No Time to Cry (Nine While Nine Legacy Book 1) (9 page)

At the end of the quiet hallway, was my
new apartment door. Gideon handed me the keys, dropping them into my upturned
hand. No contact.

I loved new apartments. In fact, so much
that I’d had five different ones in Long Beach over the years. Call me a
commitment-
phobe
, but how does one settle for just
one style of architecture when there are so many out there to choose from, in
so many cool cities to explore?

 I had worked my way through every corner
of the ‘good’ areas of Long Beach…well maybe not all. I’d never made it to
Naples.

 I found it so exciting, the
packing, the unpacking and rearranging of possessions, the decorating
possibilities in a new abode.

I loved to explore, what I called the
discovery phase, stumbling upon all the quirky nuances of historical buildings.
For instance, at my friend Katie’s place, she had discovered maintenance walk
spaces between the walls…locked doors that lead to large maintenance man work
spaces between the apartments. Kind of creepy, but kind of awesome-spooky too!

At my last apartment, when I had pulled
up the grungy, old, seventies carpeting, I not only exposed the lovely,
mahogany stained hardwood floors beneath, but I discovered a hidden compartment
in the floor. The hidey-hole in which I had stashed away all my cash.

I felt a small thrill as I put the key
in the lock. The thrill of new things, new chances and beginnings. Maybe I
could do this. Maybe I would be okay.

I felt rather than saw Gideon turn to
leave.

“You’re leaving?” I was surprised. I
figured he would have some more reprimanding to do, some more warnings to dish
out, or at least a lecture about running off.

“I am.” He put his hands in his coat
pockets.

“Well,” I paused. There was actually a lot
I wanted to say…and ask.

But something about him made me think
maybe it wasn’t a great idea right now. But did I want to be alone? Not really.
All the excitement of just a moment ago withered away quickly.

This would suck.

 “Thank you.” Was what I managed to
spit out.

I frowned.

So strange to be thanking the man that I
had been accusing of killing me just the night before. And I was still angry
about it all, lividly so, but he looked kind of…tired, stressed out. And he
looked very taken aback by my words.

“It was already arranged for. When we
first learned you were to be coming up, don’t make me regret trusting you with
this instead of keeping you under lock and key.” He studied me for just a split
second. “And you’re welcome.”

“I’d offer you coffee, but…” I smiled
awkwardly and shrugged, hoping he’d come in anyway. Hoping he’d say Liam would
be by. Hoping he would not trust me on my own and would
have
to watch
over me…under lock and key.

“Thank you.” He smiled ever so slightly.
“But I do own a coffee house, so…”

“Ha…true.” More awkwardness as I hung on
to the door frame, stalling his departure. “Okay then…well...” I didn’t want to
be alone. “So…when do we talk this out? I still don’t really get it except for
the very basics and even that, well…it’s kind of unclear really. And I still
have questions.”

He turned and walked away.

“Really Gideon?” I growled, stomping my
foot. What was I five?

Jeez he was exasperating as all hell.

And way to good looking. Damn him! 

He waved without turning. “Sleep on it,”
he called back over his shoulder as he descended the stairs.

And he was gone.

That was it? Sleep on it? Did he want me
to stay mad and so agitated? I mean, really, how hard would it be to come in
and talk to me, explain it a little better—or a lot—and maybe do it a little
slower than the night before? It had been done in such a whirlwind fashion, and
my mind had been in such an unreceptive mode, how could I possibly be expected
to absorb it all?

I sighed, staring down the empty hall a
heartbeat, or five, before pushing open the door all the way to be astounded
with how very awesome the place was—and how very devoid of human essence.

I
stood in the center of the living room of my nearly unfurnished new apartment,
feeling adrift, hollow, and a little on the abandoned side.

I could feel the desolate sobs building
in me. Was it so wrong to want to
not
be alone? Why couldn’t Gideon have
stayed, at least for a while? How could either of them leave me to this alone, to
adjust and accept alone?

I already knew how long the night would
feel. It would seem even longer being in this new, very empty place.

 My arms craved Liam. Not that he
would allow it, but if only…

His words flew back to me, ‘I make you
remember better times. I make you feel like who you used to be. This isn’t a
good idea. I don’t want to be a diversion’.

So maybe he was sort of right. So what?
Was it so wrong to need to be held, to not be alone after enduring what I had
so far, to have a diversion? It’s not as if I’d told him I was in love with
him. I just really, really enjoyed how it felt to be in his arms, to be kissed
by him. I really liked him. He was fun, he was sweet, and he was so sexy. And I
hadn’t been kissed in so very long.

I didn’t like this feeling. It reminded
me much too much of the breakup with my fiancé. That panicked feeling where it
felt as if I may never breathe again, like I was sinking into a deep dark
ocean, one with no bottom.

I forced myself to move, to walk to
every light switch and flip the lights on in every room. It wasn’t quite
enough.

And it was too quiet. I didn’t want to
hear my thoughts any longer as they stampeded heartlessly through my head. I
pulled out my tablet and turned on Pandora, picked out my Metric station, let
the music waft and tear through my brain, my heart, shoving aside a good deal
of the unease with each song that echoed through the apartment.

I needed to occupy myself, but there was
not much here.

I didn’t know how to fill the time while
I waited in this land of limbo, not knowing exactly when Gideon would contact
me. Or Liam. When would I see Liam again? I didn’t have an excuse to go to his
place, my belongings were already here when Gideon handed me my keys.

I was going to need therapy if something
didn’t change for the better soon.

There was a couch, a pretty decent one;
a flat screen television, thirty-two inches I think; quality blinds on the
windows, but no curtains. It could still use some work. In the bedroom I found
a comfortable looking Queen size bed, a couple of pillows, clean pewter hued
linens stacked neatly at the foot, ready to be made up. Against one wall was a
chest of drawers. My things had been placed there next to it.

