In Your Dreams (21 page)

He
continued through the rest of his new cases, noting which of the offenders would
require closer attention than the others. All touched him in some way—how could
they not? But none grabbed his heart the way Isabelle had.

Sure,
she’d been his first, which would explain some of his sentimentality toward
her. But Isabelle represented so much more. She was bright, clever,
courageous—all the qualities he’d sadly lacked in life. In all his lives.

If
he hadn’t put that gun in his mouth, would he have ever met someone like
Isabelle? He considered the past lives Verity had shown him when he first
arrived here eons ago.

In
Life One, he’d been Lieutenant Jeremiah DeGraw, of the 16
^th 
Regiment
New York Volunteer Cavalry during the War Between the States. And now that he
thought about that incarnation, he remembered a woman very much like Isabelle:
Jeremiah’s sister, Adelia. And Xavia could easily pass as Mabel, the freed
slave who hid him in a Virginia farmhouse when he was shot during one
particularly ugly skirmish. Mabel had a son, Ezra. It was Ezra who’d found him
on the outskirts of the battlefield. Ezra who discovered Jeremiah was still
alive when he tried to pick the fallen soldier’s pockets, and a pistol was
pointed at his head. Ezra who fetched water when Mabel cleaned the bullet out
of Jeremiah’s thigh. Jeremiah was eventually reunited with his unit and was at
Garrett’s Farm for the capture of John Wilkes Booth and Daniel Harold. After
the war, he returned to his home near Plattsburg to learn Adelia had died in
childbirth. Jeremiah never recovered from the loss of his beloved sister. He mourned
her until his own death a few years later from consumption.

Life
Two. Ferryboat captain, Adam Moran, died when his ship ran aground and caught
fire near Staten Island. He and his ship met their fates in the Arthur Kill
Boat Graveyard—along with two passengers. A young black woman named Charlotte
and her ten-year-old son, Judah, who may or may not have started the fire
onboard, also perished. Captain Moran, at the age of thirty-two, left behind a
devastated fiancée, Marie.

Like
snapshots, images flashed in his mind. Isabelle, Xavia, Noah. Adelia, Mabel,
Ezra. Marie, Charlotte, Judah. There were others, as well. All part of the same
circle. A trinity of souls, intertwined with his, lifetime after lifetime,
always intersecting, never fully connecting. Until now.

A
nudge at his shoulder made him flinch, jerking him out of his thoughts. He
snapped his head up. Xavia stood above him. A galaxy of stars lit her aura to
near-blinding luminescence.

“Thank
you.” Two simple words that held the power of the universe behind them.

He
shrugged. “No big thing.”

“Yes,
it was,” she replied, her voice a low whisper. “Do you have any idea how much
trouble you’ll be in when the Elders discover you reunited me with my son?”

With
a sharp gasp, he feigned outrage, one hand slapped against the center of his
chest. “I did no such thing! I introduced you to a young man named Contel. How
many times do I have to tell you? He is
not
Noah, has no memory of ever
being Noah.”

She
folded her arms over her chest and quirked a brow at him. “You think the Board
will buy that argument?”

“I
think they already did,” he replied and gestured to his clipboard. “If they
wanted to haul me in for bringing you two together, they would have done so by
now.”

“You
think they know?”

“I’m
guessing they not only know, but approve. Maybe I’m wrong, but I’ve been
reviewing a few things while you were occupied with Contel.” He craned his neck
around her slim physique. “By the way, where
is
the kid?”

“He
got a call for a hunt and had to fly.” She hugged herself like a child. “He
said he’ll come back to visit whenever he can.”

“Good.
Keep in mind, I taught him orb ball, too, so when you two run out of things to
talk about, you can challenge each other on the court.”

Her
smile reappeared, dazzling and brilliant. “You amaze me.”

“No.”
The last thing he wanted from his boss was hero worship. “I owed you. I can’t
take back what happened that night in Bed-Stuy—”

“Don’t.”
She held up a hand. “Don’t go there.”

“I
have to. Like I said, I’ve been doing some thinking and I’ve come to some
pretty weird conclusions.”

“What
kind of conclusions?”

“Think
we can talk in your office?”

