Stolen Dreams

by Christine Amsden

  “What if I never do?” I asked. “I don’t even remember my dreams right now.”

  “It’s possible, although I think you’ll persevere. In that unlikely event, however, I’ll take partial visions for ten years. It should help motivate you.”

  It would. I considered countering with five years, but I thought his solution was fair, and he would be able to read that attitude from my mind. It’s hard to negotiate with mind readers, really.

  “It’s a deal.”

  * * *

  “You did what?” Evan asked when I told him about my deal with Matthew. We stood in our bedroom, I holding out the sheaf of papers outlining the spell, but he hadn’t accepted them.

  “I want to know what I’m dreaming about at night. I want to do it on my own, but so far taking down the dream catcher only means I don’t remember the dream. I need to know what’s behind the nightmare shroud, or I’ll never push past the block.”

  “You indentured yourself to him. How is that better than him reading your mind?”

  “I think he has good intentions. If he doesn’t, I’ll back out a year after I get control of this thing.”

  “That might be too late.”

  I shook my head. “You’re forgetting one thing. The power of a seer.”

  It took Evan a minute to understand. “Oh. I see.”

  “Exactly. He can’t control my gift.” I held out the sheaf of papers again. This time, he took them.

  “This spell will let me read your mind?”

  I nodded.

  “You still trust me to do that?”

  “Of course.” I looked away, remembering our earlier fight. “I haven’t forgiven you though.”

  “Of course not.” He brushed his fingers along my cheek and I could tell he wanted to say something else, but he didn’t. “I’ll need time to study these.”

  He walked away. Part of me wanted to call him back, but I held my tongue and choked on my pride.

  * * *

  It took Evan two days to learn the spell. Finally, on Friday night, he prepared his casting circle around our bed, helped me fall into dream-filled slumber, and worked his magic.

  He woke me near midnight. I shook off the vague tendrils of feelings, as usual all I could remember from the dream. There had been a sense of pain, loss, and fear. It didn’t tell me much, but judging by the haggard look on Evan’s face, it told him plenty.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I know why you don’t remember your dreams.”

  I sat up straighter. “You do? Already?”

  “My grandmother once told me that very rarely, a seer can look into the past as well as the future. Matthew brought up the same thing, when we talked about your gift.”

  “So?” I asked. “What am I seeing?”

  “You’re reliving the loss of your magic.” He didn’t meet my eyes when he said it.

  “Every night?” I sucked in a breath.

  “Maybe. I only know about tonight.”

  “Wow.” It was all I could think to say. But it made a sick sort of sense. In some ways, I had relived the pain of the draining every day of my life ever since–and not just the physical agony.

  A few months ago I had learned that my mother had also been drained and I had relived the pain from inside her own memories. The loss had been excruciating, both physically and mentally. At the time it had almost felt like something I recalled from my own memory, not just something I’d lived in hers. Maybe it was.

  “It looks like I took more from you than your magic,” Evan said, still refusing to meet my eyes. “I stole your dreams as well.”

  “Stop it,” I said, coming back to myself. I put my newfound knowledge on a mental back-burner to deal with later. For now, the look on Evan’s face took precedence.

  “What?” He still wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  “Stop it,” I repeated. “I forgave you, remember? I won’t have either one of us beating you up for the rest of our lives over it. At least I know why I’m blocked now. I can work with that.”

  “You’re not mad at me?” He stared at me now; I let his eyes lock with mine.

  “Not even a little bit.” It was surprisingly, profoundly, true. “What else did you see?”

  Evan shrugged. “A bit of this and that. It was confusing because I couldn’t control it. You and my father may end up getting in a serious fight, but the details were strange, and I’m not sure when it will happen, or what starts it.” He took a deep breath. “I also saw your cousin Jason, as a vampire.”

  “A vampire?” I closed my eyes against the image. “Is there anything I can do? Has it already happened?”

  “I don’t know. I said it was all confusing. It all seems linked somehow, but I don’t understand how.”

  It was more than I had expected from our first attempt, and it gave me a lot to think about, beginning with the nature of the block. Now that I knew what it was a bigger question remained: How did I keep myself from dreaming it every night?

  “I’m tired,” Evan said. “Do you want me to return the dream catcher for the rest of the night?”

  “No,” I said firmly. I wasn’t sure of much else but I was sure of this. “If I’m going to get past my block, I can’t run from the nightmares.”

