No Time to Cry (Nine While Nine Legacy Book 1) (24 page)

I sat on my couch, laptop open. I sighed, shoving
all the feelings of the night down under, and admired my tattoo.

It was tender to
the touch, felt like fire when I lightly ran a finger along its edge. It was
already forming its scab and healing up. I rewrapped the light bandage around
my arm and re-secured it.

I opened up the
Word document folder that housed my writing, planning to pick up where I’d left
off last night. But then I pulled an actual folder across the sofa and opened
it. I hadn’t looked through this one last night.

I rifled through
it, re-reading pages I’d written a few years ago, before I’d even been
published. Ideas that I’d wanted to grow into novels, but after my first book
hit the best seller list, my publisher had wanted me to work solely on the
series, rather than branching off to another story line, another series. I’d
complied, the money was good. And the promises even better. If I were to
complete the first series and the popularity held, they would publish my
subsequent novels. Now I was relieved they had not bought these ideas. They had
no idea of them and held zero rights to these stories.

My eyes roamed
over the words, taking them in, they piled up in my head, began spiraling and
weaving about inside. The top sheet slid from the stack. I read over the
second, the third, the fourth…devouring the notes, the jotted down bits from
dreams I’d had just over five years ago. How had I not remembered these? How
had I not made the connection as it all unfolded and happened? I felt
exhilarated, and sick at the same time. I hadn’t died in the dreams. But
everything else was very nearly spot on.

How could I have
known? Where did the dreams come from? Would the questions of this new life
ever end? Or have answers?

I flipped to the
next page, it displayed a roughly done sketch. It was the tattoo. The altered
fleur de lys. Very nearly exact to what was engraved into my flesh now.

I remembered
thinking what a great book it would all make. How I couldn’t wait to write
about it. I’d jot down the basics, what I’d seen and felt, the language, the
people and places, working with Death—immediately upon waking, whether it was
morning or still dark and in the middle of the night. I’d even made rough
sketches of some of what I’d seen.

I could recall
precisely how I’d felt about the dreams at the time. Excited, energized,
captivated. Again, I hadn’t died in the dreams though.

How was this
possible?

~Chapter Twenty-Two
~        

“Gideon, it’s not the first time it’s happened. I
should have told you before. That night, when I went after her at that dance
club—”

The look on
Gideon’s face stops him mid-sentence. Such anger. Oh shit, was he telling him
about the make-out session in the hallway? Why oh why?

“There was this
trembling in the space around her, all around her…it was coming
from
her.” He pauses as if searching the vocabulary in his head for the right words.
“She was…there was this lustrous, radiance…something. And it was warm,
invitingly warm. It came from her and wrapped around me. I don’t think she was
aware of it. And at the cull today, it was there. I watched as it radiated from
her, it was faint, controlled, but it was there. Amber and streaks of violet.”

I watch as he
gestures with his hands, trying to emulate with them what I had seen at the
club. The wisps of light that grew into tendrils, coming from me, encircling
him. No one else had noticed; no one else could see it. I observe as the memory
of it settles over his face, hazing over his eyes in remembered lust.

I watch from my upstairs
window, looking down to the courtyard where earlier I’d encountered Liam. The
same huge cat sits on the bench we had sat on, as if listening to their
conversation. He looks up at me. The cat looks up at me, and I swear if a cat
could smile, he just beamed a big ole toothy one at me.

A light fog has
rolled in, but I can still see them clearly and hear them.

“I’ve never seen
anything like it Gideon. At the cull, it did the same thing, it wrapped around
her, around the cull, and she looked utterly at peace. It was so simple, so
perfect. Flawless. No word, no touch.”

Gideon’s face
was frozen in a look of alarm and shock.

“What is she
Gideon?”

As I stare at
Gideon’s face, soaking in his powerful features, my vision blurs, becomes gauzy
and I suddenly feel immersed in cool, soothing wetness.

I’m in a pool of
water. Brilliant blue, iridescent water, crystal clear, even in the onset of
dusk and the scattering of deepening grey clouds overhead.

