Rock Star (Dream Weaver #2) Page 4

  Could I make it to the door unseen, unheard? Peeking around the corner to my left, I found a modern kitchen with black marble counter tops, and beyond that, a small dining area with sliding doors leading out the back of what, I now knew, was definitely someone’s home. Two steps led down to the wide open living area with one huge barren wall with inset speakers that acted as the screen for the reverse projection TV that hung from the ceiling under the balcony on the floor above. Another nudge of familiarity poked at me. A long overstuffed, black sectional and two matching recliners faced the screen; and at the far end of the open room was a formal dining table large enough to seat ten, a corner fireplace and the biggest bay window I’d ever seen.

  And I had seen it before, though I couldn’t quite remember when. This area of the house niggled at my memories. I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples trying to force the memory to surface. There were vampires here—there had been, but they were gone now, driven away by…I couldn’t remember. But, vampires aren’t real—Are they? The house felt both safe and nocuous at the same time. Fear and longing shuddered through me. I wanted to go home. Home to familiar and safe—to normal; where everything either soothed me or scared me—but not both at once.

  The door to the outside lay only feet away. The murmur of voices drifted over the banister from one of the rooms upstairs. Curiosity tugged at me, but fear and freedom pushed my feet toward the door and home. My coat hung on the oak coat tree by the door, so I slid it on. My fingers trembled on the knob and I eased the door open with a quite shush. Frigid air blasted my face and caught my breath. Gingerly, I pulled the door closed behind me and scanned the yard. My urban orange CX9 was parked in front of the garage, my keys thumped against my hip in the pocket of my coat. Sucking in my breath and my courage, I darted for my car. I wanted to go home. I wanted away from this strange house, with the distant memory of a strange man that lured me here and ensnared me. I wanted Eddyson and my fuzzy, zombie sheep jammies, and the safety of my security system—and Pinky, my stun gun.

  My feet skated on the ice as I got a few feet from my car. My arms flailed as I tried and failed to find some purchase. I was about to hit the ground—without a doubt. As my body descended to the icy hard ground, a flurry of sparkling snow whirled around me, twin tornados of ice evolved into strong arms that caught me before I went down.

  “Emari,” the chocolate-eyed man said as he righted me.

  “Let go. Let me go.” I writhed in his grasp, a worm evading the fisherman’s hook.

  “Emari, please. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Let me go. You can’t keep me here against my will. I’ll scream,” I warned, and fished through my mind for escape plans.

  The dark-eyed man grumbled in frustration and clamped a hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry, Em. But I can’t let you go like this.” He wrapped me in his steely arms.

  “Sabre, don’t…” came a voice behind me; the voice of the second cyclone.

  But it was too late. Darkness ensconced me and my body melted.

  * * *

  Consciousness drifted into my mind like smoke snaking through wood. My eyes drifted open and I bolted upright. I wasn’t in the gloomy recording studio, but the dim sunken living room with the giant theatre wall. I rolled off the couch into a predatory crouch, and tried to convince myself I could totally kick ass if they came at me again. Damn! Where is Pinky when I really need her? Her ten million volts would sure come in handy right about now.

  The stairs up to the next level were brightly lit like a beacon to guide my way. But only silence spilled from above. I drifted into the cusp between the dimness and light, listened to the nothing that chilled me to the bone. That second cyclone said a name. Sabre. What? Like the sword? The name was drenched with familiarity. I stalked up the stairs like a robber, painstakingly silent, and aware of every rustle of my clothes, the shush of my feet on the carpet, the blast of my panicked breath. Carefully, stealthily, I peeked around the corner to the second set of steps, and probed the silence. The bones of this newer house didn’t creak like my cottage in the woods. I didn’t know who or what awaited me at the top of those stairs. Was I a hostage sure to face pain and be forced back down to the dim ‘music’ room? Or was I among friends that I just didn’t quite remember? But why wouldn’t I remember?

