In Your Dreams (13 page)

         
“What about parents? Do parents have these cells too?”

         
“I guess so. Yeah, probably. Why?” More important, why the hell was he
prattling on about the damn phone?

         
“How much leeway do you have with Nicole? Can you see her mother right now?”

         
“I could probably split the screen. But what’s the point? Her mother’s sound
asleep upstairs.”

         
“Do you think you could locate Mom’s phone? Get the number?”

         
She jerked her head up, ready to blast him for his distraction when she caught
the frantic light in his eyes. “I could probably pick it up off the circuitry
if I focused. Why? What are you going to do? You can’t call her if you’ve got
no link to her. And since her mother’s on the periphery...”

         
“I’ve got an idea.” He pointed to the screen again. “Get that number in the
meantime.” 

         
“But—” Xavia didn’t get to say more before he dashed out of the room. Great. On
a sigh, she channeled her energies on splitting the screen on her clipboard and
muttered, “Zoom out. House interior.”

         
Now, she had the ability to keep one eye on the teen, while simultaneously
scanning the master bedroom in the house to find another cell phone. In the
darkness, electronic gadgets emitted a red outline, limiting her search to less
than a dozen items. She found the phone on the nightstand and sent impulses
through the still air to illuminate the screen. As the phone turned on, a photo
glowed: Nicole and her mom cuddling in front of an autumn background in happier
days. Such a pretty teen. Such a contrast to the pale-faced child, currently
huddled in the back seat.

         
Xavia dared a glance up, but Sean hadn’t returned yet.

         
Hurry up, dammit, I’m gonna lose her…

         
Forcing her fears to the back of her throat, she honed in on the signal the
device emanated. Within two breaths, she had the number glowing in bright
white.

         
Come on, Sean. What the hell are you up to? I need you here.

         
At last, Sean returned and slapped his own clipboard on the desk beside hers.
“I’m going to contact Isabelle.”

         
She nearly flung his board to the floor in her rage. “Now? For Chrissakes,
Sean, I don’t have time for your inter-realm romance right now.”

         
He held up a hand. “Be patient. Watch.” His screen lit up with the scenery of a
candlelit bathroom and a tub filling with steamy water. Perched on the
porcelain edge, a blonde wrapped in a thick, terry robe poured scented oil
beneath the rushing liquid. “Belle?”

         
The woman paused in mid-pour and, looking up, clutched her collar tight against
her throat—as if Sean sat on her ceiling like some Afterlife voyeur. “Sean?
You’re done already, you hero-stud you?”

         
“No. I need your help.”

         
She grinned. “Ha. I told ya you might.”

         
“You can gloat later, if you like. We’re running out of time right now. Can you
make a phone call for me?”

         
Xavia sat back, jaw agape and mind stuttering. Damn, why hadn’t she thought of
that?

         
Meanwhile, Isabelle Fichetti still didn’t grasp the severity of the situation.
“You want me to order you a pizza? I doubt Domino’s delivers that far.”

         
“Call this number,” he replied. “Right now.” He gestured to Xavia to give him
the digits she’d pulled and enlarged.

         
“Wait,” Isabelle said. “Let me get a pen.” She disappeared from the screen.

         
Oh, for the love of…

         
While pushing the clipboard closer to Sean’s view, Xavia nearly shrieked her
frustration. On Earth, precious minutes were ticking away. Nicole’s eyes were
closed, her breathing shallow.

         
Isabelle returned, a black Sharpie marker in her hand, and turned off the
faucet. “Okay, shoot.” Sean read off the number, and she scrawled it on the
back of her hand. “Got it. What am I supposed to say? Who am I calling?”

         
“Nicole’s mom.” He gave her an abbreviated version of the teen’s story, summing
up with her current suicide attempt. “She’s already in the car, motor running,
so we don’t have much time. Do whatever you have to. Keep ringing that phone
until you get her mom down to the garage.”

         
“Okay.” While Xavia and Sean watched, helpless, from their realm, Isabelle
dialed the number and listened to the buzz as the phone rang on the other end.

         
Three rings in, the voicemail kicked on. Isabelle immediately disconnected and
hit redial. Again, the phone rang, and again, after three rings, the click
indicated the transfer to voicemail.

         
“This is ridiculous,” Xavia grumbled and grabbed her clipboard to try to
connect with the slumbering teen. “You work with Isabelle on Mom,” she told
Sean. “I’m going to try to connect with Nicole before it’s too late.”

