p; Emma turned to Juliet. “I’ve done all I can for him. You’ll need to take him home, then coax him back to life. Is that something you can do?”
More tears rolled down Juliet’s face. “I know him well, and I’ll do everything I can.”
Emma nodded. “You’ll do.”
When Juliet stood up, she wasn’t sure what to do with her hands since they were caked with Brannick’s blood.
She was about to rub them on her already soiled dress, when Emma stopped her. “Hold on. I’ve got something you can use.”
Emma reached into her satchel and drew out a small tub of wipes. She stood up, plucked about half-a-dozen from the container then went to work on Juliet’s hands as well as her own.
Juliet could have done it herself, but Emma’s touch, still vibrating with her witch power, eased Juliet. Emma took her time getting every bit of blood off Juliet’s fingers.
Juliet watched her perform this service as though she stood outside her body and observed Emma dispassionately from thirty feet away.
Emma then hugged her, an act that jerked Juliet back into herself. “You can do this, Juliet. I know it’s hard, but you can do it.”
The witch’s kindness had an immediate effect, filling Juliet with something akin to hope and definitely with purpose.
At about the same time, an EMT vehicle arrived.
When Emma released her, she and Vaughn apologized for having to leave, but they needed to stick close to the safe house.
Juliet totally understood. Their operation had proved a big success for human teens who escaped their captors. But their efforts had become dangerous work as well and the facility was under a constant threat of attack. Vaughn headed up the heavily armed security team that protected the building.
The moment they left, Juliet had the EMTs put Brannick on a stretcher. Each territory had a small hospital, but medical care wouldn’t do Brannick any good at this point. She would take him to her home just a couple hundred yards away. Then, God help her, she’d find some way to bring him back from the dead.
~ ~ ~
Brannick’s eyes were open, though he knew they were closed. Weird. From his time dreamgliding with Juliet, he recognized her home. It had a retro feel because of the bamboo furniture. He lay on his side on her couch with his chest bound tight. It was hard to breathe, though he wasn’t even sure he was taking any breaths at all. His heartrate had slowed to a few beats a minute.
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.