I folded the woolen protector over my hot water bottle, turned down the sheets, and tucked the water bottle down where my feet would go. Not very sexy, perhaps, but Robert and I had gotten to the point in our relationship where we could tolerate a few hot water bottles. Better than cold feet!
He'd been very concerned about my struggle with sleeping and nightmares recently. As I fiddled with the sheet, I got the feeling he was concerned about something else tonight.
We were to go to bed as normal, everything just very normal, but then...then when the nightmares came, Jocelyn would trace them back to their source and...stop whatever it was.
The nightmares had been frightening enough when I thought they were all in my head, or even me going crazy. I had hoped they weren't real; I had hoped I had an overactive imagination all of a sudden.
Robert had thought the nightmares were about him, about thinking he'd leave me. It was very sweet, but his reassurances didn't end them, and now I knew why.
It was magic again. It was — excuse my language — fucking magic, once again.
I had had about enough of magic. It never seemed to do anything really good in my life, or in the lives of those I loved. Yes, some of our dear friends were kept alive partly because of it, and I didn't wish them gone, but there were plenty of days when I would be perfectly happy if magic didn't exist in the world otherwise.
Sometimes it seemed to me that it was a secret poison, making people want power and making things especially dangerous for those who couldn't wield it. It made men like Silus think they were better than others, and it made men like sweet Jocelyn be turned into weapons, and have to live with the horrors of war ever after in their memories; being an actual, living weapon, not just a soldier.
I knew it was probably bitterness and lack of sleep talking. I had been in agony with the nightmares. The days: wonderful. The nights: well, a nightmare.
I was ready for it to end. And, like an unexpectedly appearing answer to prayer, startling and beautiful, Jocelyn had showed up. He was a self-contained, handsome magician I had once dated. He was a darling, really: he'd been very kind to me, and we'd stayed friends when the relationship didn't continue. That was unusual for me, to be able to stay friends with an ex.
It was hard to believe he was here, ready to find a way to free me from the nightmares.
But first I had to face one more. And knowing it was real, not just in my head, made me never want to go to sleep again.
Robert picked at the bedspread, his gaze downcast, looking at it instead of me. We were on opposite sides of the bed, ready to climb in. We wore pajamas — very domestic — and he had a glass of water beside his side of the bed, in case he got thirsty during the night. I had a silken face mask to block out the light, and my hot water bottle, and a book in case I couldn't sleep.
I wondered if he wasn't looking at me because he wanted to have sex tonight and was concerned the magicians would be spying on us. I didn't think so, though.
He had questions — and I thought they were probably about Jocelyn.
I didn't really want to have this conversation with him, because I loved him, I really did, but he hadn't been the first man in my life, and he got so terribly jealous when reminded of that fact.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, sighed, and patted it. "Why don't you come closer and talk to me?"
Robert looked up at me then, sheepish, something about him reflecting what he must have looked like when he was younger, a small boy worried about something instead of a tough soldier who never had doubts.
Sometimes I liked the soldier; but sometimes I just wanted him to slow down and remember not everything in life had to live by military precision. Feelings could matter more, and color and style and hugs and kissing and laughter.
Despite our differences, we'd both added so much to each other's lives, and grown together into an unstoppable love. At least, I hoped nothing would ever be able to tear us apart, and I didn't think it would.
We were both willing to learn and try, and keep trying. We'd gotten ever so much better about fighting properly, actually talking rather than running away or just demanding our own ways.
He'd been the worst about demanding, and I'd been the worst about running away, and we'd both improved significantly. Now I wasn't going to run away if he wanted to know, even though he probably didn't really want to know, just thought he did.
He didn't move closer, but he did stop moving his fingers on the bedspread. His eyes were vulnerable when he met mine, slightly haunted.
"Was...was he your...?"
"Yes," I said, because Jocelyn was my...whatever word he wanted to use.
Robert's brows rose. "You don't know what I was going to ask."
"So tell me." I smiled at him gently, almost sadly. I did love this man. I wished he didn't have so many ways to be disappointed in me, but I didn't think this should be one of them. We needed to discuss it, but I wasn't going to be ashamed of my past — not today, not about Jocelyn. Jocelyn had been a great lover, and dating him had been one brief, rare good decision in a sea of bad choices regarding them.
"Your lover." His brows knit, and he searched my face as if trying to understand me. "You never get along with your exes, though, do you?"
"Yes, I do with Jocelyn. He was good to me, and we stayed friends."
"How long were you together?" I could hear him hoping it hadn't been long, trying not to let himself get jealous. There I could help him.
"Three weeks. He had work, and I was..." I stopped. I had no real excuse. The breakup had happened because of Jocelyn's leaving. I'd been open to getting back together when he returned, and he'd been very open to the fact that he wasn't looking for something long term or committed. He'd been fine with the relationship, enjoyed going to bed with me, but he'd always been very casual and relaxed about that sort of thing.
I was a man who wore his emotions on his sleeve and fell hard and fast, but Jocelyn was so clearly casual about it, so openly relaxed and friendly but emphatically NOT in love with me that I had, for once, actually managed to more-or-less guard my heart.
By the time he'd returned, it was nearly six months of dating other men, and we'd been able to actually be friends and stay friends.
"Why'd you stop seeing him?" Robert sat down. He was beginning to accept it, and more curious now than dreading.
"He had to go somewhere for work. I liked him, but he never loved me. He didn't break my heart, and he was always kind to me. Then when he came back, we stayed friends. I like him a lot. He's...a good person." I tried to think of other words to describe him, but those rang so true to me. Jocelyn was simply a good person.
Robert's frown was back. "He didn't love you? Why not?"
