The Darkness in Dreams (Enforcer's Legacy, #1)(15)
“I don’t think it turned out all that well.”
“No. For most of them, it wasn’t the gift they expected, and they failed to realize love could be so fragile. They made mistakes. The girls made mistakes. We were never meant to remember, you know, for that reason. But the magic wasn’t perfect. It didn’t prevent some of that pain from bleeding into each life, even when there’s no memory of the cause.”
“You’re telling me that because I feel lost and alone after some of those dreams, it’s a fragment of a past life leaking through?”
“Is that so hard to believe, given what you sense from the earth?” Marge placed a hand on Lexi’s forearm. “I’m not saying it’s easy. We have to face who we really were, what we did, what they did. It can be shattering in some instances. I had difficulty, but Robbie was better able to cope. He helped me through it.”
“Who’s supposed to help me through it, Marge?”
The other woman glanced at the two men standing in the distance. “Christan is everything they are, cruelly immortal in so many respects. But he follows a code of honor. There’s goodness in him, or at least there was. I think he’s forgotten what it’s like to be human.”
Lexi pressed a fist hard against the pain in her chest. Desperate, stinging emotions held her riveted, taut somewhere on the edge of the past. A past she could not remember.
“If it’s Christan, I can’t do this.”
“Of course you can.”
“No.” Lexi shook her head. “You see the way he looks at me. I. Can’t.”
“He’s been in the Void a long time. Robbie tells me it’s a cold, empty place devoid of all emotion. It takes time to find who you are again.”
“I’m not going on that journey with him.”
“He’ll just come find you again. At least talk to him.”
The image of Christan sprawled in her office chair rose unbidden, and Lexi’s chest felt so tight she thumped her fist below her collarbone. “We don’t talk, Marge.”
“You’ve had many lifetimes with him. Aren’t you the least curious?”
“No.”
“How can you pretend your reality hasn’t changed? Can you unsee Arsen, changing in front of you? You can’t. And you can’t sleep at night, either, now that you know someone was in your cottage. They forced you to dream and watched while it happened.”
“Why, Marge? It makes no sense.”
“Not in human terms, but perfect sense for immortals. Arsen thinks this is an old enemy trying to weaken the Calata. Night terrors exploit the weakness in the magic and bring the past life memories closer to the surface. Someone wants us to remember and they don’t care what they have to do. It’s harming the girls, and the warriors will break the Agreement if it’s not stopped.”
“Is that why Christan’s back?”
“Part of the reason. He can control the warriors.”
“And the other part of the reason?”
“They’ve killed three girls. And whoever is doing this now seems to be targeting you.”
“God, Marge.” Lexi squeezed her eyes shut, felt the return of the migraine as it sliced behind her eye. “I’m already terrified.”
“There’s a threat out there.” The woman grabbed Lexi's hands and leaned forward. “I would never lie to you about something as important as this.”
Lexi tugged free of Marge and rose to her feet, walked several paces away until all she could see was the darkening light that filled the canyon. It was too late, she thought, as shadows settled into purple. They would never leave this place in daylight.
She followed a small trail, worn down by the animals who existed in this wilderness, the deer, perhaps, who roused themselves at dusk to feed. The various predators who culled the herds. This was Hells Canyon, marked on the old maps as the Empty Place. It was fitting, she supposed, that everything she once believed had been called into question, in this landscape filled with utter emptiness, other than the susurration of the wind.
The wind stopped and Lexi saw him. He was standing ten feet away, legs apart, arms crossed, so still he could have been carved in stone. In the hard blade of his mouth she could see the beautiful, implacable weapon the immortals created, an impossible creature of ancient origins. The dying sun lost itself in his hair. The scent of him weakened her legs. The space between them vibrated as if electrically charged.
Lexi took a step back but there was no escaping. The sun was on her face and it felt like him. Every breath drew him into her lungs. The breeze lifted her hair and it was his fingers fisting. He was silent and he terrified her. He was the kind of man who could break a woman and she couldn’t let him close. Could never let him close.
She felt the hard, thick wall he erected so easily and there was not an ounce of give in him. Nothing soft. Nothing reasonable. He was the knife that could pierce her heart before she felt the thrusting blade and she knew, now, recognized the fear behind the truth. He had destroyed her, in more than one lifetime. And he would do it again if she let him.
Her heart thudded so hard her chest hurt.
“I’m going for a walk,” she said.
CHAPTER 7
Trees in the landscape could be soothing. In Rock Cove, Lexi would wrap her arms around the ancient Sitka spruce, feel the energy rising in the sap. If the trees were willing, they would expand and retract in time to a human’s breathing, share both strength and resiliency. There were no trees in this desert landscape, though, and Lexi felt neither strong nor resilient.