“
Mi
casa, su casa
.” She turned, looking at him over one shoulder. “Come on.”

He
grabbed his clipboard, miniaturized it, and shoved it in his pocket before
following her.

“By
the way,” she tossed back, “Contel says you promised to show him how to do
that.”

“You
know how,” he retorted. “You could’ve shown him.”

“I
could have. But
I
didn’t promise.”

Her
buoyant laughter confirmed he’d made the right decision in connecting her with
Contel. Let the Board come after him. He patted his silent clipboard inside his
pocket. Somehow, he didn’t think they would.

Once
inside with the door closed, he asked her, “Have you ever heard the name Mabel
Brown?” She shook her head. “How about Charlotte Gaines?”

“No.
Why?”

“They
were important characters in two of my previous lives. I think
you
were
those ladies.”

To
her credit, she didn’t scoff. She sat, indicated he should do the same. Once
they were seated across from each other, she steepled her fingers and bounced
them against her pursed lips.

“It
makes a ton of sense,” he insisted.

“How
do you figure that?”

He
gave her a brief rundown of the lives he’d viewed with Verity, making a strong
case for their connection to her, Contel, and Isabelle.

“This
Mabel and Ezra,” she said when he finished. “What happened to them?”

“I
don’t know,” he admitted. “I was only shown their interaction with Jeremiah.”

“But
you have a theory.” She pointed a finger at his face.

“Yeah.
I think...” The words refused to leave his lips, and he cleared his throat,
began again. “I think they may have been caught by the Confederacy. In which
case, they were probably executed for giving aid and comfort to the enemy.”

“Making
you ultimately responsible for their deaths,” she summed up. “You sure that
ain’t just your guilty conscience making shit up?”

He
considered that. “You could be right. I’m speculating, based on what happened
at Arthur Kill and in Bed-Stuy. Something keeps bringing us together, culminating
in this time around, where we’re all here at this exact moment. Well, all
except Isabelle, who’s sort of here while still residing on Earth.”

“Isabelle!”
Xavia leaped to her feet. “Shit. I forgot to tell you about Isabelle.”

A
chill raced through him. At the mention of Isabelle’s name, Xavia’s attitude
had flipped from curious to frantic. “Tell me what about Isabelle?”

Leaning
across the desk, she fumbled for her clipboard. “She showed up on my renewed
roster when I got back from my meeting with Uriah.”

“What
do you mean she ‘showed up’? What roster?”

“My
newest offenders’ list.” Her screen lit up, and she rolled a finger across the
slick surface.

“That’s
impossible.” He waved off her concern. “Isabelle’s fine. She’s great, as a
matter of fact. Even Verity said so. She underwent some gamma procedure that
stopped the tumor’s progression. She’s staying with Justin and Tony until she
recuperates, but she’s—”

“She’s
pregnant, Sean.”

The
chill intensified for a flash, then heated to lightning electric. “That’s not
funny, Xavia.”

“No,
it’s not,” she agreed, her expression solemn. “Especially since I think
you
may be the father.”

“What
the hell are you saying? I can’t possibly be the father.”

“No?
Let’s look at the facts. You told me you two made love. She’s insisting the
baby’s father is dead. Face it, Sean. They don’t come much deader than you.”

He
took a shaky breath, then another. “Okay. Say I believe you. Even if it was
true, there’s no way Isabelle would commit suicide if she were really
pregnant.”

She
sighed. “God, you are the dimmest bulb. By not terminating the pregnancy, she’s
giving the doctors no chance to treat her tumor. They can’t risk harming the
fetus. She’s killing herself to save the baby. Which, according to the rules of
the Afterlife, is akin to suicide.”

A
black hole rose up inside him, devouring his soul, swirling him in oily pitch.
“Oh, Christ. Belle. No. She can’t.”

“She
plans to.”

“I
have to stop her. If I can talk to her, I can get her to see reason.”

After
dropping the clipboard, Xavia grabbed his hand. “Same as before?”

“Yeah.”
He placed his palm flat against her chest, felt the pulse barrel from her
source to his need.