It seems that
the water should be colder, but it’s not and it’s coming up to nightfall, it’s
refreshing.

My outfit from
earlier, the sassy little skirt and lace blouse has been replaced with a clingy
chemise, a one shouldered sheath of an antique cream fabric I’ve never felt
before; gossamer and ethereal. It’s not earthly. It’s not of our realm.

Our realm?

I sink under the
water with no need for breath. My eyes are open, taking in the view beneath the
still water. The surface I stand on is smooth slate unmarred by sharp rocks or
slippery moss. There is a path of multi-colored rocks and pebbles just to my
right, so beautiful in its mixed colors of gold, bronze, teal, cerulean,
celadon, and sapphire.

The water is
silken. I rise from its calming embrace to see Gideon at the water’s edge,
behind him the trees rise to great heights, decorated in leaves of fiery orange
tones against silver bark. The lichens around his feet on the stone bank are of
the same brilliant shades.

I emerge from
the smoothness, dripping the iridescent liquid, holding his gaze. Frozen. He is
frozen. He is in awe.

A silver mist
rises from the water, with me, around me. Spiraling, winding. I feel something
at my back as the silvered whorls make their way around me.

His eyes widen.
Focusing behind me, not on the scenery behind me, but on my back.

Strong.
Stretching. Growing. Unfurling. Expanding. Powerful. Enticing.

I see my shadow
against the mist, shown off by the fullness of the moon that has quickly
reached its pinnacle.

Wings.

My shift is
stuck to my wet body…in just the right way.

Gideon can’t tear
his eyes from me. His eyes drown in desire.

I can feel it,
pouring from him in waves.

Desire.

I will him to me
and he moves into the water, causing ever growing ripples that reach me before
he does. They caress my body. He peels his shirt over his head and I draw in my
breath sharply with how impressive he is.

His face is set,
hard set, determined, hungry, wanting…

Me.

~Chapter Twenty-Three ~

I needed to see Gideon. It had been too many days.
Almost an entire week.

I had hit a
stride with my job. An entire week had flown by and I’d managed to find a
groove, a routine, even if it did sort of freak out the others.

 I’d meet
with Michael at Elysium—Gideon had left him in charge during his absence—have a
coffee, some breakfast, then head out for the day’s assignments. Sometimes it
was just one cull, another time it had been three. One day there had been none.
That was my favorite day; I got a lot of writing done that day. I guess even
Death, or at least our department, got days off.

I hadn’t seen
Liam all week.

My brain was, as
it has been since this
adventure
began, always full of ever-growing
questions. And still no answers. Hence the wanting to see Gideon. It had
nothing to do with that super heated dream when he was treading water as fast
as he could to get to me. So I’ll keep telling myself…and anyone else who asks.
Yep…uh huh.

In actuality,
the dreams had increased to nightly, and several times nightly…sometimes even
if I dozed on the couch. Strange meanderings in stranger places I’d never been
to or seen, except in the dreams. Beautiful lands, visited by equally beautiful
people, filled with a beautifully strange language that sounded eerily similar
to what Gideon spoke, but so many words which he’d never uttered…and some of
them I understood, or got the gist of anyway.

Oh. And the one
where I fly above the tree tops, gathering something important for Uldwynah,
from within the branches, leaves and berries, for something magical—that’s a
good one too. I like flying.

As dreams
do—always frustratingly do—they shifted, twisted, merged, came back upon
themselves,
pretzeling
all night, with messages to
remember and places I craved to be. I’d wake longing to understand.

Two nights ago,
I’d
seen
my wings. They were grey, not drab, but more a pewter shade, a
multidimensional blend of warm and cool hues, and they were glistening. Wings!

In my waking
hours…I swear I can feel them behind me. I find myself looking in the windows
that I pass, looking for them in my reflection.

But my favorite
dreams are the ones of Gideon, torturous as they may be. Always so teasingly
close, but never close enough.

