She’s always been gorgeous?”

I see Gideon look at him with reined in
hostility. Then as he points at the screen say, “No. Well yes…but I’m speaking
of how she has not changed since she was roughly twenty three…aside from her
hair color and clothing choices. Her face. Look closely at her face. Around the
eyes, the cheeks, the neck, her mouth…” Gideon stared at his computer screen
when he said mouth, longer than at any other of the aforementioned features.
“No added lines, no dark circles, none of the usual ravages or changes that
time brings to any woman between twenty and thirty. She hit a certain maturity
and her aging appears to have stopped. Why is that?”

“Excellent moisturizer?” Liam shrugged.

Gideon scowled at him. “No. I think it’s
more. She’s more. I have to find out what…and what exactly is happening to her.
There was something about her before we ever came into the works, before she
died”

Gideon closes the laptop with a snap. At
the same time there is a loud slam behind me and I jump in knee-jerk reaction.

I spin around and suddenly I’m with
Eyvindur. Elysium has dissolved into a violet tinged forest.

And I’m stroking Eyvindur’s strongly
muscled flanks. I’m so happy to see him.

I leap up onto his back, my hands tangle
into his mane, and we trot off through the forest. I duck under low hanging
branches and he moves sure footedly over fallen branches from the enormous
trees under which we travel. It’s good to be with him again.

He’s my protector. I let him lead me.

We emerge from the forest into a
beautiful clearing. It’s peaceful here.

I don’t have to fear the Dark Ones here.

I walk Eyvindur across a meadow and
toward a lovely home that seems to be built into the side of a huge tree. As we
get closer I can see that it most definitely is. The roots are as tall as the
door, which as I dismount from my horse and walk towards I can unmistakably see
is the size of any normal door in my land.

My land?

Ivy grows up one side of the front and
over the doorway reaching towards the partially peaked roof. The tree/house is
larger around than the apartment in which I currently live. Paned glass windows
stagger up the front at differing levels, and bricks outline the first floor window
and front door, which is painted a deep hunter green.

It’s a place of magic, I can feel it,
thrumming through the air towards me, wrapping around me as if to check out my
status of worthiness to approach.

 The feeling recedes and I move
forward. I see steps to the right of the door, stairs that have been carved
into the flesh of the tree itself that wind around and to the back, I suppose
reaching up to the “roof” of the house, which is a cut-away portion, where a
good sized share of tree is missing up there. I wonder briefly what happened to
that part of the tree, lightning perhaps.

Another forest begins not far behind
this home/tree. I feel compelled to walk up the stairs, make my way to the
‘rooftop’.

It’s beautiful up here. There is a table
strewn with books and colorful bottles, bright little jars, and implements of
all sorts. There is a kettle…no a cauldron, but no fire. Wait, yes there
is…it’s just very low. How can you have a fire on top of a tree without it
burning down? Strange.

I’m curious about the books, I want to
open them and read them all, glean all the information from inside their
covers. I know its stuff I should already know.

I reach to pick up the one closest to me
on a small bench, resting there as if someone had very recently been reading it
and set it down for a bit.

“Oh no…none of that yet. In time
though.” A voice cuts through my reverie.

 I turn to set eyes on a smallish
woman, of indeterminate age. But her eyes are wise. And that feeling of magic
that I felt before is here now. It’s with her.

She’s on the slight side, narrow,
shorter than me…but I’m five-foot-nine-inches, so most women are shorter to me.
I would guess maybe five-foot-five. Her hair is grey, no it’s silver, at the
temples and reaches down to nearly her waist.

I watch as she gathers it into both
hands and after only a few deft movements of her fingers has it all piled atop
her head. It’s messy and yet seems stately.

“Come, sit with me. We have some
catching up to do.”

Catching up? I’ve never seen this
woman…or have I?

“Can you tell me why I’m different? I’m
not like the others in the Bháis. Can you tell me what’s wrong with me?”

“Oh,
L
ómhara
,” she laughs sweetly, kindness laces
through it, seeps into me, “there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re just as you
should be right now. In fact, you’re very strong. You’re awakening is coming
along splendidly.”

“My awakening?”

“Oh, the things I could tell you, so
many wonderful things,” she claps her hands together joyfully, “but that’s up
to Gideon.” She pats my hand endearingly. “Soon enough he’ll tell you
everything. Some of it he knows nothing of yet.” She clasps both of my hands in
hers. “Such exciting things are on the way. Oh, to see the look on his face
when he learns it all.”