Fully
charged, he pictured Isabelle in his mind and projected toward her place on
Earth. And hit the wall. He redoubled his efforts, strained against the
invisible bonds preventing him from free flight. Nothing. He closed his eyes
and pushed all other thoughts away, propelling his cells toward Earth. He
didn’t budge.

“Sean?”
Xavia’s prompt forced him to open his eyes.

“I’m
blocked,” he admitted with a sigh of defeat. “Completely, totally blocked.”

She
let out an exasperated whoosh of air. “Great. Now what?”

“You
try.”

“Me?”
she screeched. “Are you crazy?”

“Why?
What’s the problem?”

“For
starters, I wouldn’t know how.”

“I’ll
talk you through it.”

“Oh,
sure. And once I get out there, how do I get back? I was never a bounty hunter.
I have no idea how to transport between realms.”

“You
have a better idea on how to stop Isabelle?”

“As
a matter of fact, I do.” She picked up her clipboard. “The old-fashioned way.
In her dreams.”

Whenever
Isabelle rolled over in her sleep, the damned I.V. line yanked the skin on her
hand and jolted her awake. This time, though, the fine hairs on her skin
prickled, along with the sudden shock of pain. A tall, shadowy figure stood
over her bed. Clutching her throat, she gasped.

“Easy,
Isabelle,” the figure said in a sultry, feminine voice as dark as the room.
“I’m not here to hurt you.”

She
slowly slid up into a sitting position. “You’re not?”

“No.
I’m a friend of Sean’s.”

“A
friend of Sean’s?” She peered in the darkness, but only discerned a willowy
outline. Did this woman...phantom...really know Sean? Or was she an axe
murderer who’d somehow climbed up the exterior stucco wall, scaled the wrought
iron rail, landed on the balcony, crept into her bedroom, and now waited to
slice off her victim’s head? “Are you dead, too?”

“Yes.”

“What’s
your name?”

“Xavia.”

“Is
that with an X or a Z?”

“X.”

Isabelle
relaxed a bit. An axe murderer wouldn’t engage in chitchat. Maybe this woman
really was a friend of Sean’s. “I bet you didn’t find many personalized
keychains at the dollar store when you were a teenager, huh?” Squinting, she
tried to discern if any other visitors lingered nearby.
Nope. Just me and
someone else’s shadow
. “Where is Sean? Why didn’t he come himself instead
of sending you?”  Flipping off the covers, she slid her legs off the bed,
ready to rise. “If you guys have hurt him in some way because of me...”

“Relax
and get back into that bed before you hurt yourself,” the woman commanded. “I
really am a friend, not some monster set on punishing either of you.”

“So
then, where is he? He picked a helluva time for a disappearing act, you know. I
could really use his counsel these days.”

“I
know. That’s why I’m here. Sean’s been blocked from contact with you, but he
wanted me to tell you—”

“Belle?”
Justin’s words came from the hall, followed by the sudden glare of the bedroom
light. “Hey, sweetie, are you okay?”

She
woke up at once. Shielding her eyes with one hand on her brow, she scanned the
Barbie bedroom. Nothing. No one. The shadow had disappeared when the bedroom
light flicked on. “Yeah, I think so.”

“You
were shouting in your sleep. What happened?”

“Umm...”
She glanced around again. “A nightmare, I guess.”

He
sat in the chair near her I.V. machine, the apparatus that allowed her to stay
in Justin’s house rather than the hospital. According to her obstetrician, Dr.
Lindsey, her extreme morning sickness could eventually lead to dehydration.
Dehydration would produce chemicals in her body that were fatal for the baby.
Only continual fluid replenishment kept them both safe.

“Wanna
talk about it?”

“No.”
Justin knew all of Dr. Lindsey’s instructions. But he had no idea Dr. Regalbuto
had urged her to terminate the pregnancy because the tumor in her brain had not
responded as well to the gamma knife treatment as originally thought.

“I
heard you calling out for Sean in your sleep.”

Oh.
Right. That’s what Justin wanted to talk about. Not her medical condition.

“And
it’s not the first time,” he added as he reached to pat her hand. “I know you
miss him. You might feel better if you talk about him. Where’d you meet?”

Well,
this should be entertaining for a while
. “Actually,” she said with a nostalgic smile, “we met right
around here.” Literally.

