FALL (The Senses) (6 page)

Xamien
felt the same thing. Max was fearless, yet submissive in every way. She did
anything he asked and never spoke unless spoken to. “Found her as a slave to a
horde of vamps. She refused to talk for months. Don’t even know her real name,
but I had to call her something.”

“What is
she?”

Xamien
shrugged. “Can’t figure it out. Unable to read her thoughts either. I suspect
in time I will or she’ll tell me.”

“Frig.
Poor kid.”

Xamien
tilted his head with agreement then opened the bedroom door. He was immediately
overwhelmed with the scent of stale, morbid air. Xamien strode over to the bed
and glanced down at the woman he would be spending the next several hours with.
The moment he saw her angelic face with the cute nose he felt a connection.
That was good; he’d need that to enter her mind.

He
leaned forward and swept a finger across her temple, pushing aside a few
strands of hair. There was something about this woman that triggered a
familiarity with him. Maybe it was because he had lost someone important to him
like she had. Although, the person he lost was still alive.

Xamien
walked to the window, pulled a wooden chair away from the wall and moved it
beside the bed. Without glancing at the huddled figure, he sat and closed his
eyes, immediately searching for the lock that would allow him to enter Delara’s
mind.

As a strong
Reflection, he had the ability to read emotions and manipulate them. The trick
was that Senses had strong shields around their minds; a Reflection had to find
the lock and the key in order to open the door. Humans were much easier as they
had no shields, however, every mind had a protective barrier. As far as he
knew, only he had the ability to manipulate a Senses mind.  

The ice
block he slammed into upon trying to enter Delara’s mind was an indication that
he’d be sitting here a while. Delara’s mind was a cold, dark fortress and
empty. Most minds had something on the other side of the wall, but not this
one. He searched around it, every nook, every cranny and found not a single
ounce of memory, feeling, or emotion. Her mind was dead.

That
meant one thing. She was so far hidden within herself that it was as if she’d
flicked a switch to Off. He had to find the switch in order to get her back.

The only
chance he had of helping her was to use the memory that had taken her
away—Waleron. If he could lower her shield for one second, he could enter her
mind and try to influence it from there.

He and
Waleron had been mere acquaintances, but he knew enough about him, and sat on
council a couple times with him, to know his scent. Xamien was able to
manipulate the air around him and it wasn’t a gift from the Goddess. Instead,
it was his mother who had the special gift of magic in her veins. Something
he’d never been great at, but, at times, Xamien was able to use what she’d
tried to teach him over the years.

He
reached into his jean pocket, pulled out a black marble and rubbed it between
his palms. Chanting in his head the words his mother so eloquently spoke on
occasion, he let the particles of air grip his skin, feeling the coldness of
the marble between his hands. Chanting Waleron’s name, he employed the air
towards him. He felt the heaviness cling to him, the scent of Waleron shifting
through the air.

The
magic suddenly hit Xamien in the chest and his breath left his lungs. Waleron’s
scent emanated from the marble with full force then shot into the air before
settling on Xamien’s skin like a blanket.

He
slipped the marble into his pocket and moved to sit on the bed. He waited;
watching the still form lying like a corpse, her breath barely moving in and
out. Patience was the key to her mind. When her senses smelled Waleron near,
she’d let the lock on her mind go in order to take the scent in. He had one
second before the gate closed again and after that, he suspected they would
never get her back.

Xamien
watched for any signal. Waited for any signs, but Delara remained passive. Her
eyes were still beneath her lids, her body quiet, mouth parted ever so
slightly. He pulled the sheet up over her shoulders when he noticed a few goosebumps
on her neck.

“Waleron?”

The soft
voice was a haggard whisper, barely audible. Xamien moved closer, his palms
resting on either side of her head, hoping, praying his moment to enter her
mind was here.

Her nose
twitched and her eyes moved back and forth beneath her lids. Xamien closed his
eyes and began searching for the break in her mind, a place to enter the
blackness.

A
sniffle. A sob. Then a cry so horrific it almost broke his concentration. He
pushed into her mind in that moment and fell into the pit of despair.

Xamien
felt as if he was free falling, further and further into a cold place filled
with webs of confusion. He let his mind go, knowing he needed to reach the end
in order to knit a path for Delara back to the living.

He’d
have to start from the beginning. That is why she didn’t come back to them,
because the world had nothing left to offer, here deep in her mind there were
memories of love. Of Waleron.

Hours
went by while Xamien made new paths out of the darkness. Each time he made it
further upward, he waited while she climbed up after him, following Waleron’s
scent as if he were the one calling to her. Xamien tried to stay out of the
memories as much as possible, but on occasion, to make a new path, he needed
something to get her to follow. A memory of when Waleron had taught her how to
grapple. A moment when she fell out of a tree. The memory of Waleron racing her
across a meadow on horseback. Xamien never intruded on their intimacy, knowing
that he could make a path without interfering on something so personal.

He had
no awareness of time as he made a trail to where Delara could hear his voice.
He was her only hope to pull her from the drudges of her mind.

One more
path. Xamien could see the light, but he could also feel her hesitation. She
was pulling back, ready to free fall down to where she thought she was safe
from the hurt.

“No
Delara. You will come with me,”
Xamien ordered. His fingers trailed a path down her cheek, hoping she
felt his touch, would know that he was real and he wasn’t letting her go.

“Waleron
wants you to live.”

She took
a step back and he swore beneath his breath. If he didn’t take control, he’d
lose her.

“Do
as I say Delara. I will not leave you here.”
He cupped her cheek. “
This place is no longer
safe. The memories of him will die and you will be left in darkness. The light
is already fading. Do you feel it? Do you feel your body getting cold? That is
the darkness.”

