Stolen Dreams

by Christine Amsden

  I’d squeezed my hand? Was it possible that Victor was having trouble holding the binding, either because he was too far away or too distracted?

  Working frantically with that small range of motion, I jerked and twisted until I freed an entire arm. Then I fumbled for the fire resistance potion at the back of my belt, uncorking it and bringing it to my lips as flames licked my legs.

  It isn’t easy to drink when your teeth are clamped tightly together. I pried my lips apart with one finger, inserted the tip of the tiny bottle, then tipped it in through tiny gaps in my teeth. The process seemed to take an age but finally, though the fire still raged around me, it stopped baking my skin. It baked off clothes and hair, but I remained whole and intact.

  I still couldn’t move most of my body but I was safer than I had been, assuming someone could get to me before the smoke did.

  That was how Evan found me: My body still mostly frozen, my hair and clothes burned away, and my lungs attempting to cough away the invading smoke.

  I had a lot of rage stored up for him at that moment, not the least of which was, paradoxically, his inability to be there for me when I needed him. Did I want him to stop protecting me or didn’t I? The answer only seemed obvious when I wasn’t frozen in place at the mercy of a raging fire.

  There were a lot of things I wanted to say to Evan, most of them hateful, and most of them having more to do with his father than him. So it was probably a good thing that he had a sleep spell at the ready, and that he used it on me before I had a chance to say a word. The spell would allow him to stabilize my body for healing while I had a chance to stabilize my emotions.

  24

  I WOKE TO BRIGHT AFTERNOON SUNLIGHT ARCING in through enormous bay windows. Thick green drapes had been pulled back, illuminating Evan’s master bedroom in a riot of natural greens that made it look a bit like a forest. I sat up, propping a few soft pillows behind my back, and spread my hands across the white-rose-patterned comforter.

  White-rose-patterned…?

  This time, my sense of déjà vu had the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. This wasn’t quite like standing in a delivery room, finding out I had correctly guessed a baby’s gender (a 50/50 proposition, after all), or even that I had guessed his name (a variation of his father’s). This was the comforter I had seen in my dream. That was the carpeting. The bedposts. The armoire. Everything. I had dreamed the details to perfection, but how could I have? Had I seen the room before, and not remembered? Had someone planted a vision inside my head?

  Evan sat in a dark green armchair by a blazing fire set in a stone fireplace, his feet propped on a matching ottoman. His eyes flickered my way when I woke, but he didn’t immediately acknowledge my return to the land of the waking.

  He still had supplies strewn around the edges of his casting circle. I felt a little stiff and tired, but otherwise whole. My hair had even grown back. I knew he had worked a healing while I’d slept; I also knew that between fighting and healing, he would be tired. Still, we needed to talk.

  “Evan?”

  His head snapped around, then he visibly relaxed. “You’re awake.”

  “Yeah.” I kept looking around the room, letting my sense of unease grow as I noticed the patterns on the chairs by the fireplace. I hadn’t described them in my journal, but they were the same. I knew they were.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Oh, it’s–when did you decorate this room?”

  He glanced around, frowning. “July or August. Why?”

  “I was here in June. I haven’t been in your room since.”

  “Not as far as I know. Why? You don’t like it?”

  “It’s fine. It’s nice. It’s you. You like green. I always knew green was your favorite color.” So of course my imagination had dreamed up a green room. That made sense. I might even have been able to live with that explanation, if it weren’t for the striking detail.

  Evan was still frowning. “If you don’t like it, we can change it.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I was talking about–” I suddenly realized what he was talking about. The two of us. Sharing this room. For him apparently, it was a certainty. How benevolent of him to allow me to change the décor if it wasn’t to my taste.

  …Evan leaning over me. A look of triumph in his eyes.

  “Cassie?” Evan said my name several times before I realized he was speaking. “What is going on?”

  Shake it off. Whatever was going on in my barely-remembered dreams at night, I wasn’t ready to say any of it out loud, especially not to Evan. Not when he figured so prominently in those dreams.

  “Your father nearly got me killed,” I said. From the way Evan cringed, I knew I had successfully steered the topic away from my dreams, though these wouldn’t exactly be safer waters.

  “He thought you were working with Alexander,” Evan said.

  “Did he?” I kept my voice low and calm, but only an idiot wouldn’t have detected the threat in my tone.

  “I’ve already had words with him,” Evan said.

  “I wouldn’t have stopped with words. I can’t think of enough vile things to say about him.”

  “It was an accident.”

  “You’re defending him?”

  “No! I–” Evan shook his head. “There is no defense or excuse.”

  “He didn’t even apologize, did he?”

  Evan’s hesitation said it all.

  “Don’t bother,” I said. “We have bigger problems anyway. The fire wasn’t an accident.”

  Evan strode closer to the bed. “My father didn’t start that fire.”

  “No, he didn’t.” Although that didn’t relieve him of guilt, in my opinion. “Tyler Lake did.”

  Evan’s mouth fell open slightly. “That’s difficult to believe. He’s an empath.”

  “So he says.”

  “You don’t believe him?” Evan asked.