"Most people don't, you know," I said softly, fiddling with an edge of the sheet, turning it back and forth, and smoothing the stitching. I didn't look at him now. "He was just honest enough not to pretend, not to make me think it was going to be More or Forever." (I said the words with definite capitalization.)
Robert opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to ask another question. Then he closed it again, and gave me a small smile. "Thank you for being honest with me." He moved toward me, the intended embrace clear in his posture.
"Of course." I moved into his arms easily, smiling.
"And I love you," he said in a low growl, hugging me tight.
"That's enough for me," I said, pressing my face against his shirt.
"If he didn't have the good sense..." grumbled Robert.
It made me smile, his being indignant on my behalf. He'd accepted it now, and didn't seem at all worried anymore. Good. I liked it when he trusted me.
It made me marvel that we could still be so happy together. The first flush of desire had faded. I still loved having sex with him, but the point was we weren't both thinking of it most of the time now. We shared a life together, and it was built on many things.
Part of me was constantly amazed that anyone could stand me, could want me for anything other than my body.
I wasn't past my prime, not yet, but it used to worry me constantly because that was all I had going for me to attract men. I had thought there was nothing else about me anyone could possibly appreciate, such as a sense of humor or kindness. Robert did: he appreciated all the things. Even when there was something he didn't understand, he was accepting.
And for Robert, being open-minded was a pretty big deal. His background, training, and natural bent made it easier for him to judge. That he could accept me for who I was, even when he didn't understand — well, it meant so much to me. He would never go into raptures over the latest wallpaper print, but he didn't think I was an idiot if I did so. Even when I was over the top in my zeal, all he would sometimes do was smile, shake his head, and kiss me on the forehead indulgently. He took me seriously: he just couldn't find meaning in every single thing I did. That was fine, I couldn't for him either; we accepted each other and kept finding new ways to grow together as a couple.
I no longer felt that if I grew a bit older, he wouldn't love me anymore. He did; he loved me. It was enough, all I'd ever wanted, really. The worry about growing older must've still lingered in my head, though, because that was what the Terrible Voice in my nightmares most often tempted me with: eternal youth.
Now, I really didn't think there was anything in the universe that could give me eternal youth, and I was not about to make a deal with some evil voice tormenting my sleep, even if it was possible — that just screams faerie tale villain, doesn't it? — but the fact that it knew one of the things I most wanted really frightened me, right down to my marrow.
Robert held me now, and I thought of Jocelyn, waiting to rescue me, and Robert not leaving my side until it was long gone, this thing, whatever it was.
I trusted Jocelyn, but I thought perhaps Robert and I had better not have sex tonight. Jocelyn was bound to notice some of it, if he had to keep a close watch on me.
I do love Jocelyn, but there are a few things I prefer to keep private, and Robert is one of them. He's not the only one with a bit of a jealous streak, you know.
#
I can make you stay young forever. Beautiful beyond your wildest dreams. Every man will desire you... You can have your pick. Every man you could ever want will want you.
The silky, evil voice didn't know me as well as it thought it did; I only wanted Robert, now and forever. "No thank you," I replied, my voice trembling even in the dream.
It was a dream, I knew it was a dream: and yet it was more than a dream. That was so frightening, now that I knew. And I had been terrified even before that.
"There must be something you want." Fingers cold as ice — or something like fingers — trailed along the back of my neck. I couldn't suppress a shudder of revulsion. The voice seemed strong now, clearer.
"Riches, perhaps? Finery?"
"I'm fine enough already," I said, indignant, even here and now, with the thought that someone would think my fashion sense lacking. If there was one thing I didn't lack...!
It gave a soft, evil chuckle. "Tell me, then. What do you want."
I found myself hesitating. What did I want most of all? I was happy. I had a good life. I thought of Robert, of his father, whose life had been winding down closer to the ragged edges lately. He didn't have much longer to live. Oh, if he could stay alive longer, for Robert's sake, but a happy sort of alive, not dragging along in pain.
"I wish—"
I cut myself short. No. Neither of them would ever forgive me for asking such a thing, for helping this creature, no matter the reward.
"Ah!" He pounced. "There is something, I knew it!"
He seemed more distinct than ever. I could almost see a form. Was this because I now knew it was something real, not just a dream? Or was just talking to it giving it power?
I shuddered, stepped back. Wherever we were, it was very dark. I couldn't see its face.
"Please let me go," I said. "I don't have anything for you. I c-can't help you."
His hand reached out, touched my cheek like a caress. So cold. His fingers were so cold! He gave a low chuckle, a sound rather like my voice, somehow. "In fact, I think you already have."
I was shivering so hard I couldn't speak, my teeth clacking together both from the cold, and from sheer terror.
Leave me alone, leave me alone, I pleaded. But now he was speaking, and my words were only thoughts. When we'd started the conversation, it was the other way around. I was stronger...but not now.
Robert! I called in silent despair, and then, squeezing my eyes shut, so that one cold tear was forced out, I called, Jocelyn!
And Jocelyn heard me.
There was a rushing sound, a tearing sound, a sound like the sky rending itself in two.
"No!" screamed my tormentor, in a voice very like my own — more like it with every word he spoke. He looked around wildly to the sky that was suddenly bright, with a jagged line through it. We stood in some barren wilderness without trees or grass or buildings of any kind. A great wind swept up, and I had to shield my face. I was shivering hard, and fell to my knees.
"No!" said That Voice, which was now my voice, exactly mine. I peeked out between my fingers just in time to see someone who looked exactly like me yanked up from the ground, screaming, toward the jagged white line.
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.
He disappeared, up into the crack, and it sealed shut with a loud hiss.
There was silence, darkness, stillness. I was entirely alone in the dark. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.
I opened it again in a silent scream.
Robert! Someone help me!