On some level, he knew he was either dead already, or right on the verge.
He saw Juliet on the patio. She wore a long flowered skirt, backlit with dusky, late afternoon light that revealed the lovely shape of her legs. He could recall during one dreamglide that he’d run the palms of his hands over every curve. He’d kissed the same places, spending a lot of time on her inner thighs until her hips were rocking and she begged for relief. He’d loved working her sex, using his tongue and occasionally his fangs to give her pleasure.
She returned the favor as well. She was the kind of woman who enjoyed the male body and she’d shown it. She had a special fondness for his shoulders and had spent time sucking and biting them.
He’d loved his time in the dreamglide with Juliet.
He called to her now. Juliet?
Though he tried to reach her several times, she didn’t respond, but remained on the patio, oblivious.
He realized by the time of day, that he’d been unconscious all through the night after the battle at the canal and through the next day as well. That was a long time to be lingering between life and death.
Juliet sat down on a patio chair and laid out some birdseed on the tile not far from her feet, and waited. After a minute or so, the increasingly brave sparrows that had lined up on the rail, flew down to feed.
Why can’t you hear me, Juliet?
Another woman’s voice floated through his head, a very familiar voice. Because this isn’t her dreamglide. In fact, it’s not a dreamglide at all.
He shifted slightly, surprised that he could feel the pain of his wound. The ghost of his dead wife, Olivia, sat curled up in the nearby tall, wicker chair. She held one arm balanced on the side. She seemed at peace.
You look beautiful. Radiant.
Olivia smiled. I suppose I would.
She had blond hair that she wore in a twist, and she even had on her favorite pair of turquoise and silver earrings. They were large and dangly with three oval stones each. Her eyes were a lovely blue enhanced by the stones. One brow was raised slightly higher than the other. She’d always looked somewhat amused no matter the subject.
He asked the logical question. What are you doing here?
She shrugged and smiled some more. Thought you might need me.
Can you heal me?
She shook her head. Sorry, I don’t have those kinds of powers. Wish I did, and I also wish I’d survived the alter serum. When I passed, along with our children, I knew your solitude wouldn’t be good for you. Robert, you were always the kind of man who needed a family. You need one now.
He snorted, or at least that was the sound he was trying for. Not in this rathole.
You mean Five Bridges?
Of course. His gaze shifted involuntarily to Juliet. She stood up from her seat and snapped her fingers. The birds all scattered into the air. He wondered why she’d disturbed them until a yellow-striped cat jumped up on the narrow railing, lithe and ready for a quick meal. He stopped and stared at her then jumped into the patio.
Juliet smiled as she spoke to the cat. “You’ve ruined my biggest afternoon pleasure.” The cat meowed in response and rubbed up against a nearby plant stand.
Brann smiled as Juliet sat down once more then patted her lap. “Fine. Then come over here and I’ll give you a pet.”
Brannick sighed. He knew Juliet had a relationship with her neighbor’s cat. The feline was already purring as it leaped into her lap, took a complete circuit in order to find the best curling-up position, then settled in.
If cats could smile, this one did as he stared up at her. She looked down at him with an equal amount of affection and pushed her hand over his head, forcing his ears back. She ran her fingers in a slow sweep all the way down to the cat’s tail.
She petted the cat the way she made love to Brannick, as though there was no greater pleasure.
You love that about her, don’t you?
Olivia’s voice startled him. He should have felt embarrassed that he was enjoying the qualities of one woman while chatting with another who had once been his wife.
But he wasn’t really doing that, was he? Another indication consciousness had little to do with his present condition.
He fixed his attention on Olivia, wondering why she was here. She had a considering expression on her face as though she was trying to understand him. Why haven’t you remarried, Brann? It’s been thirteen long years.
I’ve already told you, because of Five Bridges.
Is it that bad?
It is. Corruption and murder, the trafficking of young women, drug-running and the cartels here are intent on expansion. That’s why you and the children died. Remember?
Of course. She wore tight black pants and ballet flats, a clinging blue top. Her clothes had always hugged her body, the opposite of Juliet.
He wondered if he was delirious. Where is this place that I can talk to you, yet still be here on Juliet’s sofa?
Right at the edge of paradise where you’re hovering. Apparently, you can’t decide to leave this world permanently, though you’re trying like crazy to do so. What’s hounding you toward death?
He shifted his gaze once more to Juliet. I couldn’t bear to lose her.
Is that the reason you’re trying to leave your body? You’re afraid of hurting again should Juliet, or anyone else you care about, die on you?
Was that what he was doing? He didn’t feel at all like he was trying to leave. But he could tell he wasn’t making an effort to stay, either.
The next moment, Olivia moved off the tall, wicker chair and knelt in front of Brannick. She took his face in her hands. How was that possible?
Brann, you’ve never let me and the kids go. That’s why I’m here. You’ve kept all of us on the edge of paradise, and I need you to move on so we can, too.
Olivia and the kids.
A feeling like fire burned hot in his chest, searing his heart. Grief flooded him, a profound agony a thousand times worse than his current sword cut, or any other battle wound he’d suffered over the years.
