Stolen Dreams

by Christine Amsden

  18

  FIRELIGHT DANCES ACROSS EVAN’S FACE AS he hovers over me. We are skin to skin, no space between us at all, but we are not yet one. That happens in the next instant when he drives himself into me, kissing me even as he pushes past the barrier of my inexperience. I don’t feel the pain, if there should be any, only the euphoric sensations of the kiss magnified by our intimate joining. Tears spill unchecked from my eyes. This is what I have dreamed about. It is what I have wanted for so long. I feel complete for the first time in my life. With Evan I am safe, warm, loved, and deeply, spiritually aroused.

  “You’re mine,” Evan says. “Always and forever. Mine.”

  This isn’t right. I try to back away from the scene I vaguely recognize as a dream. Abigail told me I could control my dreams with practice. I begin now, forcing myself away from my own surrender.

  I don’t love him, I think. It won’t come to this.

  The world goes black. Once again, there almost seem to be things behind the blackness, terrible things held back by the dream catcher. It only lets pleasant dreams through, so why the dream about Evan?

  I begin to return to his bedroom, but yank myself away. Okay, so maybe it isn’t exactly horrible to contemplate, but it really, really can’t happen.

  Blackness. Nothing. Void. It is as if there is nothing inside me but Evan.

  No, there was Kaitlin. I dreamed of Kaitlin. I can go back to her.

  I return to her side in the hospital and again experience the moment of joy when the baby slides into the world. It is still a boy, and he is still called Jay. But when I try to follow the dream, to find out what happens next, everything once again goes black.

  * * *

  When I woke, I almost chose not to record the dream again. I wanted to believe that Evan was somehow planting these ideas in my head, but last night I had slept under my own dream catcher, not his. If that wasn’t enough to convince me, his humiliating demonstration of my ability to fight off even intense mind magic remained fresh in my mind.

  He would never see this journal, I swore. No one would. But I wrote in it, dutifully describing as many details as I could remember. Then I slammed it shut and shoved it in my pillowcase, simultaneously trying to slam shut the door to the memory of the previous night.

  By the time I trudged out to breakfast, Madison was already awake, finishing a cup of coffee. That was surprising, since I didn’t expect her up before noon. Not only was she awake, but she was ready to leave.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To work, if I still have a job. Do you think being held hostage by your ex-fiancé is a good excuse for a no-show/no-call?”

  “Don’t you think you should stay home today?” I asked.

  She closed her eyes, and one hand flew to her abdomen, resting there for a minute that looked like pure torture. “I think the best thing to do is move on with my life.”

  I thought the rest of her life could just as easily begin on Monday, but before I had a chance to say so, the doorbell rang.

  I froze, knowing who it would be, and not wanting to see him. Madison didn’t have the same foresight, so she just cast me a strange sideways glance before going to open the door herself.

  The next second she tried to slam it shut, but an arm caught it, and Evan strode inside. He looked clean and fresh, but I noticed he still wore the same clothes he had worn the day before.

  “What are you doing here?” Madison asked, backing away.

  “It’s okay, Madison,” I said. It wasn’t, but I couldn’t have her thinking he was there to hurt me. “He and I are working on something together.”

  Her mouth fell open slightly, and though she spoke to me, she didn’t take her eyes off of the tall man silently stalking past her into the kitchen. “With him? Didn’t he kidnap you the other day?”

  “He promised not to do it again unless he really needed to.” I tried to smile, but the pallor of Madison’s face stopped me.

  “I have to go,” she said.

  “Where?” Evan asked.

  “To work.” She retreated into the living room to grab her purse, but when she tried to get past Evan again, he blocked her. “What?”

  “Take this.” He handed her a crystal that looked vaguely familiar. He had given me similar crystals to help keep in touch.

  Madison didn’t take it. “What is it?”

  “It’s a way to get in touch with me if you need me.”

  She shook her head. “One, I don’t need you. Two, have you ever heard of a phone?”

  “Phones don’t make automatic calls if you’re in distress. This will.”

  Madison still didn’t take the crystal. Her gaze shifted to me, imploring me to help.

  “Take it,” I said. “Things are pretty dangerous right now.”

  Sighing, she took the crystal.

  “I am sorry,” Evan said, “for what I did in November.”

  “I’m just sorry we learned the truth.” With that, she made her way out the front door.

  “That could have gone better,” Evan said as soon as it had closed.

  “No, I don’t think it could have.”

  Evan fixed his gaze on me. “Do you have a plan for today?”

  The investigation, right. I had more than half expected him to make a far more personal comment, but today he looked to be all business. Good, because I needed to keep this on a professional level if I was going to make any headway.

  “Yeah,” I said, “let’s go talk to Alexander.”

  * * *

  I had trouble picturing Alexander as a murderer, despite my difficulties with him. Granted, I didn’t know him all that well. I’m not sure anyone did. Maybe his first wife had, but she had died ten years earlier, back when his movement was in its infancy.

  Evan had no such reservations, but I’m not sure which had him more upset: Alexander’s attempt to arrest him, or Alexander’s attempt to marry me. Either way, I figured if I looked up the word “biased” in the dictionary, I’d find Evan’s picture nearby.