         
If she wasn’t already too late. The problem was that, although the teen
lingered in a realm between awake and asleep, if she fell into too deep a
slumber, she’d never wake up again, no matter how many rainbows and unicorns
she showed the poor kid. Mired in her own misery, Nicole had lost sight of the
bigger picture. Not only of all she’d lose, but all her mother would lose, should
she succeed with this suicide attempt.

         
Time to pull out the big guns. Rather than a dream of hope like she’d used time
and time again, Xavia opted to plunge Nicole headlong into a nightmare. She
forced the teen to watch what would happen
after
her death: her
devastated mother finding her body, planning her funeral, choosing the dress
she’d be buried in, and all the inherent bitterness her loss would leave
behind. Calling on her own painful memories, Xavia showed Nicole a world devoid
of love, devoid of compassion, filled with an endless battle against personal
demons.

         
At last, she’d struck upon the perfect venue to reach the teen, who muttered,
“No” and thrashed her head from side to side. Xavia pumped the air with a fist.
Yes! She was still alive and semi-responsive.
We can work with that.

         
“Come on, Nicole. Come on,” she urged. “Fight back. You can do this.”

         
While Nicole struggled to come up out of the fog, for the coup de grace, Xavia
imitated Uriah’s dire pronouncement from her own sojourn to this private hell.
“By ending your own life, you have forfeited all rights to your family. It is
the sentence of this august board that you will never see your loved ones
again. Not in this lifetime or any lifetime in your eternity...”

         
Nicole moaned, and a solitary tear slipped from one eye to wet her cheek.

         
“Don’t let today’s pain condemn all your tomorrows, Nicole. Wake up. Don’t
sacrifice yourself and your mom because of a couple of louts who will mean nothing
to you a year or two from now. Fight back. They stole your dignity. Take it
back. Don’t let them steal your future, too...”

         
Meanwhile, on the other side of the desk, for Isabelle, the third time was the
charm. When her phone rang again, Pamela Zuniga grabbed her cell, punched the
button, and growled loud enough for Xavia to hear through the clipboard, “Who
the fuck is this?”

         
Isabelle got right to the point. “Call 911 and go into your garage. Now.
Nicole’s trying to kill herself in there.” She paused only long enough to make
sure Pamela was awake enough to understand the warning, then hung up.

         
Sure enough, within seconds, while Xavia kept coaxing Nicole back to life,
Pamela appeared in the garage. “Nicole!”

“You’re
a hero, Belle. Or I guess, in your case, a heroine.”

“I
prefer the term, ‘super goddess,’ if you don’t mind.” She snuggled against Sean
on the plush couch and watched firelight dance shadows over the hard lines of
his face, in such contrast with his starlit eyes. This time, he’d brought her
to a winter wonderland. She’d barely hung up the phone before he whisked her to
this quiet, rustic ski chalet. Outside, snow swirled while she and he stayed
warm and cozy together. The two of them. Together. Alone. Romantic—in a weird
kind of way.

“Super
goddess, huh? What does that require? A cape and a halo?”

“A
cape, a halo, and a super god by her side. You interested in becoming my
sidekick?”

“Maybe.”

“We
make a great team,” she said with an enticing lilt. “Don’t you think this is
kind of like...fate? Like, I don’t know…I’m the Pepper to your Iron
Man-slash-Tony Stark persona. Maybe I’m supposed to keep helping you with these
cases of yours. I could be your official liaison with the living.”

He
kissed the top of her head. “That’s a great idea, but I’m not so sure the
Elders will see it that way. In fact, I bet I’m going to be in a heap of
trouble after this interlude is over. Maybe even before. So if I leave here
suddenly, without warning, don’t be afraid, okay? It just means I’ve been
called up to face the penalty for my actions.”

“Why
should you be penalized?” Peeved on his behalf, she sat up straight and screwed
up her face. “We saved that poor girl’s life. Isn’t that what’s important?”

“Somehow,
I don’t think the Elders are going to be too thrilled that I involved you, an
attempted suicide offender, to save another attempted suicide offender.”

“You
know,” she retorted, narrowing her eyes at him, “under normal circumstances,
I’d kick your ass over that whole ‘attempted suicide offender’ moniker you’ve
tagged me with, but I’m more concerned that you think you’re going to get in
trouble for saving a teenaged girl’s life. Which, by the way, is ridiculous.
All you hafta do is tell them the truth. I was around, and I could do what you
couldn’t. It’s not like I was your first choice, right? I mean, you tried other
options before you contacted me. But it’s because of my phone call that Nicole
Zuniga is alive and will get the treatment she needs.” She thumped her chest.
“Because of
me
. For the first time in my life, I really feel like I made
a difference to somebody. And no invisible ‘Board’ is going to take that away
from me.”

The
wood popped, and a spark flew. Startled, she flinched.