  I thought about how much stress he had been under lately, and of the physical toll it had taken on his body. “I suppose I do. Maybe that’s why he drove off without making sure the job was done.”

  “You think he’s the one who killed your father.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yeah.”

  Evan shook his head. “It doesn’t fit. Not that I knew the man very well. Maybe no one did, since he was so quiet.”

  “I didn’t know him very well either,” I said, “but he worked for Alexander almost since the start. Maybe Alexander had something on him.”

  “We need to find him. That’s the only way we’ll get any answers.”

  I nodded. “Got any ideas on that?”

  Evan shook his head. “Alexander’s left town with all his men, including Tyler. I didn’t realize his leaving was significant at the time, but getting to him at Alexander’s compound….”

  He didn’t have to finish. I had been there, after all. The place was secure.

  “We’ll deal with him. Don’t worry. But right now, you and I need to talk.” Evan sat on the edge of the bed, something in his expression cuing me to a new change of subject, one I probably wouldn’t like.

  “What?” I asked before he could speak. I knew I sounded shrill, but he was making me nervous. Someone had just tried to kill me, his father was all wrapped up in the incident, anytime now James Blair would be in to interrogate me and decide my future, and Evan wanted to Talk. I couldn’t help capitalizing the word in my mind.

  “My grandmother made a dying wish,” Evan began. “It wasn’t much, just for us to talk. We haven’t done it.”

  “Oh, that Talk.”

  “I know you hate my father,” Evan began.

  “I’m not sure hate is a strong enough word for it.” Especially not when I had been throwing the word at so many people whose misdeeds paled in comparison. Like my father….

  …and Evan?

  “I’m not my father,” Evan said.

  “I know you
’re not.”

  “I didn’t take your magic from you,” he continued, relentlessly.

  I felt like putting my hands over my ears but decided, wisely, that doing so might be immature. Also a sign that I was hearing an uncomfortable truth.

  “Do we have to talk about this now?” I asked.

  “James is in town,” Evan said. “He offered to come over this evening to settle this wager.”

  “Oh.” I swallowed nervously.

  “I think it’s important that we have this talk before he comes over. Afterward… well, afterward things will be different.”

  “You mean it’ll all be a moot point?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Then isn’t it pretty moot right now?”

  Evan narrowed his eyes. “Why are you so nervous?”

  Good question. Why was I nervous? Why didn’t I have the smallest confidence that things would play out the way I had hoped when I took him up on the wager in the first place? It wasn’t just the dreams, and the sense of déjà vu they kept bringing. It was something more.

  I’m not my father, he had said.

  I knew it was true. I had never confused the two of them and after today, it would be that much harder to do. I’m not sure I knew what the word “hate” meant until I looked into Victor’s remorseless eyes and realized what kind of man he truly was.

  I had never felt that way about Evan. Not even in our darkest moments. Not even close.

  “Okay, we’ll talk,” I said. “You go first.”

  “All right.” He took a deep breath and plunged right in, as if he’d been preparing his speech for some time. Maybe he had. “I didn’t start school until first grade. My parents couldn’t completely bind my powers. Did I ever tell you that?”

  I shook my head.

  “I must have been a nightmare as a toddler. I was just this normal kid, wanting what I wanted and testing boundaries, except if my parents tried to put me in time out, I tried to hurt them. I did hurt my mother. She’s a witch, but not a strong one, and one day I got in under her guard. Pushed her down the stairs. I wrecked the house so many times. And as for visitors, we just didn’t have any. Sometimes my dad would take me so my mom could get some time away, but after I pushed my mom down the stairs, dad wouldn’t leave her alone with me. He never got a break.

  “I never knew why at the time. I-um, I’ve learned a few things since I found out the truth, and I get it now. It’s not just that I was strong. There are ways to handle that, especially in young children who haven’t come into their full power yet. I was unnaturally strong. The extra magic didn’t fit into my small body, and it bled, for lack of a better word. My parents couldn’t bind it because it kept seeping out.”

  “I had no idea,” I whispered, but he wasn’t done yet. I’m not even sure he heard me.

  “I blame your father for the fact that I have no brothers or sisters, for casting that sterility spell, but it turns out I have part of the blame. It took your father about five years to realize what had happened to you and cast that spell. In the meantime, my parents were afraid of having other children because of what I might do.”

  “But you went to school when you were six,” I said.

  “I finally started being able to control it when I was five. I was motivated, because my parents wouldn’t let me go to kindergarten and I wanted to go so badly. They said I couldn’t, unless I could contain the magic. I worked hard.”

  I could just imagine the young Evan working so hard, and not just because he wanted to go to school and be with other children. He would have done it to please his parents. Life and circumstances may have hardened the man, but underneath that exterior was the boy who had been naturally eager to please.

  “The first day I met you,” Evan went on, “you said you didn’t have any magic, and I said you could have some of mine. Do you remember?”

  I nodded.

  “Back then, it would have been a relief to siphon off the excess.”

  “But not now?” I said.