  We spent most of the short drive from my house to the hotel arguing over whether or not Evan would go inside with me. I didn’t want him there, and in fact, I didn’t want him anywhere near the hotel. The last thing I needed was for anyone to realize we were working together. If there really was another killer out there, aside from Victor, then Evan’s more direct approach would put him or her on alert.

  By the time we reached the hotel, we had reached a compromise of sorts. He wouldn’t go in with me, but I would take one of his crystals and he would wait in the parking lot, thirty seconds away if I needed him.

  “Fine,” I said as I slammed my way out of his car, “but if anyone sees us together, you can try to explain what we’re doing.”

  No sooner had I said this then Tyler Lake stepped out of the hotel’s front entrance, squinting against the sunlight. He held up a hand to shade his eyes, then turned left, heading directly for us. He stopped suddenly when he spotted us.

  “Worked out a convincing story yet?” I asked Evan in a low tone.

  “Cassie?” Tyler looked between me and Evan, who had just stepped out of the driver’s seat and was hanging nonchalantly against the side of the car. “What are you doing together?”

  I studied Tyler for a long time before deciding how to answer. He wasn’t a friend, but we had talked a few times back in September and October, when I had been staying at Alexander’s compound. He had struck me as fair and open minded, and he had been a natural listener. Maybe it was just the empathy. With a gift like that, it would be hard to be mean or cause anyone emotional harm. It should have been an asset in his recent attempt to negotiate peace, but it may also have worked against him. He looked twenty years older; maybe feeling intense hatred from both sides of a feud could do that to a man.

  He might understand, if I just told him the truth. It wasn’t something I wanted to do, but of all the people to walk out that front door and see me with Evan, he was the worst. He would know if I lied, and he w
ould tell Alexander.

  “We’re here to talk to Alexander,” Evan said from behind me.

  “Cassie?” Tyler asked again, his eyes fixed on me now.

  I licked my lips. “It’s no big deal.”

  “You’re lying.”

  Of course I was. “Look, Evan has a theory that his father didn’t kill mine.”

  “And you believe him?” Tyler’s eyes flew to Evan.

  “I believe in being thorough. And Evan’s promised to turn his father in if I get to the bottom of this.”

  “You can’t trust him,” Tyler said. “There were a dozen witnesses to your father’s death. He’s playing some kind of game with you.”

  I took a few steps forward and laid a hand on Tyler’s forearm. “Please, Tyler. I don’t know if I believe any of this or not, but it’s a chance for justice, and maybe even peace. I owe my father that.”

  “I’m going to have to tell Alexander about this,” Tyler said.

  “I know. Can you wait half an hour, though? Please.”

  Tyler closed his eyes and nodded, once. “Fine, you have thirty minutes, but I’m serious when I say don’t trust that man. He’s your enemy.”

  I glanced at my enemy over my shoulder, taking in the way the early morning sunlight slanted across his very short hair. He didn’t defend himself, or interfere in our conversation, but he did give Tyler a look of unmistakable contempt.

  “Thank you,” I said to Tyler, before heading into the hotel to confront Alexander DuPris one more time.

  * * *

  Alexander was staying in the same suite he had occupied during the week leading up to the conclave. It was a one-bedroom suite with a separate living room where he could do business. Judging from the files strewn across the desk and coffee table, he was doing a lot of business from Eagle Rock. He had his laptop open when I arrived, just finishing a video conference with his inner council, and before I had a chance to tell him why I was there, his phone rang.

  He looked at the caller ID. “I have to take this.”

  “No problem, should I come back later?” I asked.

  “No.” Just the one word, and then he was on the phone so I couldn’t argue further.

  Oh well, I thought as he disappeared into his attached bedroom for privacy. This interruption would give me a chance to snoop. Not that I thought someone as intelligent as Alexander would leave anything incriminating lying around, but you never know.

  I first scanned the files scattered on the coffee table, but none of them were very interesting, just campaign progress reports and projections. It looked like he might be planning to oversee some local elections soon.

  I went to the desk next, but before I had a chance to scan the folders I noticed he had not logged out of his e-mail program. Quickly checking to see that the bedroom door remained firmly shut, I sat at the desk and started paging through more than a hundred daily messages until I saw one that caught my attention. It had been sent by my father on February 15th, less than an hour before he died.

  Heart hammering, I clicked on the message:

  I want you to know that I blame you for what happened last night. I didn’t mean for that old woman to die, I just wanted to warn her–no, all of them–to leave my daughter alone. Which I wouldn’t have had to do if you hadn’t announced to the world that she was a drained woman BEFORE you secured Evan’s arrest.

  Edward

  That was it. I read it twice, trying to find some hidden or deeper meaning, but that was all he had to say. These were not the words of a man who knew they might be his last.

  “Cassie.”

  I jumped, knocking the desk chair backward in my haste to get away from the computer. I ended up tripping over it and sprawling gracelessly on my hands and knees.

  “Are you all right?” Alexander crouched by my side, pushing the chair well away and giving me an arm up.

  “I’m fine.” I got to my feet and took several steps away from the older man.

  “What were you doing at my computer?” Alexander asked.

