Redefined

  Cashton smiled disdainfully. “Charlie, that boy that was my age in the veil helped me break a lot of bad habits and got me back on track. I don’t know that I would be this prepared to help you with what little I have if it wasn’t for him.”

  “Why are they like that? Why can they not just lay it out?” I asked him, knowing he had to feel the same way I did: completely abandoned.

  “Forced fate is the worst sin where we come from. They would never tell us what to do or think. Your soul is supposed to tell you all you need to know and when you need to know it.” He nodded to me. “She gave you those seven sheets, though. That messes with my timeline, too. They are blank, which means none of us have started.”

  “Landen and Willow killed Donalt, though,” I argued.

  “No,” he said with a bit of smirk. “They killed the vessel he was in. When the kills are done, the masters are brought down, and those pages will fill so the story can be told forevermore. A new original book, if you will.”

  “So we are looking for first, or something like that,” Draven clarified.

  “See, I just put that idea in your head. Not exactly. You go at any first as weak as you are, and it will be over. You have to climb the ranks, figure out who is in charge so you know where and how to strike. I’d keep releasing the damned because soon enough the more corporeal dead will start talking - telling you everything you need to know. I’m sure you have already built up a reputation. The dead can sense almost anything in a soul. They know you did that because you wanted to, not because you had to. So don’t change your reasons for what you do now. That is like the one thing you have been on track with.”

  “Plan to do that tomorrow night. It’s supposed to help Landen weaken Esterious,” Draven said a bit apprehensively, wondering if that was a good idea.

  “It’s all good. Landen is smart. He is not going to let you cross a line you shouldn’t. Do your thing. Let him do his,” Cashton stated absentmindedly. He was focused on his guitar at that moment.

  I really wished Cashton would just come out and tell Draven to drop any idea of joining up with Aden to take down Xavier. In his own roundabout way, he had. But I knew Draven: blunt worked best when it came to my stubborn boy.

  “I’m about to bail,” Cashton said as he toyed with the strings on the guitar. “You guys just chill or whatever. No worries about Silas. I can get to him since he is linked to Charlie. It’s not going to matter anyway because nothing unnatural or un-normal or dangerous is going to happen tonight - because my sista and the boy she loves do not engage with ignorant souls who think they know the game when they have not even stepped on the field yet.”

  I held in a grin as Draven said, “Right,” before nodding to Cashton.

  “Okay, so I’m going to play. Close your eyes, listen to the music, then turn your senses to the inside. Hear, see, smell, and touch on the inside. You’ll feel like you are falling asleep, but stay awake in your mind. When you float, float. Don’t fight it. It will most likely be wicked when you open your eyes – you will see energy a little differently and such. It’s all good...part of it.”

  He started to play a song of my father’s that I knew. One, thankfully, that Draven knew, too. It was slow and sweet but strong enough to make you focus on it.

  I leaned against Draven and closed my eyes. The memories of the time that I had done this in a not-so-distant past came to me. I started to let myself drift, chasing the chords of music. Cashton played the song over and over, better than any track that I had heard my father play on. He was gifted, no doubt.

  “Open your eyes, little one,” Cashton said as he neared the end of the song once again.

  My soul seized when I realized I was standing next to where he and Draven were siting. A gleaming white light was around the fire, the sand, everything, and I could see the lingering essence of music fading from the guitar in Cashton’s hand.

  He nodded to my side, and when I glanced there I saw Draven.

  “Wicked,” Draven mouthed as his eyes filled with excitement.

  “Cool...cool...you’re out,” Cashton said. “You guys need to practice this. You should not need anyone to put you to sleep like a child, especially me. Just calm your mind, breathe deep, and rise.” He sat the guitar down. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” he said with a wink as he vanished, leaving me alone with Draven.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The sky took my breath away. It was like the sea was above us; you could see the stars wave past you. I fell to my knees as I gazed up at them, finding it odd that I could feel the sand with my soul, that I had the illusion of breathing, of a slow heartbeat. Every sensation was nothing less than remarkable.

  A moment later, I felt the hum of Draven’s energy and lowered my head to see him next to me with a guitar in his hand, which made me grin. I knew he wanted to ‘see’ the music - to see if the energy we always talked about when we played actually existed. I’d only caught a glimpse of it when Cashton was playing. I definitely wanted to see it again.

  Every part of me became focused on him as he arched his fingers around the strings. He tested the sound with one chord - just one - and as it was created what looked like tiny diamonds raced away from the guitar. Those diamonds swirled with the fire then broke free from their huddle. Some reached for the stars, others for the ocean. Some even fell to the sand.

  I nodded for him to play more, and he did. When they invented words like ‘beauty’ I doubt they imagined what we were seeing now. And even if they did, they had to have realized there could not be a word to describe this.

  Every movement of Draven’s fingers created life, a sound, an energy that was unfathomable. He would finish one song and begin another. It didn’t matter if the song was a lullaby or an aggressive sound, the beauty and energy were the same: astounding.

  I’d always known that music was power. That it could either change a mood or amplify the one you were in, but I never realized the life behind it, the core energy that it was capable of.