“In
Malibu? Wow. How cool. How long did you know him?”

“Not
long.”

“How
long?” He sucked in a breath and covered his mouth with his hand—a second too
late. “You weren’t cheating on Carlo with Sean, were you?”

“No!
Of course not.”

“So,
what? You met this guy and crawled into bed with him the very same day?”
Shaking his head, he tsked. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for love at first
sight, but sex at first sight can be dangerous, chickie.”

“It
wasn’t like that,” she retorted.

“No?
Then what was it like?”

How
could she possibly explain without sounding like she’d gone ‘round the bend?
“Forget it,” she grumbled and slid beneath the blankets again. “You’d never
understand.”

“Me?
Honey, I understand you like nobody else. I know
all
your secrets—or, at
least, I thought I did until you kept this Sean guy from me. But, if you really
don’t trust me...”

Her
impatience revolted, and she blurted, “He’s dead, Justin! He’s been dead since
I was a kid.”

Whoops.

She
would’ve liked to take back the confession, but Justin’s eyes widened with
interest, and he sat up, fully engaged.

“Wait.
What exactly are you saying?” He placed a hand on her forehead. “Are you
running a fever?”

On
a sigh, she propped up her pillow and pulled herself against it to face him.
“I’m perfectly lucid, binky. I told you. There’s no way you could possibly
understand.”

He
frowned. “Try me.”

“I
just did.”

“Try
again.”

Did
she dare? God knew, she’d appreciate talking to somebody living about her
relationships with the dead. “If I try again, you have to promise to listen to
the whole story. You can’t make fun or ask me if I’m crazy. And no
interrupting.”

“When
did you join the CIA?”

Umbrage
brewed between them. “You know what? Forget it. Forget I said anything.
Goodnight. Turn off the light on your way out.”

“Oh,
come on, Belle. Don’t be like that. I was kidding.”

“Too
late.”

He
jerked the covers from her, flooding her with instant cold from the air
conditioning, which gained him a gasp as well as her undivided attention. “I
swear on the life of your child, I’ll behave.”

She
studied him with a jaundiced eye. Did she dare? Maybe. She certainly couldn’t
ask for a more sincere vow. “Okay then.” At first, the story came out in
halting tones. “I met Sean...after I tried to...the night you brought me here
from the hospital after...”

“After
you tried to kill yourself,” Justin supplied.

She
glared at him. “That’s strike one.”

“Oh,
come on! That’s not fair.” His chipmunk cheeks flushed pink. “You seemed
reluctant to say it. I just wanted us to get past that awkward moment.”

“Do
you wanna hear this or not?”

“Yes.”

“Then
be quiet and let me tell you.”

He
mimed a zipper across his lips.

“Where
was I? Don’t!” She held up a hand. “Don’t answer that. I know exactly where I
was.” She paused, waiting for her brain to catch up before she spoke again.
“Sean came to me in my dream that night.”

True
to his word, Justin kept his mouth closed, though she could tell by the tic in
his jaw, he struggled to stay silent.

“It
wasn’t your normal dream. I mean, one minute, I was asleep in this bed and the
next, I was sitting on the boardwalk with this incredible guy seated next to
me. He wanted me to promise I wouldn’t try to kill myself again. You see, he
killed himself in 1982 and now his job is to keep other people from making his
mistake.”

Never
a stellar actor, he tried to play banal, but wound up looking horrified
instead. “Mmm-hmm...”

“I
know this sounds ludicrous, but bear with me, okay?”

He
nodded.

She
told him all of it: Sean’s suicide, their first meeting, their conversations,
their dinner date, the trip to the Maldives, all the routine visits where he’d
pop in to check on her then pop out again, and included the intervention she
staged with the poor teenager in Ohio.

“I
saved that girl’s life, Justin,” she exclaimed. “That’s when I realized Sean
was right. Every one of us is on this earth for a purpose. And playing Bethany
Shippe wasn’t mine. Most of us get plenty of years to figure out why we’re
here. I thought I was gonna run out of time before I discovered mine. And then
I agreed to have that gamma knife thingy.”

“Mmm-hmm...?”

“You
remember how I kept calling for Sean that day?”