  He shook his head. “I grew into it, and it became a part of me. When I realized how much stronger I was than the people around me, I thought this was what it had all been for. So I could protect myself and the people I love. And when you talked about becoming a deputy and helping people, you almost made me feel like I could be a superhero.”

  “Almost?”

  “Almost.” He hesitated a fraction of a second before adding, “The true hero would give it back.”

  “Would he?” I was beginning to doubt it.

  “I’m not making excuses,” Evan said. “I just wanted you to understand why it was hard for me.”

  “I understand.”

  He gave me a skeptical look.

  “I did understand, I just–” Suddenly it was time to sort out my true feelings, an idea that made me feel more exposed than if I were to strip naked. Still, he had done it. It was my turn. “Would you believe I felt embarrassed?”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re the one I shared it all with. All those years, and I told you more than I told anyone else.”

  “Oh, Cassie.” He looked like he wanted to hug me, but he didn’t.

  “It doesn’t matter.” I tried to shrug it off. “So hey, we’ve been honest with one another. Guess it’s time to call over James and get this over with.”

  “There’s just one more thing.” He stood, striding across the room to his armoire–or so I thought at first. The hairs on the back of my neck began to prickle when he stepped to the left and did something to the wall that revealed a hidden panel.

  I gasped. There was no way my mind had randomly made up a secret panel.

  Evan didn’t hear me gasp. He was staring too intently at the book he had pulled out of the secret compartment. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and headed toward the sitting area by the fireplace.

  I joined him there, but I didn’t need to read the raised gold lettering on the black leather-bound tome to know what it said. I had already read it in my dreams: Magical Transference.

  “I bought this months ago,” he said.

  “Evan?” I laid a hand on his forearm, feeling the warmth and strength there. My own pulse raced madly as I suspected what he was about to do.

  “I didn’t make the decision until more recently. It-I-we don’t have to do it all at once. That’s the slaver’s way, but it can be done more slowly. It takes longer, but causes less damage.”

  “No.” The word was out of my mouth before I realized what I was saying, but I didn’t take it back when my brain caught up.

  He acted as if he hadn’t heard me. “I figure about two hours a day will be as much as we should risk. We can adjust that later if–”

  “No,” I said more firmly this time.

  He looked at me blankly.

  “What are you doing?” I asked. “James hasn’t come yet.”

  “Ah. The bet.” He managed a small smile. “You were wondering if there was a trick you weren’t seeing.”

  “Was there?”

  “There was. I planned to transfer back your magic either way.”

  I felt numb with shock, unable to speak. He had tricked me. I had suspected a trick, but I had never imagined something like this.

  “The bet still stands, of course,” he said.

  Of course. Oh how I wanted to be angry with him. It’s how I should have felt, wasn’t it? He’d played a sneaky, underhanded trick on me to convince me to marry him.

  Yet something was wrong. I didn’t feel angry at all, not even as the shock began to dissipate. I tried to tell myself that he’d cheated, but the charge didn’t stick. After all, I only had to marry him if I was in love with him. And there was something else, something that began to fill the dark places in my heart with light and warmth, leaving me incapable of feeling anger.

  He loves me.

  Evan Blackwood truly, deeply, and irrevocably loved me. He loved me so much that he was willing to give up a piece of himself if it wo
uld make me happy. He had said the words “I love you” before, but never like this. This time he hadn’t said them at all, but I knew.

  My heart swelled and I felt tears sting my eyes. He loved me, but I wasn’t convinced I had done anything to deserve that love. No, he hadn’t told me the truth; but maybe he’d known me better than I’d known myself, because I’d reacted exactly as he’d feared. I’d hated him. Or tried to.

  But in that moment I knew how I felt about Evan. I also knew that however much I wanted magic of my own, he had just given me something far more precious. It wasn’t everything I had ever wanted, but it was the only thing I needed.

  “Are you mad at me?” Evan asked.

  “For cheating?” I teased. “You know the honorable thing would be to call it all off.”

  “Worried?” he asked.

  “Not at all.” This time I was absolutely serious.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “I don’t want your magic,” I said.

  He scowled. Not the reaction I had expected. “I told you I’m not calling off the bet.”

  “I know! I don’t want it.”

  “Don’t lie to me. I know you, remember? I’m the one you shared it all with.”

  “Yes, but–” How could I explain it to him when I still hadn’t worked through all of my own feelings?

  “Are you afraid of me or something?”

  “What? No.”

  “Then you hate me? You hate me so much you’d give up the thing you want more than anything else, rather than marry me?”

  “No. That’s not what I meant.”

  “I can’t believe this.” Evan stood and began pacing.

  “I don’t want it. Really.”

  He stopped pacing to kneel in front of me. He took my chin between his fingers, forcing me to look at him. “Look me in the eyes and say that.”

  “I–” I couldn’t. He was right. I was giving up a dream.

  “Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?”

  “Yes.” The simple truth wasn’t so simple any longer though, and I tried to dig deep within myself for a better answer. He deserved it.

  “Are you afraid of being with me?”

  “No!” I placed a hand on his forearm, hoping to convey through touch the vehemence that mere words couldn’t manage.