  I glanced once more at the front door, my escape hatch, before I headed up the stairs to the next level. Somehow, I didn’t know how, I just knew that my answers lay upstairs, in one of those less familiar rooms. There were no voices to draw me, no sounds to follow, just a knowing that a part of my life existed up these stairs and down this hall. My answers, my solutions lay past all the closed doors to the last one that was ajar a couple of inches, and glowed ill-omened around the edges like a passage to another realm. Another couch stretched behind the railing, a higher viewing point for the gigantic movie screen below. The light from within cast a bright stripe across the floor and the railing, and sliced the couch in two.

  I edged closer, silent, barely breathing, listening for any sound that might give me away or reveal the occupant of the golden lit room. Through the bright crack, I spotted the corner of a large desk in a deep varnished mahogany. I eased myself closer. An wingback office chair sat behind the desk and I spied a man’s elbow, resting on the arm of the chair. I leaned toward the shaft of light and was rewarded with the sight of half the man’s face; his lower lip rested on point of his steepled fingers, his dark eyes and chestnut hair. He was statue-still, deep in thought. Then, his body shifted my direction.

  “You may come in, Emari,” he said, so quietly I wondered if I imagined it, though I knew I hadn’t. I pushed the door open a few more inches.

  “Sabre?” I closed my eyes and rummaged my memories, not really sure how I knew his name. Recognition and fear battled in my heart; each with a valid argument.

  Sabre smiled and leaned toward me. I couldn’t help feeling like Eddy when he heard a strange sound. My eyes stretched wide, seeing but not comprehending all I perceived.

  “Yes, Emari. You remember,” he said, as he held his hand out to me.

  My feet drifted forward a few steps of their own volition. “You’ve got some explaining to do, I think,” I told him.

  I eased closer and slid my hand into his, and with the warmth of his touch came a gentle trickle of memories. Sabre was—a friend? Of sorts. He wasn’t the fiend, the kidnapper I’d feared he was, but the abstracted memories were laced with uncertainty, some hidden dark truth plated through with sentimentality.

  “You’re safe here, Emari.”

  I tried to smile, my best fake smile, and Sabre chuckled. Turning from his condescending amusement, I noticed another man in the room as he rose from another chair across from the desk. I scanned his face from my place of presumed safety, cowered against Sabre’s side. Those eyes. My heart raced and I ducked behind Sabre, a shield between me and those eyes. They were the eyes that followed me in my dreams, stalked me through the streets of Seattle, hunted me from the cheering crowds. The glint on the irises was alluring, drawing in my heart; but my heart was still filled with hesitation. Who was this man with the magnetic pull on me that awakened a dormant terror? The battle of divided fronts raged in my head.

  Sabre’s arm snaked around my waist and he pulled me against his side. I clutched his shirt in my fist. His presence was my only anchor to the truth, and even that was tenuous. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a self-satisfied smirk creep across his lips as he watched the other man, who glared at him and sneered. “Sabre…” I cowered against my protector, not sure if he was any safer.

  Sabre’s chest rumbled with quiet laughter and he heaved a dramatic sigh. “All right, fine. You can have her back.”

  “What? No. I don’t know him. I don’t trust him,” I retorted. Sabre only chuckled. I narrowed my eyes and glanced between the two men.

  The man’s eyes softened and he reached a hand to me. “You did once,” he said, the glimmer of tears sparkled in his eyes. “Please
, Emari. Just let me help you remember.” He looked away. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I should never have…” His words choked off into silence and he looked imploringly at Sabre.

  Sabre snorted, but turned me to face him. “Emari,” he paused as he grazed his finger down my cheek. “I need you to trust me. I need you to trust Nick.” He nodded toward the other man. “He won’t hurt you, I promise. He has something very important and very special to give to you. Can you—will you trust me?”

  Trust you? The turmoil of opposing emotions tattered my heart, made me tired and yearn again for my home. I nodded and turned to face this other man, this Nick, that I didn’t know at all but somehow, I did know him. His hand extended toward me.

