of the day.
“Only about twenty four hours,” Nick explained. “And I came over a couple of times to let him out and feed him. But what about you? You must be starving. Can I make you something?” Nick put Eddy down and came to stand in front of me. My jaw clamped shut to detain the angry words that raged inside me. His warm fingers traced down my cheek and melted some of the frost. “Emi…” The sound of his voice swirled images of my rock star life through my mind; the handsome man, the stranger in the crowd, in the alley on the way to the hotel, before my header into the audience in Phoenix, the amber drop sparkling on his lips. It had all been Nick trying to get to me and Sabre had shut him out.
“Why didn’t I know it was you?”
“Because…I…you didn’t have any memories of me. And Sabre didn’t want you to. He was having too much fun playing God.” His eyelid twitched with restrained fury.
“Okay. Wait a minute. Have I been gone for weeks? I remember at least fourteen shows.”
“Reality and memory download are not on the same time frame. Memories that actually took weeks in reality can be transferred in a matter of moments. Hours if you’re doing manipulations like Sabre was doing.”
“So it’s not sometime in March?”
“No, Sweets. It’s still the beginning of February.”
“Ugh! My head is so fucked up. No wonder I’m exhausted.” Nick rubbed my arms in comfort and I pressed my hand to his chest. I choked out the words I couldn’t contain any longer. “Nick? Why did you do it? Why did you leave me like…” The words jammed in my throat.
“‘Like everyone else’,” he finished for me, and his gaze dropped to the floor.
‘Everyone else’ consisted of Mom and Dad, and now, it seemed, Jesse. But three was enough. I was still hopeful at redeeming my friendship with Jesse—if he could ever stop being humiliated over his brother’s abuse. I nodded, unable to speak, still choked with the raw emotions. Nick fidgeted and a struggle warred in his eyes. Then, he led me to the couch and pulled me down next to him. He was quiet so long I wondered if he was going to answer me at all.
“Fear,” he finally said. “Mostly. I was afraid the reason the Rephaim found you in the first place was my fault. Because I couldn’t—I didn’t leave you alone. Even after Thomas rejuvenated, I thought…”
“What?! After Thomas what?” I interrupted. Thomas was the Rephaim, or Nightmare Wraith, a dark and twisted version of Dream Weaver, that nearly killed all of us before Christmas.
Nick’s shoulders slumped and he lowered his head and raked his fingers through his hair with a dispirited groan. His face screwed up with reluctance. “He got away.”
“What? No. I remember. You guys killed Thomas. He’s dead…right? They can’t come back from a decapitation, right?”
Nick’s reluctant moan was leaden. “Someone released him. He’s gone.”
“Okay. Whoa. Back up the Dream Weaver train. You guys beheaded him. That makes him dead…for good…right?”
“Not exactly. Caphar, including Wraith, are able to regenerate for about forty-eight hours after physical death. The spark of the ‘spiritual’ side of us lingers that long after death. Sabre put the body in a metal drum and sealed it. He put the head in another sealed drum. After forty-eight hours the parts should have disintegrated because the energy of the spirit is no longer there to bind the body together, and time catches up all at once.” He huffed a rueful laugh.
“Only about twenty four hours,” Nick explained. “And I came over a couple of times to let him out and feed him. But what about you? You must be starving. Can I make you something?” Nick put Eddy down and came to stand in front of me. My jaw clamped shut to detain the angry words that raged inside me. His warm fingers traced down my cheek and melted some of the frost. “Emi…” The sound of his voice swirled images of my rock star life through my mind; the handsome man, the stranger in the crowd, in the alley on the way to the hotel, before my header into the audience in Phoenix, the amber drop sparkling on his lips. It had all been Nick trying to get to me and Sabre had shut him out.
“Why didn’t I know it was you?”
“Because…I…you didn’t have any memories of me. And Sabre didn’t want you to. He was having too much fun playing God.” His eyelid twitched with restrained fury.
“Okay. Wait a minute. Have I been gone for weeks? I remember at least fourteen shows.”
“Reality and memory download are not on the same time frame. Memories that actually took weeks in reality can be transferred in a matter of moments. Hours if you’re doing manipulations like Sabre was doing.”
“So it’s not sometime in March?”
“No, Sweets. It’s still the beginning of February.”
“Ugh! My head is so fucked up. No wonder I’m exhausted.” Nick rubbed my arms in comfort and I pressed my hand to his chest. I choked out the words I couldn’t contain any longer. “Nick? Why did you do it? Why did you leave me like…” The words jammed in my throat.
“‘Like everyone else’,” he finished for me, and his gaze dropped to the floor.
‘Everyone else’ consisted of Mom and Dad, and now, it seemed, Jesse. But three was enough. I was still hopeful at redeeming my friendship with Jesse—if he could ever stop being humiliated over his brother’s abuse. I nodded, unable to speak, still choked with the raw emotions. Nick fidgeted and a struggle warred in his eyes. Then, he led me to the couch and pulled me down next to him. He was quiet so long I wondered if he was going to answer me at all.
“Fear,” he finally said. “Mostly. I was afraid the reason the Rephaim found you in the first place was my fault. Because I couldn’t—I didn’t leave you alone. Even after Thomas rejuvenated, I thought…”
“What?! After Thomas what?” I interrupted. Thomas was the Rephaim, or Nightmare Wraith, a dark and twisted version of Dream Weaver, that nearly killed all of us before Christmas.
Nick’s shoulders slumped and he lowered his head and raked his fingers through his hair with a dispirited groan. His face screwed up with reluctance. “He got away.”
“What? No. I remember. You guys killed Thomas. He’s dead…right? They can’t come back from a decapitation, right?”
Nick’s reluctant moan was leaden. “Someone released him. He’s gone.”
“Okay. Whoa. Back up the Dream Weaver train. You guys beheaded him. That makes him dead…for good…right?”
“Not exactly. Caphar, including Wraith, are able to regenerate for about forty-eight hours after physical death. The spark of the ‘spiritual’ side of us lingers that long after death. Sabre put the body in a metal drum and sealed it. He put the head in another sealed drum. After forty-eight hours the parts should have disintegrated because the energy of the spirit is no longer there to bind the body together, and time catches up all at once.” He huffed a rueful laugh.
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