Chapter Eleven: Marked: Nicolette
NICOLETTE lay in the motel double bed, watching the shadows playing across the rough ceiling. In her imagination, she made the shadows into various fantastical shapes, turning an indistinct grey blob with a yellow highlight into a dragon, several random intersecting lines into a unicorn head. With a low monotonous hum, the air conditioner made the light privacy curtains sway, causing the shadow-shapes to transmogrify into an ever-changing menagerie of fantastical forms. She listened to the hum of the machine, waiting for sleep to overtake her but finding it elusive as she tried to make sense of the evening.
She had expected that her return to Half Moon Bay would be rocky, but she never could have predicted the highs and lows. Mentally she began ticking off events since she’d returned: her lonely arrival and her first conversation with Daniel’s mother -- a definite low; landing the job at Harry’s -- a middling high; her conversation with Daniel earlier that night -- she didn’t think she’d feel any lower after speaking with Ramona, but her meeting with Daniel had proven her wrong. It had all been capped off by her coffee ‘date’ with Shelly and Dane. They had both been surprisingly understanding, wiling to listen to her tearful monolog without being the slightest bit critical. It felt good to find friends after almost two weeks struggling in isolation. She hadn’t realized how much she missed having peer group support.
She sighed as she reflected that high school hadn’t been kind to her friendships, what with her mother working so hard to sabotage them coupled with Nicolette’s reliance on the Hayes family for her high school social contact. Most of her (non-Daniel) friends had long since left Half Moon Bay, seeking careers and lives elsewhere. Of course, she hadn’t tried too hard to look up any of the old high school crowd for fear of running into Daniel before she was ready, fearing that it would play out...well...exactly how it had played out.
She closed her left eye, creating an ephemeral turtle shadow as she replayed their chance meeting earlier that evening; it struck her, not for the first time, that he had been completely shocked to see her, as if he hadn’t expected to run into her. Nicolette suspected that Ramona hadn’t mentioned to Daniel that she’d called the house looking for him; neither Dane nor Shelly had professed hearing anything from Daniel that would suggest he knew she was back. Her brow furrowed as she tried to puzzle that out; had Ramona held back the knowledge that Nikki had returned? If so, why? Did she really think Nicolette would just...disappear if she was ignored? Unless something had changed, Nikki didn’t think that was Ramona's style...like, at all. She had specifically warned Nikki that her presence was unwelcome in the family and had strongly suggested that it would be better if she left Daniel alone. It’s not like she had been seeking him out after that conversation!
...though she ruefully forced herself to acknowledge that living in a small community like Half Moon Bay while working at Coffee Beach and Harry’s weren’t exactly jobs that minimized her likelihood of running into him. She squinted at the shadow-snake wriggling across the ceiling as she wondered if perhaps she might have been subconsciously undermining her own efforts at anonymity. Well, if that was the case, her subconscious sure got its way!
She shook her head, abandoning the line of thought. At least dinner and coffee with Dane and Shelly had been pleasant. They’d clearly been curious about her, seeming genuinely surprised to find that the real Nikki wasn’t frothing at the lips crazy. Seven years... She couldn’t help but wonder about Daniel and what he’d been doing in the intervening years. She had been shocked at the level of vitriol and rage that he’d directed at her in their brief encounter. She had expected indifference, or maybe diffident courtesy, but after so long to encounter that...
How the heck do I deal with that?!, she thought despairingly, How on Earth does one bridge the gap with such hatred?
Nicolette blinked and the ceiling menagerie disappeared, returning to blobs of shifting light and shadow. She turned on her side, exhausted, though sleep continued to escape her; her mind just wouldn’t spin down, instead replaying her evening and searching obsessively, sifting through all the nuances for guidance.
He clearly still had strong feelings, though if he hated her, it didn’t seem like there was much she could do about it, especially if Ramona was working against her...and yet...and yet... if Ramona wasn’t willing to tell Daniel that Nikki was back, that had to indicate something.
...didn’t it?
She closed her eyes, focusing on the drone of the air conditioner as it ran, listening to late night traffic as it sporadically rushed past on the 1. The motel was right off of the highway with all the rooms facing into the inner parking courtyard. When she’d checked in, she had hoped to get a room facing the ocean with the dim hope that she’d be able to hear the surf despite being almost half a mile from the beach. When she’d arrived, she’d found that her memory had been confused; the only rooms available had faced suburban streets on the north or south end of the building -- the motel didn’t offer rooms facing the ocean.