  31

  JAY WAS JUST OVER TWO WEEKS old and amazingly strong even with his gift bound. Maybe his gift hadn’t been completely bound, because when I walked into the living room that Saturday morning, Jay was doing a sort of alligator crawl across the floor that I was pretty sure shouldn’t happen for a few months.

  I grinned at Kaitlin when I saw it, only to see that far from being the mother beaming with pride, she was crying.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  She wiped a few tears from her eyes. “Nothing, really. I just… it’s nothing. Everyone’s been so great.”

  That didn’t sound good. I took the seat beside her and put an arm around her. “I didn’t ask about everyone else, I asked about you.”

  Kaitlin didn’t answer right away. I sent a pleading look at Madison, who just shrugged and picked the baby up before he could crawl into the kitchen. She placed him back in the middle of the living room, but he began his slow alligator crawl, once again heading toward the forbidden.

  “You’ve been doing a great job,” I said.

  “He’s crawling,” Kaitlin said in a whisper. “He’s two weeks old and he’s crawling. How am I supposed to be his mother?”

  “You are his mother,” I said.

  “I feel so alone. I shouldn’t feel that way. People are here every day, but I can’t help it. I am alone, in the end. It’s just me.”

  I wanted to argue with her, but knew it would do no good. She was just expressing how she felt.

  “At night, it’s just me and the baby,” Kaitlin said. For a minute, I thought she would say more, but she didn’t. I thought of the nights I spent with Evan, and how already, in just a couple of weeks, I had come to rely on his warmth by my side.

  “I saw Jason again,” Kaitlin whispered, so faintly I could scarcely hear her. I had hoped she wouldn’t, but obviously that hope had been in vain.

  I tried to think of something to say to her, but nothing occurred to me. From the look on Madison’s face, nothing had occurred to her either. Luckily, we were both spared the need of formulating magic words by the chiming of the doorbell. I started to get it, remembered that I no longer technically lived there and that I therefore could not invite anyone in, and waited while Madison answered the door.

  “What are you doing here?” Madison asked as soon as she had the door cracked open.

  At first I thought she was talking to Evan, who was the only person I could see on the other side from my vantage point on the sofa. I started to say something, but then I caught sight of Scott Lee standing by Evan’s side.

  “We need to see Cassie,” Evan said. “It’s important.”

  Madison hesitated for a few more seconds before stepping aside and ushering the two men into
the house.

  “What is it?” I asked. Evan had not entered this house except to strengthen the wards in all the time since our marriage. I didn’t think his presence now boded well.

  “I found Tyler,” Scott said.

  “You did?” I asked. “Where?”

  “In the woods,” Scott said significantly. Last night had been the first night of the full moon. He could only mean his woods.

  “Did you kill him?” I asked. On the one hand, it was all the man deserved, but on the other hand, I did want to understand why he had done it.

  “Didn’t have to. He was already dead.”

  That took some time to digest. “When? How?”

  “He’s in my truck,” Scott said. “You can see for yourself.”

  I didn’t relish the thought but I nodded, stood, and braced myself for what could only be a horrible sight. Scott and Evan had both come in Scott’s pickup truck. The back was open, the bed looking empty from a distance, but as I drew closer, I realized a black tarp stretched across it, blending in with the black paint of the truck and making it look empty. There was a lump beneath that tarp.

  “He was well buried,” Scott said. “If he hadn’t been buried in my forest, he probably never would have been found. But I smelled the freshly dug earth and the blood. I didn’t like it. My pack spent half the night digging him up.”

  I shuddered at the image. “There was blood? Is that how he died?”

  “You tell me.” Scott climbed into the bed of the truck and drew back the tarp, revealing a sight that might have given me nightmares, if I remembered my dreams. Maybe, I thought wryly, this sight had given me nightmares and I hadn’t remembered. Maybe I could have prevented this from happening.

  Pushing aside the might-have-beens, I tried to detach my emotions from the situation and try to figure out what had happened.

  Tyler had been wearing gray slacks and a green polo shirt, though both were stained with blood. Neither was soaked with it, though, which was the first thing I found odd.

  The second thing I found odd was his apparent age. I had noticed that stress or something had caused him to go prematurely gray in recent months, but the man lying before me was only barely recognizable as the thirty-five-year-old Tyler Lake. This man had pure white hair and a face lined with enough wrinkles for a man twice his age. Or older.