 I spent the next thirty minutes or
so making the bed and unpacking.

I sighed and meandered to the kitchen,
my stomach growling at me, demanding I put something in it. I opened cupboards,
the fridge, drawers, taking an account of what was there and what I would need,
not only in the kitchen, but throughout the new apartment. I made a mental list
as I made myself a meager meal of some perfectly aged Wisconsin cheddar cheese
and a bright green apple.

I took in my surroundings as I bit into
the crisp flesh of the Granny Smith. I’d need paint—this institutional putty
color was way too depressing and had to go—I was going to need lots of paint.
Curtains would be good too. And an area rug, the wood floors were bound to get
cold at night, and nothing was much worse than waking in the middle of the
night and having to cross an icy floor in your bare feet after being toasty
warm in your bed.

Speaking of the bed. The solitary set of
sheets would suffice for now—they felt to be at least a four hundred thread
count Egyptian cotton—at some point soon though, I would need to pick more up.
Someone knew what there were doing when it came to happy slumbering.

It must have been Gideon; Liam had said
that he was finalizing the arrangements.

I was happy that he had thought to get a
couch, and a TV. I was beyond ready to collapse on it and
veg
out, and I was in no mood to try to be comfortable on the hardwood floor.

Maybe for just a few hours I could
pretend everything was normal and lose myself in a movie…or two…maybe three. It
could prove to be a very long night. I was sleepy, but incredibly restless. And
it was too early yet to head to bed.

So instead I plopped myself onto the
sofa with a cup of cinnamon tea—note to self, thank Gideon for the tin of yummy
tea—and surfed the multitude of channels my cable equipped television offered.

 I settled on an Adam Sandler
movie, one of his earlier ones, before all the sentiment. I loved his recent
movies, but my heart couldn’t handle mushy tonight. I’d figure out whatever
else I needed to acquire in the morning.

For now, no thinking.

No romance.

No desire.

No drama.

Definitely no horror.

Just mindless escapism.

 ~
Chapter Ten ~

“Why
is she different Gideon? Liam asked, concern etched across his face. “She’s so different.
There’s something about her, so…”

“Is she human, was she? If she was, how
is she like this now? And if she’s not Sióg…”

“Lissa was the
Bronntanas
….
No one knows how it was changed…”

“What do we do…”

“She must be Sióg…”

“Why doesn’t she know about the Na
Síraide Cinn, the Bháis, any of it? Do we teach her?”

 “For now…”

I saw Liam speaking with Gideon.

I could see him through the window and
the sheer curtains of Elysium.

I could hear them clearly, right through
the glass, even though a crow and a seagull were having an unceasing argument
over head, making a grand racket. My attention left the window and focused on
the gull that kept swooping down at the crow where he sat staunchly perched on
the uppermost branch of a tree.

My gaze fell back to Liam and Gideon
inside the coffee house, but I couldn’t hear them anymore. A massive, blustery
wind kicked up suddenly, pushing me away from the now hazy window, and dry fall
leaves on the ground came swirling into the air. I could feel them against my
back, brushing against my bare shoulders.

 Where had my coat gone? I’d just
had my coat on, now I was just wearing some kind of corseted top.

The leaves were making my back itch
where they relentlessly struck my skin. I closed my eyes as a bundle of orange,
red, and brown blew against my face, I pushed them away with my hands.

I heard music, heard laughing. I opened
my eyes. I was on a rooftop. It was a rooftop party. Everyone was dressed
darkly.

Well, that was pretty much the norm for
the parties I frequented, but something felt off. The vibe of the party was
wrong. Ominous, deceptive. The feeling swirled around me like the leaves had
moments ago.

It was my old rooftop, and my party
decorations, but I didn’t recognize anyone.

There was the couch.

There was me.

And all the people dressed in beautiful
black clothing were pointing at me. This me, not the one on the couch. But this
breathing, confused version.

I backed away, bumping into something
warm and very solid, large, much larger than a person. I could smell it before
I turned. Honey-like, hay, sunshine, dust, musk.

Horse.

I turned and ran my hands down his
flank. I marveled at his strength and beauty.

A Friesian. A horse of war. He was here
for me. He was mine now.

I climbed onto him using the arm of the
couch to boost myself up to his grand height. He wore no saddle and I could
feel his muscles and raw power beneath me, my legs, could sense the urgency in
the great animal to leave.

He began his march across the roof, knocking
aside the ones that laughed at me. Though their mouths were no longer open in
cackling amusement, but in shock and awe, contempt.

This horse, my horse, Eyvindur—that
word, his name, whispered through my brain, through me—cantered across the
rooftop…

And right over the ledge.

No! My heart jumped and then crashed to
my stomach. I twined my hands tightly through his silky mane, squeezing my eyes
shut—waiting for the inevitable plunge. We dipped, I felt us plummet…then we
lifted, remained aloft, and we were flying.

I felt pure joy. Overwhelming elation as
we soared over the city, hidden in the night, cool briny ocean air ruffling
through my hair.

Until I saw them. The people from the roof.
They were behind us. They were pursuing us. I let go of Eyvindur’s mane and let
loose my bolts at them.

Arrows? Where had those come from?

One struck, and I watched as one of the
hideous trackers fell from the sky, spiraling downward. Then they were upon us,
my bow was ripped from my hands. The maddened creatures pulled and tore at
Eyvindur.

They scratched at my legs and pulled
feathers from my wings. My wings? I screamed. The pain was searing. My back was
on fire from the shredding of my wings by their claws. I cried out and twisted
from their grasp, fell from Eyvindur’s back, tumbling down through the night
sky, as the ocean below rushed up to greet me.