She huddled more deeply into her blankets as voices crossed in front of her window. She smiled, enjoying the feelings of privacy and security as the voices faded down the slightly echoey walkway facing the parking lot. It had been a long time since she’d felt anything like this kind of physical safety. Her whole life had seemed like one long pinball game of bad living conditions as she careened from one bad situation to the next; crazy parents, creepy roommates, abusive SO’s.
Prison.
She had never really lived alone before, and for the moment, she reveled in it -- the knowledge that she could sleep without worrying about what circumstances she might awaken to. Nicolette lifted her head and checked on the desk that she’d pulled away from the wall and set across the door, followed by the heavy stuffed chair for peace of mind.
My furniture, my door!, she thought with a satisfied smile as her head settled back to the pillow. Her barricade wouldn’t keep out someone determined to enter, but that wasn’t really what she was worried about. The sense of control she had over her environment, so rarely felt throughout her life...was intoxicating. This shabby hotel room seemed like paradise when contrasted with most of the other places she’d lived over the last seven years. Most of the time, it had felt like the space she occupied was never fully her own, that the privilege of occupying that space came at a price, a price paid through compromise. The compromises she’d made to survive, to forestall her return to Half Moon Bay, had been small at first, but once she’d made her first compromise, subsequent compromises were that much easier to make. It had started with her first flat after Francesca had kicked her out, fearing Nicolette’s mother. She had moved in with a friend of Francesca’s boyfriend -- Robert -- until she could get a job. Robert, who had liked to watch her sleep. Robert, with the criminal record and seedy connections. It beat having to go home, she’d reasoned, and it wasn’t like he was really doing anything, and it was only a couple weeks. From there, her decisions, one leading to the next had seemed like a logical progression of innocence lost.
She shook the memories off as she thumbed the promise ring, trying to push Robert and those terrible memories out of her mind and replace them with a mental image of Daniel, imagining him as he was now on Sunset Rock, the setting sun giving his skin a radiant glow that made her fingers itch to touch him. She hugged the pillow harder, pretending it was Daniel as he sat next to her on Sunset Rock, always insisting on taking the uneven sloped part that unfailingly put his leg to sleep, making his other leg ache. He had always given her his jacket, pretending that he didn’t need it, his desire to start wearing extra layers giving the lie to his unabashed machismo, even when they both knew it was thin as tissue paper. She loved him for it, though, despite the extra layers making him look like that little kid from the Christmas movie...Ralphie? She remembered laughing uproariously as the poor over bundled kid fell in the snow and couldn’t get back to his feet. The juxtaposition of Ralphie and Daniel in his extra layers could still
make her laugh. He’d laughed with her when she finally explained the joke.
Sunset Rock...she hadn’t thought about that in years. Mostly, she avoided the memories because they were too filled with longing and loss to bear. After she’d been in prison, the loss of freedom had added another dimension of suffering. But now she was here, in Half Moon Bay...
She could clearly remember one hazy evening as they watched the sun set, listening to the surf, mostly just sitting in silence as the sun set the water on fire. She wondered if Daniel ever thought of it, or if he’d ever visited it after she’d left, at the beach you had to go left to get to the rock, past all the tourists and the sound of the crashing waves, the sand...
....felt chilly under her feet as she walked along the darkened beach. She followed the deep set of footprints as they tracked across the sand, moving north toward the Ritz, the four star hotel perched over the opposite end of the beach from Sunset Rock. She didn’t like walking barefoot on the North Coast sand -- it always felt pebbly and chilly, though she did like the way it crunched as she walked. Distantly, she heard the rhythmic rushing of the waves, the sound strangely muted and indistinct. She walked along the beach, following the deep depressions. It never occurred to her to wonder where the tracks were leading, she just felt an odd compulsion to catch up to (Daniel!) whomever had made them. She paused as a feeling of expectancy settled over the hushed landscape. She felt as though monumental events were taking place just out of hearing, like a subaudible hum felt through the chilly sand, as if she might find a river of electric current just under the surface if she dug too far with her toes.