  As if Draven could feel the yearning in my energy, he finished the song he was playing and gently handed me the guitar. Our fingers grazed each other in the exchange. I felt a part of me, a part him, grasp for each other, begging to be closer - but at that moment we were shy, terrified to give in to that need. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away first. I ignored the painful, singeing coldness that echoed where his energy was and began to play.

  I played my father’s song, the one that I heard in that boom from the sky. I couldn’t really remember playing it before. I’m sure somewhere along the line I’d toyed with the chords, but I ultimately let it be, knowing I could never quite play it the way he did, with such ease.

  The sound of it a few days ago had rocked my world and sent me into a deep sleep. As I watched the life of the music dance with the energy of the shore, I grew thankful that even though I’d lost two people that meant the world to me, the universe gave me Cashton back. I knew we’d find a way back to the best parents in the universe some way, somehow, in some time.

  Draven pointed to the sky, and I watched as every diamond that was coming from the sound I was making began to lead to the heavens. Above us, among the millions of stars, I thought I saw distant planets…universes. It was hard to understand if it was real or not because the sky was starting to be filled with sporadic clouds.

  A thumping sound caught my attention as the song I was playing ended. It was of large raindrops hitting the sand. A second later, a crack of thunder scared me to the point where I was instantly jolted into my body. I gasped, angry that I had lost my hold on that meditation. I glanced to my side to see the guitar in the sand, then felt Draven move next to me. He was back in his body, too.

  I dove toward the guitar, not wanting it to get wet in the downpour that was building by the second. By the time I’d reached it and turned, Draven was kicking sand over the dying fire. A blanket was in his hand. He ran to my side and put it over me before we both ran to the beach house. By the time we got there the
blanket was useless. It was soaking wet.

  At first we couldn’t get the door to open because our hands were too slippery. A crash of thunder, though, made us jump and finally push our way into the cottage. We both were laughing at how easily we were spooked. I leaned the guitar against the wall as he secured the door.

  The laughter stopped as he caught my stare in the dark room. He stepped closer to me. Even though the essence of him was so warm, so numbing, I shivered. Thinking it was my wet hoodie I slid it off just before Draven reached to pull the large pin that was holding up my hair. Wet strands fell across my shoulders, sending another chill through me. He carefully ran his fingers through the long, dark locks of my hair. I heard the smaller pins fall to the floor.

  He smiled shyly. “There’s my Charlie,” he whispered, leaning forward. He hesitated before his lips reached mine, as if he were asking for permission.

  A hunger charged through my core and before I knew it, my lips were against his as my hands pulled his wet T-shirt off him. Chills raced across his skin, but as my hands rushed across his back, they vanished. The heat of passion gripped us both.

  He picked me up and wrapped my legs around him before we fell to the floor.

  I couldn't get over how different he felt, his touch. It was careful, yet urgent. When his lips rushed down my neck, I heard myself gasp, knowing that it had never felt like this before.

  Thunder erupted, causing us to pull each other closer. We moved with the fierceness of Mother Nature. Wild one moment and innocently the next. Each finding a new way to take the other to a high we had never felt before. It was as if we were both old and new lovers, comfortable with each other, but enticed by the simplest caress of skin.

  So much had happened between us, to us, but none of that mattered right now. He was mine, and I was his. This was our home. As lightning highlighted the room and thunder provided a dense beat, he held me tighter. My every response had but one purpose: to tell him that this belonged to him, that it could never be shared or sacrificed. I was begging for understanding, but he was guarded in giving it to me. All his touch told me was that he would die for me, that he would die for us all, and none of that mattered. It didn’t matter because right now he was alive. In my arms, he was alive.

  The storm ended hours ago. I’d changed into my Capri tights and a dry tank top. Draven had opted for a different pair of jeans, which hung just so around his hips. He hadn’t bothered to put on another shirt, and I wasn’t complaining. Though we’d been together for year’s nights like this, one that was full of solitude and privacy had never come. It was long overdue.

  We’d just finished half a gallon of lemonade and a piece of cake, all of which we found in the baskets and the refrigerator that was fully stocked. We were toe-to-toe on the couch in the living room. He was adjusting the strings on his guitar and checking the sound. I always admired the care he gave his instruments. You would think they were living, breathing beings the way he doted over them. I guess after what we saw tonight, he was right: his guitar was a creator of life, energy. I glanced at my father’s guitar, which was still on its stand, deciding that I didn’t trust it, not after what happened the last time I’d played it. I let it be and turned my stare to Draven and his guitar once again.

  “What did you and Cashton talk about?” I asked him as I set my glass on the table behind him. When I eased back into the tangle of his legs, I found an alluring gaze awaiting me.

  “A lot,” he said so quietly, I barely heard him in the quiet room. “What makes us stronger as one.”

  I’m sure he noticed the sharp intake of breath that I took. A ghost of a smile lingered in his eyes just before they fell to the guitar across him.

  “He’s confident, like you. Doesn’t say anything unless he believes it.”

  “I kinda like that about him. I like that he backs up the point that opposites attract.”