“Easy,
tiger,” he crooned and, with a low laugh, gathered her closer against his
chest. “I got you.”

Yeah,
he did. More than he realized. She shook off the crazy thought that she might
be falling for her guardian angel.
Stick to the topic, babycakes. You’re
much safer there.

“One
thing bothers me,” she said. “How come your boss didn’t just call Nicole
herself? I mean, why’d she have to drag you in to help that poor girl—and then
you had to call me? Not that I’m angry about it or anything. I’m glad I could
help, but...why’d she need us?”

“Because
communication between her and any of her cases is much more limited than what I
have with you.”

“You
were telling me about that on Rodeo Drive. Remember? When I was trying on
shoes?”

His
forehead pleated. “Yeah, but there’s more to the story than what I told you
then. It’s strange. Everyone else in my department is limited to communicating
with their offenders through dreams—
only
dreams. Meaning, the offenders
have to be asleep. As far as I know, you’re the first person to ever sense one
of us is around when you’re awake—and to address that fact. And I’m the first
officer to physically leave my realm to come to yours. To be touched by someone
and feel that touch. Apparently, the bond you and I share is unique.”

Unique.
What exactly did that mean? What made them so special? Could it be love? Oh,
Jeez, she was seriously jumping the gun here. But then again, her experience
with true love was nil. Carlo had never really loved her—she saw that now. For
her part, she’d only been infatuated—and not even with him. With the
idea
of him. She’d been in love with
love
, not her husband. Big difference.

She
glanced upward at Sean. What kind of experience did he have with love? Probably
a helluva lot more than she did.

“Sean?
Have you ever been in love?”

He
didn’t answer at first, and Isabelle mentally prepared herself to hear he’d
left a wife and six kids behind on Earth, and he couldn’t wait until they were
all reunited.

“I
don’t think so,” he said at last, and she had to stifle her sigh of relief.
“Not in my last lifetime anyway. I was engaged in another life, but I don’t
remember any of the details.”

“I
don’t really understand love,” she admitted. “I thought I did. I mean, I look
at Justin and Tony, and the love between them is so obvious—so palpable—it
hurts. You know? I don’t think anyone’s ever loved me like that.”

“Like
what?”

“Like…I
don’t know. It’s not so much that Justin would lay down his life for Tony and
vice-versa. I mean, I know they each would. But the loss of one partner would
totally devastate the other. Me? I’ve always been…replaceable. God knows, no
one who proclaimed they loved me has ever held me in higher regard than
everyone else. When push came to shove, my mother chose my stepfather, Carlo
ran off with a younger version, all my so-called ‘devoted’ fans have long
forgotten me.” He started to say something, but she put her fingers to his lips
to halt the argument. “I’m not feeling sorry for myself; I’m just stating fact.
It would be nice to know someone loved me unconditionally, no matter what dumb
thing I did, what careless remark I made, whether or not I had money or clout.
Not like the way Justin and Tony love me—in a friendship way. But how they love
each other—in a
romantic
way. I want someone who values me for who I am,
not what I can give him. Someone who guards my heart and places his in my hands
for safekeeping.”

The
wood popped again, as if even the fire scoffed at her childish dreams. “Forget
it.” She shook her head. “I’m not making sense. Forget I said anything.”

He
didn’t reply right away, but his fingers twirled in her hair. Funny. He seemed
to know exactly what to do to make her comfortable, to make her feel
loved
.

“First
of all,” he said while his fingers tunneled through her hair to massage her
scalp, “there is nothing about you that’s replaceable. Would I be working so
hard to convince you to stay alive if you weren’t special? Trust me when I say,
you have a lot to offer the world and the right man who’s lucky enough to
discover you. Just because no one—including you—has figured that out yet
doesn’t make you unworthy of love. If I were alive, I’d haunt you more than I
do now. I’d spend every second of my life marveling at your courage, your wit,
your enormous heart. Stay alive, sweetheart, and find the love that was meant
to be yours.” He kissed the place where his fingers had traveled. “And
secondly, for the record, I l—”

Poof
! Isabelle woke in her room. The chalet,
the fire, and the man of her dreams were all gone.

Alone
in the dark, she rolled over and stared at the silken swaths overhead. What had
he been about to say? And why had he disappeared at that precise moment? Was he
going to tell her he loved her? And had the powers-that-be stopped him for some
reason? Or had they dragged him back to face punishment for interfering with
Nicole Zuniga? If so, what kind of punishment would he be forced to endure?

Her
mind pictured his beautiful face surrounded by burning flames, and she
shivered.

No,
she told herself. Sean had insisted there was no hell.