“What? Don’t tease me like that, just
tell me please. I’m a knotted up mess over all of this…Gideon has no answers
for me, he tells me so little. What are the dreams? What is that voice? Whose
voice is it? What do the words mean?”

“
Shhhh
…” She
pats my hand again. “All in time. Gideon
will
tell you. He’s a good one
that one.”

She rises from her spot and rummages
through items on a table nearby—rifling through loose parchments and shifting
bottles and jars, as if searching for something in particular.

“And a good match for you.” She adds.

I’m stunned speechless. So, I just watch
her glide around her rooftop doing her thing.

“Now look at this! The cakes are ready.
We must have tea and cakes. I do make the tastiest cakes on this side of the
realm…even the Queen herself says so!” She declares with pride and smiles
brightly as she putters about readying tea.

She sets the cups and plates in front of
us and pours tea, then gingerly places the most fragrantly delicious treats in
front of me.

“Oh please, help yourself. There’s
just…one…thing…” she wriggles her fingers about in front of her, “if I can just
recall…where…” She pokes around through a small bookcase off to our right that
is built into the tree. “Ah ha! I knew I couldn’t have lost it. Much too
important.” She ambles back over to the table. “And I’ve been waiting to give
it to you.” She laughs lightly. “Wouldn’t do us any good at all if I misplaced
this little lovely…no, not at all.”

She sits down and sips from her cup,
makes a face, and then pours a liquid of the deepest amber into her tea. It’s
thicker and darker than honey, it smells heavenly.

“
Mmmmm
…that’s
better. You must…shall you?” She offers the treacle like substance. I shrug.
“Makes it ever so tastier.”

“Alright.” I agree and she dribbles a
good amount in. I watch as it swirls itself into the hot cup of tea.

“Go ahead duck, give it a try.”

I pick up the beautiful cup gently. It
looks hand crafted and very delicate. I blow steam away from the liquid and
sample a small taste. It is amazing. Indescribably delicious. Soothing, calming
as it rolls over my tongue. Rich and yet mildly sweet, nothing like sugar or
honey, it is like nothing I’d ever had.

“Oh yes, before I forget. This. You must
have this.” She takes hold of my empty hand and presses a pendant into my palm,
folding my fingers snugly over it. “You keep this with you…
always
. Don’t
let it go. Don’t take it off, once you put it on. In fact, you make sure Gideon
clasps that on you well.” 

“Gideon? Why him?”

“It’s just the way it is, love.”

I sit my cup down, opening my hand, and
gaze down at the pendant. It’s silver, maybe. It looks like silver, but it
glows from within, as if lit with moonlight. It’s intricately fashioned, it
looks to be of Celtic design—or something akin to it—with intricate knot work.
Two ravens face each other, within their talons, is a triskele. A triskele?

How do I know that word?

Beneath that is a cabochon stone, clear
in color, but not glassy or diamond like, nor crystal. It is like water, like the
most perfect water is encapsulated beneath the stone’s surface.

The inside of the stone seems to shimmer
and move like ripples or tiny waves on an ocean or lake. But the color shifts
between every shade from clear to cerulean.

“Oh,” I breathe, dazzled by it. “I
couldn’t. It’s too perfect.”

“Stuff and nonsense. You must. It’s
meant for you. It was made for you. Now tuck it away safe.” She waves her hand
at me as if to end the discussion. Her voice echoes those words in my head as I
tuck the necklace away into my coat pocket.

~
Made for you
~

When I look up I’m no longer on the
rooftop of the house in the tree, nor am I with the mysterious woman.

~
Uldwynah
~

That voice whispers through my head. Her
name is Uldwynah. How unusual. How very pretty, and powerful. How do I know
that? She hadn’t said that.

I find myself now in a beautiful—I think
it may be a ballroom—with candle filled chandeliers lighting the room, an
expansive marble floor, arched doorways, and matching arched mirrors. The room
is grand, opulent…mystifying.

Music is playing distantly. It’s
instrumental, no voices, it sounds something like Dead Can Dance—but it’s
not—it’s haunting and hypnotic and ambient as they are…it reminds me of Gideon.
It makes me feel like dancing. It makes me feel like dancing with Gideon. I
feel like twirling and spinning and gliding across the glossy floor. I find
myself twirling and spinning and gliding across the glossy floor. I feel light,
effervescently, ethereally, light and content.

At the far end of this room I spot a
desk, it may have been carved of stone, I can’t quite tell from where I stand,
and the fact that my head is a little dizzy from all the dancing, but the desk
top looks to be resting atop two carved dragons, or perhaps they are griffins.
It’s amazing.