  His grin was nothing less than sinful. “He mentioned that a few times, and when he was done he wanted to know if he kicked my ass if it would sink in faster.”

  I belted into laughter.

  “I don’t think Kara would have ever had a conversation with me like that,” he said, blushing as he toyed with the strings on the guitar.

  “I miss her…”

  “She’s safe,” he promised, catching my gaze. “I think we’ll see Nana and Dad tomorrow.”

  “What are the details about that? Isn’t this like a movie set or something?”

  I only vaguely remembered his dad asking him if he would play for his friend. It was like he was supposed to be a part of an ending party to the movie they were making. Draven had thought it would be a good idea because the city it was in was New Orleans. He was sure there would be energy there that needed to be released.

  Draven grinned. “Apparently, Dad knows a producer who is wrapping up a film in that city. They used the song in one of the scenes. The cast and staff know it and love it. They will be our audience near one of the oldest plantations in the area. Dad’s even added to it: a violin, keyboard, and another drum. It expands the part where I always leave, gives us more time on the song to bring those souls back.”

  “Wow,” I mouthed, seeing what he was saying - hearing it as it was rehearsed, the track of Draven’s voice playing with the new instruments. “I don’t know what’s cooler: that sound, or the fact that it’s going to be in a movie.”

  His grin grew, realizing that part of it for the first time. “That is pretty unbelievable.”

  “Are you sad?” I asked.

  “Why would you ask that?” he said as he gently set the guitar on the ground before reaching for me.

  I let my fingers entangle in his, feeling the hum of his skin. “’Cause...that is something that could kick-start your career, but we’re not even there to enjoy it.”

  His warm hands tightened around my fingers as he pulled me closer. I crawled to his side of the couch and lay on his chest. His fingers drifted through my hair as his chest gently rose and fell.

  “I think after what we saw on the beach tonight, we both understand that fame is not the gift. It’s the life the music gives. We’re forever our music. We are eternal life.”

  “I just hope that no matter what we have to face, you always get to play for an audience. You’re mesmerizing on stage. It’s like you were born to do it.”

  He sighed as his fingertips danced across my back. “Music is alive, we know that. My music may only reach a thousand or so, maybe more. But what if one of those thousands created a painting or graphic image and that image not only inspired people, but also caused one of their fans to write a different song or create something else completely? That song we made will circle the world, no doubt, but before long there will be no way to trace its existence back to us writing it in Salem. The only thing familiar will be the energy. I don’t think we can save the damned with one song - or even several - but I think we can cause a chain reaction. For all we know, we already have. That movie is a broad outlet, no doubt. We’ll live on through that sound long after we finish this life.”

  I heard a goodbye in his voice. I heard him tell me that he was not going to let anything hurt me or allow me to face anything evil in this world, that he was almost certain that at some point we might have to say goodbye, find each other in another life. I felt my heart seize with dread.

  He had to see that we were one, that if something happened to him, I would feel it. Beyond words, I would feel it.

  “What did you and Cashton talk about again?” I asked, hoping he would see my quiet argument.

  “Taking care of each other,” he said just under his breath as his fingertips traced the strap on my tank top.

  “Are you afraid?” I whispered as my fingertips outlined his collarbone.

  “Hurting you would kill me,” he said in a husky whisper as his lips found my forehead.

  I laid my head on his chest. “The last time I tested you it was the wrong place and the wrong time. I’m not going to make that mistake aga
in. You tell me when. Obviously, it won’t be tonight. We lost our grip on that meditation.”

  It was silent for a second as he took in my invitation to try.

  “What makes you think we can’t meditate again?” he finally asked in his trademark hypnotic voice.

  I felt my skin blush, then tense against him. “I...I don't know.”

  His fingertips danced across the visible skin on my shoulders as he let out a deep breath. “Well, if we can’t mediate on our own...we’ll take that as a sign.”

  He may be taking that as a sign, but I was taking it as a challenge - and I loved to be challenged.

  “I’m calming my mind now, Mr. Michaels,” I said against his chest as I let out a deep breath.

  I heard him laugh quietly. One thing was for sure: we both knew how to tempt one another. I had to let it be his idea, and he had to challenge me.

  The anticipation was not helping me calm down at all, so I just pretended I was falling asleep. As my eyes closed, I remembered all that I’d seen on the beach tonight, how the world would never look the same to me again, how music would never look the same. I focused on that calm feeling. When Draven’s arms wrapped around my waist and I felt the hum of his essence I was nearly there. A few long moments later, I heard the whisper of my name and opened my eyes to see Draven’s essence, his soul standing before me. I rose from where I was leaving my body behind to rest blissfully in the arms of Draven’s body.

  I wished I could talk so I could say something smart, witty, something like ‘I’m sorry - were you trying to challenge me?’ Instead, I tilted my head slightly as I gazed at him, all of the energy he was made of. There were other colors branching off him, but in the core of his soul I saw light. I focused on that light, the beauty of his soul.

  His soul stepped closer to mine. I could feel my emotions swarming in every direction. I didn’t want this to go wrong. If it went perfectly, there would be no way he could ever argue that we were on borrowed time. This moment would be my weapon for eternity.