He
nodded.

“Well,
he showed up. He knew I was scared so he went into the machine with me. Did you
know that ghosts are really energy? And apparently, when a ghost goes through
any kind of radiation, it disperses his energy in a very...” She glanced down
at her belly. “...
creative
way.” She grinned up at Justin, whose
expression had only grown more distressed as the tale continued.

The
room was silent, and Isabelle’s chest tightened with anticipation the longer
she waited for Justin’s reaction. When her heart pounded and cold shivers
racked her and he still hadn’t replied, she slapped the mattress. “Dammit,
Justin, say something.”

He
rose from the chair, leaned over the bed, and kissed her forehead. “Get some
sleep, sweetheart.” Without another word, he left the room, turning off the
light before closing the door behind him.

~~~~

When
Xavia lifted her gaze from the clipboard and sat back to rub her neck, Sean
craned to see over her shoulder. “What? What happened? Why’d you stop?”

“She
woke up,” Xavia replied.

“So?
You have to talk to her. Tell her she can’t go through with the pregnancy. Tell
her what will happen to her if she dies.”

“I
will, but I can’t right now. I can only communicate with her when she’s
asleep.”

Desperation
ratcheted up his fears for Isabelle, and he gripped the edge of the desk so
hard his knuckles whitened. “Xavia, she can’t wind up here. She deserves better
than this place.”

“I’m
doing the best I can, okay? As soon as she falls asleep again, I’ll talk to
her, I promise.”

“And
how much time will have passed on Earth by then? What if she’s too far along to
stop the pregnancy when you finally get her to see reason? For God’s sake, she
might already be dead and processed. For all we know, she was just assigned as
Contel’s new trainee in bounty hunting. Or Sherman’s newest assistant.”

Xavia
shook her head. “Not possible. I would have been notified if she’d already
terminated.”

“
Terminated
?!”
He gave a mirthless chuckle. “Isn’t that nice? Such a sanitary phrase for such
an ugly event. Dammit, Xavia, do something. Something with purpose, for shit’s
sake!”

“Sean,
I’m doing the best I can here,” she repeated with the slow cadence of someone
speaking to a lunatic. “But there are some things I can’t control.”

The
calmer her tone, the more frantic he became. Raking his fingers across his
scalp, he paced. “I need to see Verity then. Convince her to let me communicate
with Isabelle. She’s the only one who can make this happen.”

“Jeezus,
Sean, get a fucking grip already,” Xavia snarled. “Isabelle is no longer your
responsibility. You have other cases that need your attention. High time you
learned that, in this department, we win some, we lose some.”

He
came to a dead stop. “I
won’t
lose her. I can’t.”

“She’s
just another case.”

“No,
she’s not. Not to me.”

“And
that’s part of the problem. I warned Sherman this might happen. You can’t let
yourself get too emotionally involved in your cases. It’ll eat you up and spit
you out every time you lose one.” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
“Believe me, I know.”

“I
know you do,” he said, curling his fingers inside her palm. “But Isabelle is
different. She’s important to me. Please, Xavia? Please help me save her life.”

“You
really should just let her go.” Sensing his argument, she pulled her hand from
his and raised it in his face. “I’ll do what I can, but ultimately, the
decision is hers. Like it was yours and it was mine.”

“And
if you knew then what you know now, would you have still dragged that razor
down your wrist?”

She
didn’t reply immediately. He knew why. As thrilled as she was to have spent
time with Contel, Contel was
not
Noah. Right now, she had to be thinking
about all the missed lifetimes, all the tears she’d shed over losing her son
forever.

Time
to give her a good verbal push off the ledge. “Forever’s a long time, Xavia,”
he murmured.

Surrender
dulled the sheen in her eyes. “Go,” she said on a sigh. “But keep me posted
where you are and what you’re up to.”

“Thank
you,” he exclaimed. Lifting her hand, he kissed the knuckles one at a time.
“Thank you.” Kiss. “Thank you.” Kiss. “A thousand times, thank you.”

She
yanked her hand away and waved him off, the gold and silver bangles on her
wrist creating a musical interlude. “Get outta here. But be careful. Remember
the Chasm.”