  Ah. Well. Hm.

  “I see.” He probably did.

  “I was looking for an e-mail from my Uncle John,” I said with sudden inspiration. “Yesterday, he threatened to hurt my family if I didn’t marry you.”

  Alexander frowned. “Threaten? I did wonder what he had in mind when he said he could convince you.”

  “He was wrong,” I said. “He has no hold over me or my family. He only thinks he does.”

  “He seemed pretty sure when we spoke on the phone.”

  “He was wrong,” I said again, more firmly this time. “So you may as well leave town, unless you’re going to try some more mind mojo on me.”

  He laughed, a single, sharp burst. “Mind mojo, huh? That hasn’t been working for anyone else, so why would I try it?”

  “You did try it, the night before I left your compound.”

  “I was just hoping to make you more open to suggestion. Believe me, I need your full cooperation on this, or it won’t work.”

  “It won’t?” Strange. Nobody else felt that way.

  “It won’t. I travel around the country, and you won’t always be by my side. What happens if I allow some space to grow between us, and you start publicly denouncing me? I suppose I could take you with me everywhere, and watch your every move, but that sounds utterly exhausting. I’m a busy man and I can’t baby-sit a mind slave.”

  Was he telling the truth, or was this another game?

  “I still want you by my side,” Alexander said. “It’s a good idea for both of us, regardless of your uncle’s threats. If you like, I can make sure he doesn’t benefit from the alliance.”

  “She can’t marry you,” said a low voice from behind me. I whirled to see Evan standing there, his glowering eyes fixed on Alexander.

  “Why not?” Alexander asked.

  “Don’t say it,” I said.

  “She’s going to marry me.” He’d said it.

  Alexander’s eyes snapped back to me. “Is this true?”

  “No.” I shook my head vehemently. “No.”

  “I bet her that she’s still in love with me,” Evan said. “If she is, according to our local truth teller, then she’ll marry me.”

  I had never seen utter shock on Alexander’s face before, but there was no other way to describe his expression at that moment. His mouth formed a perfect O and each eye became a smaller o.

  “It’s not what it sounds like,” I said, glaring at Evan. “I’m not in love with him, obviously. And as soon as the truth teller can verify it, I’ll get my magic back.”

  Alexander laughed again, but this time the sound was hollow. His eyes shut tightly, and he shook his head. “Oh, Cassie, of course you’re still in love with him. Why else do you think you warned him off last fall when I was going to arrest him?”

  “I didn’t–”

  “Don’t deny it,” Alexander said. “We both know it’s true, and that it’s a big part of the reason I didn’t give much more than lip service to the effort to arrest Evan afterward. If you don’t want it, my dear, far be it from me to force it on you.”

  It was my turn to shake my head. “It might have made your decision easier. Helped your conscience. But you backed away for political reasons, and would have done so regardless.”

  He didn’t confirm or deny. He just shook his head, sending away the last of his shock and disappointment. “Apparently, there’s nothing left for me to do here now.”

  “What?” I said.

  “It sounds like you and Evan have worked out a resolution to the conflict. One way or the other.”

  “I–” I hadn’t been thinking in terms of ending the conflict, and judging from the look on Evan’s face, neither had he. I wasn’t even convinced that it would work, not now that my father had died at his father’s hands. The only thing that would truly put an end to the conflict would be discovering that someone else was responsible. Evan and Matthew had offered up Alexander as a suspect, but I doubted his
culpability the more I spoke to him. It could be his charisma at play; I would definitely need to get some distance and think, but the pieces weren’t adding up.

  “So you’re just going to leave?” I asked.

  “I came for the funeral, believe it or not,” Alexander said. “I stayed because your uncle thought I could still win you, and that he could help influence you.”

  It couldn’t be that easy. I looked helplessly at Evan, whose narrowed eyes were still fixed on his nemesis.

  “You’ll excuse me if I don’t let my guard down,” Evan said. He strode forward and put a possessive arm around me.

  “I would expect nothing less of you,” Alexander said. “Good luck.”

  Evan didn’t acknowledge the platitude. “Is there anything else you need to do here, Cassie?”

  “No.”

  “Great.” Tightening his grip around my waist, Evan steered me out the door.

  19

  I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU TOLD HIM,” I said when we were back in Evan’s car. He hadn’t told me where we were going, and I hadn’t asked. I had other things on my mind, such as Evan’s intrusion, his pronouncement, his claiming, and worst of all–Alexander’s acceptance of that claim.

  “Seemed to me to go pretty well,” Evan said. “He’s leaving.”

  “I thought the point was to figure out if he helped kill my father.”

  “Do you think he did?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he left too easily.” I shrugged. “Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he made a play for me and is now bowing out gracefully. I was so on-edge when he first proposed that I could easily have read the situation wrong. I was numb from fending off dozens of attacks already. You have no idea.”

  “Or maybe,” Evan said, “he’s going to try something and is only lulling us into a false sense of security.”

  Maybe. I couldn’t pretend to understand how Alexander’s mind worked.

  “You had no right to barge in there like that,” I said, deciding to shift the subject. “I told you to wait in the car.”

  “You were hurt.”