Sometimes, the
dreams repeat—they often repeat—almost as if I’m supposed to remember them or
glean something from them. I write them down of course. It’s all great material
for my book.

I still hadn’t
put the mysterious pendant on. I don’t have any idea where it had come
from…unless I accept the wildly impossible notion and admit that I’d brought it
back from the dream. I’ve been carrying it with me every day, in hopes that
Gideon would show up and I can have him clasp it for me, as Uldwynah had
instructed. Why take any chances, right?

Two days after
I’d last seen Gideon, I’d asked Michael where he was, why he was never around.
He only replied that he was out of town, on business. Then he’d changed the
subject.

I found myself
wondering, briefly, every now and again if Liam would attempt to play while the
cat was away, but I had not seen him at all since that night in the courtyard.
I found myself caring less with each passing day—or night. With each dream of
Gideon.

I tried to busy myself, to keep my mind off of the
missing Gideon, the
why
of his absence…and wondering if it had anything
to do with my special, surfacing abilities.

 Before I
knew it another few days had passed—close to two weeks altogether—in a blur of
culling, writing, and hanging with Serena.

Still no Gideon.

No messages.

Not a single
word.

Serena turned
out to be something of a sanity-saver. We lunched. We
dinnered
.
We shopped. We danced. I had even returned to Allegory with her and Jeremy on a
couple of nights.

Thankfully, Liam
never showed up.

Until tonight.

We were having a
great time. I didn’t have to work the next day, so we were cocktailing it up
and dancing like mad. Laughing, having a fabulous, wonderful time. A night to
rival those of my past life.

We sat in a
little tucked away booth, sweetly private and oh-so-posh. Jeremy had left only
a few minutes before. I was telling Serena all about the newest installment
that I’d listed the night before on my publishing site. A new set of chapters,
my second set, and it was selling like crazy, as was the previous one. I’d be
getting my first paycheck as Iliana Evenwicht just after the beginning of the
month.

I’d been keeping
myself exceedingly busy with writing every day after culling, and often during
the night, sometimes after larking about with Serena.

There were
occasions when I’d wake at 3:00 am, after being startled awake from a
frightening dream—or more often than not by a very good dream of Gideon that
would leave me too restless to fall back asleep immediately—and I’d write some
more.

Serena excused
herself to make a visit to the Ladies…Liam plopped down next to me. Scared the
bejeebies out of me too.

 I almost
slugged him.

“What the hell?”
he snarled.

“What? I should
be asking you that. Why are you here? Is Gideon back?” My heart did a little
flip, beat faster at the thought.

“No…and good
thing too.”

“Then why are
you here?”

“Are you crazy?
You’re writing a book? You’re selling books online?” He was fuming, steaming
angry; he grabbed my arm trying to pull me from the booth. It was my tattooed
arm. It was healed and didn’t hurt where he gripped it—well, the tattoo didn’t,
but the pressure he was using was not exactly comfortable.

“I’m a writer. I
write books. It’s nice when people buy them. Having money is fun,” I sassed
back at him. Seriously. As long as I made my culls, which I had been, not a
single one missed or mucked up, what did it matter to him.

“The topic
Iliana. The topic you’re writing about. What are you thinking?”

“That it’s
sky-rocketing on the best seller status reports, which is awesome.”

He glared at me.

“And stop
hurting my arm.” I tugged my limb back from him.

“What the feck is
that?!” He was staring at my ink.

“It’s a tattoo
Liam.”

“No shit.” He
growled.

I smiled.

“What the feck
Iliana, are you losing your mind?”

“Feck?” I
giggled. I had tried not to laugh, but I couldn’t keep it all in. I knew he meant
fuck…what the fuck. But when he got angry his accent grew thicker. I’d noticed
the same of Gideon. I almost wondered if I sometimes purposely goaded them on
just to hear their wonderful brogue pop out more starkly.

Nah. Wink
wink
.

He glowered at
me. Too angry for words?