But how could he make a ghost understand his suffering? Olivia had perished with one child dying in her belly and the other already cold as ice and gone from the world. He’d been left behind to bear the weight of their lost lives, something Olivia had never experienced. So, how could she understand?
I did let you go, Olivia, to the degree I could.
You’d be married again already if you’d been able to pass through your grief.
He felt a spike of annoyance shoot through his head. Easy for you to say.
Her lips twisted in an amused smile. She leaned close and kissed his forehead, a strange ghostly sensation without real substance, yet real anyway. Let us go, Brann. I’m getting our children all grown up here in paradise and when your life has truly come to an end, when you’ve accomplished all that you need to in Five Bridges, we’ll be waiting to welcome you home.
He was going to argue, but just like that, Olivia was gone. The fire in his chest slowly died down, yet continued to deliver a constant familiar ache. He still missed his family. But had her visit been real? Was he really stuck at the edge of a place she called paradise, keeping his family from moving on?
Or was this just the delirium from a mortal wound?
His gaze once more shifted to Juliet. The cat had disappeared, and she now stood facing the canal and the eastern skies. The sun had set, and he could see stars above the homes opposite Juliet’s place. Her arms were crossed over her chest.
As had happened earlier, the awareness of how they were lovers in the dreamglide filled his mind. He couldn’t believe he’d kept the two parts of himself so thoroughly separate. He had a split mind in the same way he couldn’t seem to figure out whether to stay or to go.
He’d been lying to himself for five months, and he hated this reality. He felt like a coward, and the last thing he would ever be was a man who ran from a tough situation.
He knew his grief over the loss of his family
held him in a tight, crushing grip. But it had also served to keep him focused on what was important in his life as an alter vampire. Anything that prevented him from doing his duty as a border patrol officer had to go. He was committed to being a force for law and order within Crescent Territory.
So, how had he ended up in Revel? How had he become a powerful fae woman’s lover in a forbidden dreamglide environment?
And what was he supposed to do now?
~ ~ ~
Juliet stood on her patio, watching the last of the sunlight disappear from the emerging night sky. Because the back of her home faced east, she often spent this hour reflecting on her life. Agnes had taught her well.
The fae world tended to lean toward the philosophical, which of course made men or women like Roche an inexplicable anomaly in their territory.
The part of the canal over which her house looked was narrow but had strips of trees and grass and intermittent footbridges. In most ways, it resembled the main canal and surrounding landscape she and Brannick had flown through earlier.
She was at peace, or at least as much as she could be. For whatever reason, Brannick’s proximity to death had taken her back to her own near-death during her alter transformation.
She’d been in the hospital for most of the body-wracking experience, while the part of her becoming fae had flowed back and forth with her human self. It hadn’t been so much a battle of one form oppressively taking over the other weaker human part, but rather a merging. In that sense, it had been a simple adjustment, and she didn’t mind being a fae woman at all.
As a sage apprentice with a wise sage mentor of great spirit and strength, Juliet read and composed essays on the nature of life as an alter being. She had a blog that had over ten thousand human followers and about five hundred fae plus a few dozen more comprised of the other alter species. Her thoughts on life in Five Bridges tended to the theoretical and not the personal which meant she’d never once alluded to her dreamgliding with Brannick.
Until this moment, her alter life had been entirely intellectual, hidden, surface-based and in many ways a complete lie. She used a vampire in her dream-world to get her needs met. But she refused to date or to engage in any way that would be considered normal and healthy in real-time. Essentially, she was full of shit.
She could blog all she wanted about the beauty and majesty of life, but she wasn’t really living.
She turned back and stared at Brannick. His eyes were half-open and unseeing. She knew he wasn’t fully present. Emma had been right when she’d said he was hovering in some dark space between life and death. She knew he wasn’t gone, but he wasn’t with her, either.
He’d been in her home through the daylight hours and she’d gone to him at least a dozen times to try to ‘coax’ him back from the edge, just as Emma had told her to. But he’d been unresponsive.
A few minutes ago, when she’d had her neighbor’s yellow cat on her lap, she’d felt a shift in the energy in her living room. She’d hoped Brannick had started returning to his corporeal self.
But the energy had vanished a few minutes ago, and Juliet was back to waiting, but with hope dimming yet again.
She knew she had to make another effort to reach him, but she’d been putting it off.
Tears welled in her eyes. She didn’t want Brannick to die. She feared if she pressed him again, he’d take the last step and disappear from her life completely. Only then had she come to understand that despite the hidden quality of their relationship, he’d come to mean a great deal to her. She refused to call it love. She wouldn’t go that far. But he had eased her loneliness.
She knew that courage came in many forms. She wasn’t a powerful witch like Emma, who had taken out a monster of a wizard just a month ago. Emma was the kind of woman Juliet admired tremendously.
But Juliet had her own brand of courage as one who helped women escape Roche’s domination. The powerful fae still didn’t seem to know what she was up to, though she suspected the attack on the bridge could be a hint that he’d caught wind of her activities.
