my dream ended.”
William flew to her in a blink, his emerald greens drilling into her tear filled gems of blue. “We will not allow this tragedy to happen.” He spoke with confident determination, but her voice wouldn’t work right, so she sniffled her reply, hoping desperately he was right.
He reached up to touch her shoulder but his hand fell short and he stepped at human pace, back to his desk. “From what you dreamt, I suspect that our dear Emily was not alone, and since the attacker was out of your view, I’ll assume for the moment it is supernatural in nature.” He retreated into his thoughts, his face statuesque as he sat behind his desk in deep contemplation.
Melinda stepped closer to the fireplace, leaning on the arm of a sofa, her gaze getting lost in the flames. William rarely ever let it die out, even on hot summer nights. It did not warm his permanently cooled skin, but he often spoke of it like an old friend that kept him company during lonely hours, while his human friends slept. Melinda had never understood his desire for it as fire could also kill him.
As the flames flickered, she relived the dream again, searching for any little detail she might have overlooked. Normally, when it came to her dreams, she tried to keep herself unattached to the problem, preferring to act as though she were simply an outsider with a glimpse of something no one else could see.
Just a thing. No big deal. Attachment meant frayed nerves and constant sorrow.
This dream, however, was not the first time she had dreamt about someone close to her dying. Unfortunately, when it had occurred the first time, Melinda had not understood that her dream was really a vision of something to come. Something preventable had she been aware. She had thought it just a nightmare, as it was not yet known that prophetic dreams were her magical inheritance.
Tears escaped down her cheeks. She couldn’t stop them.
William’s head flitted upward, and fearing she was slipping into despair, dashed to her at once. He knelt on one knee in front of her. “Melinda, this will not be like last time. I promise.”
She could not respond. The lump in her throat was too constricting to allow her to speak.
He had to order his hands to stay by his sides, rather than reach up and swipe away the tears, or offer comfort. He’d started to enjoy when she needed his comfort, much more than he should, he realized now. Something he would not allow to develop any deeper. Especially after his reaction to her just minutes before.
“I wish to order you once and for all, not to carry this guilt over something you had no control over,” William told her. He may not have had a beating heart, or blood pumping through his veins, but love and compassion emanated from him.
It was apparent to him now, that any true progress he believed Melinda had made was a lie. She had not forgiven herself at all.
“How can I?” she squeaked. “How can I ever forgive myself? Mom and Dad are dead because I didn’t stop it. And now Emily…”
He toyed with waking Charlie and Michael, sensing that Melinda would take too many steps backwards if she continued with this line of thinking.
His uncertainty apparent, she stood up, wiped her eyes and shook off her apprehensions.
“William, please don’t look at me like that. I can see you’re disappointed with me.”
“Melinda, I am never disappointed in you. Only concerned. I only want the best for you. I want you to live your life. I want you to stop feeling guilty, but I cannot force it upon you.”
She wanted to shout, please, force it. Reach in and just rip it out of me because I can’t take it anymore.
“I’m fine,” she insisted weakly. “Really.”
He searched her face, looking for his answer. “No, you are not fine , Melinda. But I will let it slide, for now, as we have urgent matters to attend to.”
“Just help me save Emily,” she begged softly.
“I will always be here to help you, Melinda.” This
William flew to her in a blink, his emerald greens drilling into her tear filled gems of blue. “We will not allow this tragedy to happen.” He spoke with confident determination, but her voice wouldn’t work right, so she sniffled her reply, hoping desperately he was right.
He reached up to touch her shoulder but his hand fell short and he stepped at human pace, back to his desk. “From what you dreamt, I suspect that our dear Emily was not alone, and since the attacker was out of your view, I’ll assume for the moment it is supernatural in nature.” He retreated into his thoughts, his face statuesque as he sat behind his desk in deep contemplation.
Melinda stepped closer to the fireplace, leaning on the arm of a sofa, her gaze getting lost in the flames. William rarely ever let it die out, even on hot summer nights. It did not warm his permanently cooled skin, but he often spoke of it like an old friend that kept him company during lonely hours, while his human friends slept. Melinda had never understood his desire for it as fire could also kill him.
As the flames flickered, she relived the dream again, searching for any little detail she might have overlooked. Normally, when it came to her dreams, she tried to keep herself unattached to the problem, preferring to act as though she were simply an outsider with a glimpse of something no one else could see.
Just a thing. No big deal. Attachment meant frayed nerves and constant sorrow.
This dream, however, was not the first time she had dreamt about someone close to her dying. Unfortunately, when it had occurred the first time, Melinda had not understood that her dream was really a vision of something to come. Something preventable had she been aware. She had thought it just a nightmare, as it was not yet known that prophetic dreams were her magical inheritance.
Tears escaped down her cheeks. She couldn’t stop them.
William’s head flitted upward, and fearing she was slipping into despair, dashed to her at once. He knelt on one knee in front of her. “Melinda, this will not be like last time. I promise.”
She could not respond. The lump in her throat was too constricting to allow her to speak.
He had to order his hands to stay by his sides, rather than reach up and swipe away the tears, or offer comfort. He’d started to enjoy when she needed his comfort, much more than he should, he realized now. Something he would not allow to develop any deeper. Especially after his reaction to her just minutes before.
“I wish to order you once and for all, not to carry this guilt over something you had no control over,” William told her. He may not have had a beating heart, or blood pumping through his veins, but love and compassion emanated from him.
It was apparent to him now, that any true progress he believed Melinda had made was a lie. She had not forgiven herself at all.
“How can I?” she squeaked. “How can I ever forgive myself? Mom and Dad are dead because I didn’t stop it. And now Emily…”
He toyed with waking Charlie and Michael, sensing that Melinda would take too many steps backwards if she continued with this line of thinking.
His uncertainty apparent, she stood up, wiped her eyes and shook off her apprehensions.
“William, please don’t look at me like that. I can see you’re disappointed with me.”
“Melinda, I am never disappointed in you. Only concerned. I only want the best for you. I want you to live your life. I want you to stop feeling guilty, but I cannot force it upon you.”
She wanted to shout, please, force it. Reach in and just rip it out of me because I can’t take it anymore.
“I’m fine,” she insisted weakly. “Really.”
He searched her face, looking for his answer. “No, you are not fine , Melinda. But I will let it slide, for now, as we have urgent matters to attend to.”
“Just help me save Emily,” she begged softly.
“I will always be here to help you, Melinda.” This
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