She
glared at the canopy as if she could see through the fabric, past the roof,
beyond the sky, to the invisible beings who held his fate in their hands. “He’s
mine, you know,” she said with fervor. “And if you hurt him, I will never
forgive you.”

~~~~

Sean
landed back with Xavia in her office in time to hear their clipboards buzzing
in unison. He looked up into her triumphant eyes and grinned. “Well, that
didn’t take long, did it? Ready to face the firing squad?”

         
She clutched his wrist within her cranberry-painted talons. “If they threaten
you, Sean, I want you to blame me. You hear? Don’t play good guy cop, okay?
This was
my
case,
my
idea. You were following my lead. You
assumed this kind of ‘consultation’ between me and my staff happened all the
time. You get me?”

         
Prying her grasp from his arm, he clucked his tongue. “Forget it, Xavia. I told
you before. We’re in this together.”

         
“And
I
told
you
, I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

         
He folded his arms over his chest and shot his weight to one hip. “Too late.”

         
Her exasperation exploded in a heavy exhale. “Stubborn ass.”
          “Back atcha, babe.”

         
The clipboards buzzed again, angrier than a swarm of hornets, and with enough
energy to shoot across the desktop.

         
After tucking the two obnoxious devices under one arm, Sean held out his hand
to Xavia. “You ready?”

         
Grim determination hardened the sparkle in her eyes to a harsh glint. “Let’s
go.”

         
They transformed into twin lightning forks and landed side by side in the
Welcome Center, outside the closed doors of the auditorium. Sherman, spirit
guide to the lost of the Afterlife, stood there, a glorified theater usher
garbed in his traditional white and gold braid uniform.

         
“I don’t know what you did,” he greeted them in a harsh whisper, “but the Board
is livid. The Elders are in there, shouting at each other. Shouting! In all my
time here, I’ve never seen them so worked up.”

         
“Yeah, well, Xavia and I have never worked together before,” Sean replied,
kicking an imaginary pebble with a booted toe. “What can I say? When we put our
heads to it, we can create magic.”

         
“Uh-huh.” Sherman opened the door and waved an arm in a flourish. “Go on in,
magical ones. They’re waiting for you.”

         
Sean crossed the threshold at Xavia’s side and stifled a flinch when the doors
snicked closed behind them. The empty seats poked the usual annoyance in him,
and the long walk up the carpeted aisle—meant, he was certain, to
intimidate—only gave him time to form cohesive arguments for the battle to
come.

         
For her part, Xavia maintained a Queen of the Amazons posture: head high, eyes
staring straight ahead. Each step she took forward was a graceful glide. Only
the tremors bouncing off her aura belied her composed exterior. “You okay?”

         
“Yup,” she murmured in a voice laced with iron. “Just another day in paradise.
Let’s do this.”

         
Up ahead, ten of the council members sat at a long glossy table. On each side
of the aisle stood the other two, Verity on Sean’s side, and he assumed the
bulk of Egyptian on Xavia’s side was her Elder Counselor. What was his name
again? Something with a U. Ukiah? Eureka? Something like that.

         
“Sean.” Verity’s disapproving tone brought his attention to her lovely face
lined in worry. “Come with me, please.”

         
“Xavia.” The Egyptian’s voice thundered with the force of a sonic boom. “You
chose your own ending. Again.”

         
Oh, the hell with this. “Why?” Sean whirled on the glowering tower of outrage.
“She saved a girl’s life. Why would that kind of success be a disappointment to
anyone? Isn’t that what she’s supposed to do? Prevent another person from
winding up here, serving you and the auspicious Board?”

         
While Mr. Big glared through obsidian eyes, Verity placed a hand on his sleeve.
“Sean. Don’t. Allow Uriah to handle Xavia while you and I talk.”

         
“You and Uriah can go to hell,” he replied then looked up at the panel of
timeless bastards on the platform. “You can
all
go to hell.”

         
“Sean, that will do.”

         
He turned to Verity, all respect gone. “You’re not my mother, Verity. No matter
how you try to emulate her, you’ll never be her.”

         
“Enough.” She barely finished the word before the auditorium disappeared,
replaced with the Bensonhurst kitchen setting of his childhood. This time in an
act of pure insolence, he sat in his father’s chair. And plopped his booted
feet, crossed, on top of the table. He only wished mud existed in the Afterlife
to drop onto the scrubbed Formica. His mother wouldn’t approve, but since she
wasn’t here…

         
“You disappoint me, Sean,” Verity said with a frown.

         
“The feeling’s mutual.”

         
She sighed and took the seat beside him, staring openly at his feet, but saying
nothing.