The
uncertainty in her mind fought against him, yet wanted to trust. God, he wished
he could make her follow him, but she was frozen. Refusing to go any further.

If only
he’d known her before, he’d be able to talk her through it, but he was a
stranger and she felt that.

“It’s
safe here. Warm. In time, you’ll heal.”
He unconsciously stroked her hair with the back of
his hand.
“You love him. He knew that, Delara. He’d want you to love him in
life, not in death.”

She
remained impassive to his words. She wasn’t going to come with him. A stranger.
He’d done as much as he could. Now it was Jedrik’s turn.

The
moment he pulled from her mind, he felt as if a part of him had dissolved.
There was an emptiness. God, it was as if he’d lost a part of himself within
her mind. That had never happened to him before. He guessed it was the extended
period of time he’d been immersed inside her thoughts and memories. He looked
down at her, the strange craving he felt still lingering. He shook his head,
disturbed by it, and yet his instinct said to let the feeling go—for now.

Xamien
walked to the door and opened it.

Jedrik
hurried to his feet. “Damn, you look like shit.”

“Five
hours of mindweaving can do that to a guy.” He shook Jedrik’s hand. “Be with
her, she is near the surface. I cannot convince her to waken. I suspect you can
draw her back to the living. ” He glanced back inside the room. “Her love for
him—it is a remarkable love story. And a devastating tragedy.” Xamien turned
and walked down the hall.

“Delara?”

That
voice. She knew that voice.
Jedrik.
She took a step towards him.

“Delara,
it’s time honey. I need you to take my hand. Come on, sweetie.”

The bed
sagged beneath his weight. She felt the heat from his skin as he curled his
fingers around her own. “I need you to squeeze my hand, so I know you can hear
me.”

She
walked closer to where the man she trusted, knew as her best friend, told her
to go. She felt the coldness seeping into her bones, the dryness in her throat,
and the weakness in her limbs. She didn’t want to go. It wasn’t safe. It was
too real. She was too afraid. Too alone.

“You
will only be alone if you stay.”
She recognized his voice. It was the man who’d found her in the depths
of her mind and brought her close to the surface.
“No matter where you are,
I will always bring you back safely. Go to Jedrik.”

“I’m
scared.”

“Me
too, Kitten. Do it for the love of the man you’ve lost. Make him proud,
Kitten.”

As she
moved further forward, the emotions bombarded her and her body started to
shake. She was about to turn and run when the physical touch of Jedrik’s arms
came around her trembling waist, dragging her into the warmth of his skin.

“Shhh,
Sass.” Jedrik held her close to him, whispering words she blocked from her mind
as she thought of another man’s arms. Another scent and voice. “I’m not letting
you go this time.” He lowered his tone, his words strong and fierce. “He’s
gone, Delara. But you’re not. Find the strength to live with his memory.”

A scream
wrenched from her parched throat. She didn’t recognize the horrific voice and
it no longer mattered. The jerking sobs came uncontrollably as she pulled from
her abyss. Jedrik rocked her in his arms, his hand caressing her hair like a
mother would do for her child. She fought his comfort, the heat of his body.
She fought until her arms failed to rise and finally she lay limp in his
unrelenting embrace.

“I’m
staying here until you can face the world again. It’s been long enough, Sass.
Waleron would not be happy if he knew you suffered like this. He loved you
lass, but I love you too and I’m not letting you go.”

She
tensed at the sound of Waleron’s name, the tears falling faster, her heart
shredding a little bit more. “I can’t. I can’t let him go. It’s like a knife is
stabbing my insides and I can’t stop it.” She hiccupped on her tears. “It’s
like he...he’s still with me. I feel like he is alive inside me and... Jedrik,
I don’t know how to live without him.”

Jedrik
kissed her cheek. “And I can’t live without my best friend.” Stroking her hair
with his palm, he said, “I love you too lass. Frig Delara, you’re my family, my
kin.”

Those
words awakened something, a jolt. Maybe not that strong. A fizzle of stirring
in her blood. Jedrik was her kin, if not by blood by friendship, the only kin
she had now. And she wanted to feel needed, too, because the pain was so deep
that the only person alive to make her want to open her eyes was Jedrik.

“I miss
him. I miss him so much.”

Jedrik
lay spooned behind her. “I know, lass,” he murmured. “And I would do anything
to bring him back for you, but I can’t, so we do what he wanted us to do—live
and protect.”

The sobs
choked her.

“You
have to cease believing he’s alive. You have to let him go.” He lowered his
voice to a warm, soothing purr. “Cry, Sass. Cry until you let him go. If it
takes a day, two days, another friggin’ month so be it. We will stay here until
you’re finished crying.” He found her hand under the blanket and gave it a
squeeze. “I’m not leaving you this time. You can rant and rave and hit me all
you want, I will stay until we leave this room—”

“Jedrik?”

“Ay,
lass?”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t
say thanks yet. I haven’t started complaining about your smell.”

She
choked on a half laugh and tightened her grip on him. She felt someone else
inside her, a man, a voice, but she couldn’t distinguish who he was. What she
did know was that he was a reassurance. A comfort to her despair.

****

Five
showers, four meals, and three days later Delara released Jedrik, and herself,
from prison. She loathed facing life, but it helped that Jedrik was by her side
and he’d already said if she went into hiding again, he’d go with her. And she
suspected Xamien, the man who she now knew had so intimately helped her crawl
back from despair, would come to.

Before Xamien
Traced to Spain, he’d contacted her.
“You ever need me, I’ll be there.
You’re always welcome in Spain, Delara.”
She never responded, but she felt
his sincerity. They’d shared a link through mindweaving, and his connection to
her would last a lifetime.