  “You were there.” I was having a Wizard of Oz moment. “You were the man at my shows.”

  “Yes,” he said and gave me an encouraging smile that sparked something warm and familiar in my chest. “Please?” His fingers twitched a come-hither motion. “What did you return to her?” he ask of Sabre, but his eyes were cemented to mine.

  “Very little,” Sabre rumbled. “She mostly drifted.” Drifted—that word was familiar too, in a foggy, distant sort of way.

  I shuffled forward, the bricks of uncertainty weighing down my feet. As I raised my hand to take the one presented to me, invisible sparks of electricity arced from his fingertips to mine. A surge of warmth shot up my arm; my nerves prickled like thawing flesh. Finally, the heat of skin to skin contact dulled the ache and immersed me in comfort. My fear evanesced, and memories of who I once was, who I truly was, coalesced in my mind. My life felt like a puzzle, mostly completed with pieces missing in a jumbled mess. Recollections I had forgotten—been made to forget—plunged into my mind. Their ferocity snowed me under like a January blizzard. This enigma that had caused me so much confusion and grief, fell together; the blank pieces developed into pictures and dropped into their places of their own accord.

  I gazed up into his eyes. “Nick?” His name, a strangled sound, quiet and desperate; as much breath as word.

  “Yes.”

  “I remember.”

  “Emi.”

  My throat suddenly slammed shut and every memory of him came raging back to me at once, as though a dam had breached; its waters spilling ravenously into the thirsty reservoir below. The flood of images overwhelmed me. Nick was my angel, my aegis, my protector. He chased away the nightmares after the crash that killed my parents. And again after the rape. He—and Sabre—were Caphar, Dream Weavers; an ancient race of immortals with the power to command memories and dreams.

  My heart clenched with emotion and squeezed tears to my eyes. Impulse, pure instinct tore at me to throw myself into his strong arms, let them enfold me. Anguish swirled and radiated from my chest, pulsing through my brain. You promised! I loved this man. Nick. My heart had entangled itself with his. He promised he would never leave me—my greatest fear since the death of parents, last year. You promised! But he did. He left me, all alone, with not even the memory of him to comfort me or break my heart. A savage heat pressed through me as memory built upon memory to reveal the truth.

  My Irish ancestry flared, red and hot like the spikes of my hair. I pulled away, cocked back my arm, balled my fist—and slammed it, with a satisfying crunch—right into Nick’s nose.

  “You sonofabitch!” I screamed. Electricity stormed around me, binding my arms to my sides. “Let me go!” I struggled against the vice of Sabre’s arms. I felt the rumble of his chest as he chuckled at me. “Let me go!” Sabre held firm. “Why?” I screeched at Nick. “What gave you the right? Who the hell do you think you are?”

  It was then I saw beyond the rage, the blood that gushed from Nick’s nose unstaunched, and gazed into those nebulous eyes as they clouded with grief. I stopped struggling against Sabre’s grip, and choked out a sob.

  “Get yourself cleaned up,” Sabre growled.

  Nick’s eyes found mine as he hesitantly stepped forward. “Em…”

  My muscles stiffened and I snarled at him, a wounded creature warning against approach. Sabre’s grip loosened on my arms, as though he hoped I’d cold-cock Nick one more time. Nick’s body drew back with a glimmer, like glitter swirling in water. And then, he was gone. Sabre’s arms fell away from me and he retreated to the desk, where he leaned on the edge and folded his arms across his chest.

  “And you!” I rounded on him. “How could you let him do that to me? How could you let him erase my memories like that?” My last memories of either of them were in the aftermath of devastation after the Wraith, Thomas, attacked me in my home.

  Sabre raised his hands in defense. “Whoa there, chica. I was the one who opposed it. But Nick figures you’re marked territory, that he gets to call the shots. I was just biding my time. I knew you’d drift eventually and come looking for us.”