She released a sigh then turned away from the soothing canal waters and the balmy evening breeze.
Moving back into the house, she decided it was time to make another push to bring Brannick back from wherever the hell he’d gone.
What she knew in her spirit was that Brannick belonged here, in Five Bridges. He was needed.
She’d long since pushed the bamboo and glass coffee table out of the way to give herself access to him. He lay supported on his side by a pillow in front and one behind him, his lower half covered with a soft blanket. She knelt close to him and shifted the front facing pillow out of the way. Fresh blood stained the white bandage wrapped around his chest.
Her heart sank. Bleeding indicated he wasn’t healing himself. All alter species could self-heal to some degree. The more powerful the man or woman, the better the healing. Brannick should have been well on his way to restored health by now.
She placed a hand on his hip and another on his shoulder. She closed her eyes and entered her dreamglide world. She loved the initial entry moment, because she felt free, something she rarely experienced in her night-to-night fae life. Her normal existence felt bound up as if by ropes. She lived with a certain amount of tension every day, especially from the time Roche had tried to hijack her in a dreamglide.
But for this moment, as she entered the half-world most often associated with sleep and dreams, she was at peace.
Within the dreamglide she rose up from the side of the couch and watched Brannick closely. His breathing became regular though he didn’t open his eyes. At least in the dreamglide his eyelids were fully closed. In real-time they were half-open, an indication of his proximity to death.
Brann? Would he be able to respond?
Juliet? Her name returned very faintly, though in real-time Brannick was still out cold.
Juliet’s heart rate soared. The intuitive fae part of her knew he wasn’t dead. But hearing his telepathic voice was a powerful confirmation that she had a chance right now to bring him back.
But how?
CHAPTER FOUR
Brannick’s head hurt. That was his first thought as Juliet’s voice penetrated his mind.
He lay in a dense, dark gray air. He couldn’t see anything except wisps of smoky mist that clung to him, entwining around his arms and legs, pulling him toward the ground. A terrible fatigue had settled into every bone. He wanted to sleep, to fall into a slumber so deep he’d never wake up again.
Brann? Can you hear me? I need you to come back to me.
He wanted to respond, but couldn’t. He remembered that his wife had visited him. She kept encouraging him to do something, but he couldn’t remember what.
He forced himself to think, to figure out where he was and what had happened to him.
He’d been severely wounded, that much he knew. He could recall the blade point of a sword protruding from his abdomen, then disappearing. He’d felt nothing and passed out.
But, where was he now?
The dark mist tightened around him, pulling each limb hard. He had to get up. Had to fight this thing, but what was attacking him?
Some of the fog began to dispel, and he recognized Juliet’s living room, but not the real thing. He could see that the edges were blurry, a sure sign of a dreamglide and one he was very familiar with.
Then he understood. He’d somehow pulled himself into a dreamglide again, like he had when he’d first gotten sliced through. He saw it as a good sign, yet the pull on his body was a formidable force.
The dreamglide hovered off to the side of the room a few feet away from Juliet. Through the blurred portion, he could see that his body remained inert on the couch and that Juliet knelt beside him, her head bent. She had a hand on his hip and one on his shoulder. She looked like she was praying. Maybe she was.
Lifting his arm, he saw that he was not quite fully formed, another indication of his divided mind.
Yep, still at th
e edge of paradise.
Another entity moved into the room, a very male presence. It wasn’t formed at all, just a dark mass that had a familiar stench, like someone addicted to dark flame.
In real-time, Juliet removed her hands from his body and slowly stood up. She turned, her eyes wide with horror. At first, he thought she would shift in Brannick’s direction, that she was reacting to him.
Instead, she faced the intruder. Get out of here, Roche. You’re not wanted.
Roche. Shit.
Brannick knew he needed to be with Juliet, to stand beside her against the fae monster who wanted her in his sex shop. But he was so damn weak.
During his dreamglide time with Juliet, she’d told him that Roche had attempted more than once to pull her unwillingly into his dreamglide or at other times to invade hers. If he ever succeeded, he’d essentially be able to take over her mind and Juliet would belong to him. More than one gifted female fae had disappeared into his underground lair never to been seen again.
He watched as Roche, in his black, cloud-like form, began to envelop Juliet.
Panic struck hard. Though he might have his own reasons for sticking close to death, he wanted Juliet safe. And right now she was in danger and needed his help.
Within his dreamglide, he began to forge his inner strength, to pull himself out of his lethargy.
From deep within, he summoned his essential energy, both human and vampire. Somehow, he’d find a way to support her and keep Roche from taking over her mind.
As he dropped out of the dreamglide, he began the slow rise to consciousness.
~ ~ ~
Juliet stood protectively in front of Brannick, her heart hammering in her chest.
As Roche’s smoky dreamglide enveloped her, fear set in, and she found it hard to breathe. Would this be the one time Roche could break through her blocks and pull her into his world for good?
Roche’s telepathic voice pierced her mind. Come to me, Juliet. Even I can see Brannick doesn’t want to live. Let him go and come to me.