She resumed walking, continuing until a glint of reflected light in the sand brought her to a reluctant stop, her curiosity piqued. There were several reflective dots in a line. She knelt for a closer look, tentatively reaching out with her right hand to touch one of the larger reflections. The sand was damp, her fingertips coming away stained black in the faint light from the hotel perched on the cliff. She peered at her fingers in the uncertain light, realizing with consternation that her first instinct had been right -- it was blood. She wiped her cooling fingertips in the sand, cleansing them in the grit. Worry filled her along with a nameless fear. Someone (Daniel!) was in trouble; she didn’t know what she could do to help, but she was determined not to stand idle. She stood, beginning to jog along the cliff face, grateful the sand became firmer as the ground dipped, bringing the tide lines further up the beach toward the vertical rocky cliffs to her right.
Nicolette experienced a moment of sudden lucidity, realizing without a doubt that she was dreaming. Relief filled her as she realized that she could leave this unpleasant and menacing dream any time she wanted.
Searing pain tore across the skin of her forehead. She screamed, her knees buckling in shock as she clapped her hands over the burning skin, expecting to find a red hot piece of steel sinking into the bones of her skull, expecting to feel the bone popping from the heat. Distantly, she was surprised when her fingers found wind-cooled skin and nothing else. She sat hunched over her knees as the pain increased for a beat longer, then slowly began to subside, leaving faint electric tingles dancing over the pained area.
As the fear subsided, she panted, sensing the approach of some inexplicable rubicon that she had to cross before it was too late. Her dream awareness was quickly sublimated by this urgency, urgency which quickly resuscitated her fear. She struggled to her feet and began running, moving away from the cliff to the damper, firmer sand in an effort to go faster. Ahead of her, she saw the promontory underneath the hotel; huge, ancient stone pilings reaching up from the beach to support the cliff face, to keep the gradual decay of the soft shale from spreading toward the foundation of the hotel. Her urgency elided with almost certain knowledge that Daniel was ahead of her and in dire trouble.
In the darkness of the rocky cliff face, she saw a glimmer in the shadows, something metallic catching the light as it moved. A quick glance at the sand showed more blood, more foot steps. She followed the trail right up to the rocks, pausing at the base of the pillared cliffs as she began looking for a way up, her panic rising.
She gasped in fear and startlement as a hoarse voice rose up out of the darkness, “Who... What are you doing here? You were not summoned.”
Nicolette stared into the deep shadows, realizing there was a man reclining amongst the rocks, a sword clutched in his right hand.
“Summoned? I...was in the motel, I woke up here on this beach. I followed Daniel's footsteps and the blood trail. It just seemed...incredibly important that I get here before it...it was too late. I thought it might be Daniel's blood...”
She shook her head in confusion, her voice trailing off.
He studied her thoughtfully, then breathed in, awe coloring his words, “You share a true love bond! I’ve only heard such a thing was possible, but...” His voice drifted off as he was momentarily lost in thought.
“Yes, I see! The bond! It seems I’ve unintentionally marked you as well, my dear -- I wish I’d realized your connection sooner!” He sighed, as he began sagging back, looking as though he was succumbing to his exhaustion, “I’m sorry for dragging you into this...but perhaps the both of you will be greater for it. This is good news, I think, though I doubt you’ll think so.”
She picked her way over the sand and rocks and knelt by his side at his gesture, drawing a sharp breath as she saw the blood soaking his green and white shirt.
He raised his hand, cupping her cheek reassuringly. His hand on her cheek prevented her from flinching away, his hand surprisingly strong despite his injuries. He lightly touched her forehead with a bloody, sand gritted fingertip.
Nicolette jerked awake, screaming, her hands clamped over her forehead just over the bridge of her nose. She sat up in the motel bed as the blankets spilled away from her, panting with fear and terrible burning agony...though the pain quickly faded. Within moments, it felt like a very mild sunburn...and even that faded as she awakened further.
“What the hell was that?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
She realized she was practically yelling into he darkened hotel room and forced herself to calm down.
She sat for several moments longer, hands clamped over the tingling patch of skin, trying to remember the dream. As the panic subsided, she glanced at the red numbers on the cheap digital clock by the bed: 03:34.
Nicolette swore under her breath as she realized that she needed to be at Coffee Beach by 5 -- and there was little hope that she’d be able to get back to sleep by the time the alarm rang at 04:15.
With a groan, she extricated herself from sweat-soaked sheets and headed to the shower, forcibly pushing thoughts of scary dreams from her mind. She paused by the mirror, but aside from a faint pinkness which was a little larger than a quarter, there was no other indication anything untoward had happened.
She breathed a long sigh of relief before turning to step into the shower.
It was just a stress-induced dream, she told herself.
But the vague soreness on her forehead troubled her for a long time afterward.
Years, as it turned out.
History