“It’s my body
Liam. Isn’t it bad enough I’m being told who I can’t desire?”

He gave me a
scorching gaze for just a bare second, then he seized my arm back, turned it
tattoo side up and studied it.

“Hey!” I
protested.

“Why this? Why this
tattoo?”

“What? I like
it. It’s pretty.”

“Iliana…” he was
pale, “serious, why this particular symbol?”

“Geez Liam.” He
ran his fingers over the two week old ink. It kinda tickled, then felt warm.
Liam was touching me. I was too aware of his touch suddenly. It felt good. I
didn’t want it to.

He stroked the
mark. My heartbeat escalated a bit. “Stop it,” I growled and tugged my arm
away.

Things had been
going pretty well the last couple of weeks; I didn’t need to start feeling
something for him again.

“Why this one?”
He asked again.

He was not going
to let up.

“I saw it in a
dream…a long time ago actually…and then again a couple of weeks ago.”

“You dreamed of
this?
Before
you met us?”      

“Yes! Exactly
Liam. All of it. Almost all of it. Years ago. That’s what I’ve been writing. I
had all of those notes; I’d jotted down all the dreams a long time ago. Before
I met you, before you dragged me to this life. So strange. I’d forgotten all
about them. My publisher’s just wanted more of the vampire series, so all the
other ideas and possible books were on a back burner for another time. I found
all the notes on my flash drive.” I tossed back the last of my Aviation.

“Gideon’s going
to blow.” He raked his fingers through his hair…now it was perfectly unkempt. “Just
another reason I should not have let you take anything.”

“Oh Liam, I
still would have written what I have been. The dreams still happen. They didn’t
end back then. They happen almost every night.”

“Dreams.”

“Sometimes
multiple.”

He just stared
at me going very still. “What are the dreams?”

“Hey guys! Who
do we have here?” Serena had returned, interrupting the interrogation.

“Why Iliana…you
minx!” She gasped playfully.

“This is Liam.
Liam, Serena.” I offered. Good distraction. Serena was lively and always full
of conversation, never ran low. Perfect diversion. In fact Liam seemed
immediately captivated by her.

I had mixed
feelings about that. Was I over him enough to see this yet? My arm still felt
heated where he’d stroked it. I still had a smidge of unresolved feelings when
it came to him. Why keep torturing myself. Maybe I needed a nice, normal, non-
Bháis
boy.

Could Gideon
dictate to me over that choice?

Next thing I
knew Serena was singing to Liam and pulling him to the dance floor, and he looked
completely smitten within five minutes. He’d looked at me like that just a few
weeks ago.

I suddenly felt
a little low…alone. It would essentially make things easier, but it stung a
little too fresh right now. And I was tired. And why should I answer any of
Liam’s questions when I was waiting for more than a dozen of my own to be
answered still. I should steal away now, while Liam was preoccupied so
completely.

I grabbed my
coat and as I headed for the exit waved my good-bye to them, flashing the call-me
sign. Neither protested my departure as they
cozied
up to each other to some NIN. I genuinely felt a little sick. I’d been the one
cozied
up to Liam right here at this place just about two
weeks ago.

Now I wasn’t. My
new best friend was.

I stopped by Liam’s on my way home and left him a
note. I didn’t know if maybe he felt as weird as I did with the new situation,
but I wanted to clear the air in advance.

On the short cab
ride—I really needed to get a car—I made myself think of the dreams of Gideon.
I never dreamed of Liam like that. Why not? If I felt so intensely for Liam why
were my dreams of Gideon so tantalizing and provoking, and yet the only role
Liam played in mine was as informant to Gideon? Liam never desired me in my
dreams…Gideon made my breath and heart cease to function correctly, even upon
waking, without ever having kissed me. That had to mean something. It made
writing the short letter easier.

Liam ~

     
I just wanted to let you know I’m okay. Okay with this life, okay with my
‘job’, okay with you and Serena. I’m fine, just got tired, needed to come home
and sleep. Too many late nights this week.