  Yes, now I remembered that word. Drift. They guys used it when memories leaked. Which seemed to happen a lot around me. At the moment, my heat was rapidly subsiding and a chill shuddered through my body. I shivered and wobbled on my feet. Sabre swirled in beside me and held me up. “Here. Come sit down.” Sabre slid his arm around my waist and guided me to a chair, just as Nick shimmered back into the room. “Get a blanket,” Sabre ordered. He was good at that grouchy facade, and I had to admit, I found it a little centering.

  Nick faded out and returned to drape a fleecy blanket around my shoulders and back-pedal away. “It was too much,” I heard Nick mumble.

  “You can leave now,” I spat at him, not quite ready yet to forgive and forget.

  “Will she be okay?” His words were grievously quiet.

  “Probably.”

  “Probably?”

  Sabre turned on Nick. “Yeah. If she doesn’t get life in prison for killing you. OUT!”

  Nick cast a furtive look in my direction and once again, faded from the room.

  * * *

  “So, why the life of a rock star?” I questioned Sabre over the rim of a steaming cup of chamomile and catnip tea. I smiled inwardly. Meow.

  “Just worked out that way.” Sabre lounged nonchalant behind his desk. “You used to dream about being a singer, remember?” He didn’t wait for the nod of my head for confirmation. “And I just happened to have the memories of an old friend who was the singer in a band. It worked out nicely, if I say so myself.” Sabre might be a pompous prig, but at the moment, he felt like the anchor to my world. “I interwove some of your memories with hers to make it more personal. The spider motel.” Ghostly spider legs crawled up my spine. I shivered them away. “The 8150 in Vail no longer exists. Not long after that concert, the city council deemed it structurally unsound. It was torn down in 2007—bouncy stage and all.”

  “What about the band?” I didn’t recognize any of the other band members.

  Sabre chuckled. “‘Cuimhnigh’ is Irish for ‘remember’. A play on words and a nod to your heritage. Kylen is the son of one of the girls in The Belles. Jack was the drummer for the band Leonhardt. Drey and Yvy Iusi came from two different places: I found a tiny little memory in your head about a license plate you saw once. The first three letters were Y, V, Y and you thought it would make a unique name for a girl, like a twist on Ivy. And ‘Iusi’ is the name on a headstone down at your favorite cemetery.”

  I squeezed my head between my palms. “Why?”

  “You tell me. It’s your dark and twisted mind.”

  “No, Sabre. Why did you do the weave instead of just returning my memories to me?”

  Sabre hummed a note that almost sounded like regret. “Just another damned experiment, kid.”

  “And why Jesse?” Jesse was one of my best friends—or, he used to be—before his brother raped me. “Do you realize how bad you fucked up my head?” He shrugged and turned away. “Geez, you really are an ass!”

  A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest. “I’ll get Nick to take you home,” he said, ignoring my grumble of frustration.

  “Are you dismissing me?” I stood to face him
and only wobbled a little.

  He came to face me and ran his fingertips down my arms. “You’ll have to face him sometime, Emari.”

  I batted his hands away. “Face him? The son of a bitch wiped my brain.”

  “On the contrary, his mother was a very gentle woman.” I glared daggers at him. “I cannot speak for him. But, I’ve never known Nickolas to be a selfish man. A bit of a pain in my arse,” he chuckled. “But never a selfish man.”

  Sabre led me downstairs where Nick sat in silence in the sunken living room. He stood at the sound of us descending the stairs. “Take Emari home, please?” But it sounded more like a command than a question. Nick’s eyes darted to mine and swiftly away, but I was too absorbed in Sabre’s final words—never a selfish man.

  My emotions whirled in a tidal pool, some so painful I wished the waves would drag them out to sea. So many conflicting emotions. I remembered the warmth of affection that blossomed in my heart for Nick. But, I also remembered he’d broken into my home and manipulated my mind. I remembered the gentle touch of his hand, the strong, warm safety of his arms—but could I trust the one who loved and betrayed me in the same breath? The one who didn’t trust me enough to make my own choices? The choices he’d so adamantly pushed me to believe in.