  “If it weren’t for the blood, I’d swear he died of old age,” I said.

  “That’s what I thought, too,” Scott said.

  Gingerly, I pulled up his shirt, looking for the source of the bleeding. It wasn’t immediately clear. There were cuts everywhere, matting his chest hair and running in tiny rivulets down his belly. None of the cuts were deep, though.

  “Can you clear away some of this blood?” I asked Evan. “Carefully, I mean?”

  “Let me,” Scott said. “Evan’s not good at subtle.”

  I wasn’t sure what Scott meant to do when he jumped down from the truck, but when he returned a few minutes later, he had brought the magic of a wash cloth and bucket of water. Then he set to work, cleaning away the blood with more care than I would have expected from a man with such a violent side to his nature.

  “They’re runes,” I said after Scott had wiped away enough of the dried blood. “Someone carved runes into his chest. Or maybe he did it himself.”

  “Let me see.” Evan gently pulled me out of the way so he could get a better look at them. “I’ve never seen runes like these before.”

  “I have,” Scott said, setting aside the cloth.

  “You have?” Evan and I both looked at him expectantly.

  “Yes.” Scott jerked his head to the side, where Madison sat on the front steps, watching.

  Her face went pale when we looked at her, though she couldn’t have heard our conversation from that distance.

  “Come here,” Scott told her.

  Jerkily, Madison rose to her feet and moved closer. “What?”

  “Lift your sweater,” Scott said.

  “Scott, what are you-?” I began.

  I didn’t finish. Madison had lifted the hem of her black sweater to show us the white skin beneath. Only, it wasn’t the usual smooth, pale white you see on areas of the body that rarely see the sun. It was crisscrossed with angry pink scars in the shape of runes.

  “Put that down,” I told Madison, whose face had gone from pale to scarlet at the forced exhibitionism.

  She looked helplessly at Scott, who nodded. Then she yanked it down, covering the scars.

  “They’re from last summer,” Madison explained, “When David McClellan tried to steal my soul.”

  “So someone took Tyler’s soul?” Evan looked down at the wrinkled body, then back at Madison. “Is that how he died?”

  “Could be,” Scott said. “I haven’t exactly made a study of those runes.”

  “Nicolas has.” Madison’s face grew even redder, and she looked away.

  There was no doubt about it, the noise coming from Scott sounded a lot like a growl. “Has he?”

  “Did he tell you anything about what he learned?” I wasn’t sure Nicolas would talk to me, even about this.

  Madison shook her head. “Just said it was in some dark books the family didn’t usually put on display.”

  The alchemy books. But if that was the case, Evan might have a copy as well. I looked at him, and I saw the understanding in his eyes.

  “I’m going to call Nicolas,” I said.

  * * *

  I didn’t call Nicolas. I started to, but then I thought of all the other times I had tried to call him over the past weeks and knew it wouldn’t work. If I had a hope of talking to my brother then I needed to try a different strategy, so I drove out to the Eagles’ home, hoping Linda and Clark would help me corner him.

  They were having breakfast when I arrived–all three of them. Linda welcomed me into her casual eat-in kitchen, inviting me to join them. Nicolas half stood up when I entered, but after a warning look from his mentor, he sat down again. The icy cold look in his eyes, so unlike his usual hot anger, reminded me just how low I had sunk in his estimation.

  “I hear congratulations are in order,” Linda said.

  Because Linda was a midwife, my first thought was of the child I kept dreaming about. I was due to start bleeding in the next day or two, but didn’t expect it to start.

  Then I realized she meant my marriage. “Thank you,” I said.

  Nicolas looked out a nearby window.

  “How is everyone?” I asked him. “I, um, haven’t talked to anyone in a while.”

  When he didn’t respond, just continued to look out that window, I started to feel dizzy. Linda rushed forward, pulling up a chair.

  “Nicolas!” Linda admonished. “How old are you? The silent treatment is a game for children.”

  Shame twisted me into knots as I remembered that Evan and I had played the same game, although never as effectively as Nicolas. Evan and I almost always ended up in each other’s arms, once even making love in utter silence.

  Nicolas turned ever so slightly. “What do you want?”

  “I asked how the family is.”

  “Like you care.”

  “Nicolas!” Linda scolded. “Of course Cassie cares. Just because you have your feelings hurt, doesn’t mean–”

  “My feelings are not hurt.” Nicolas stood fully this time, pushing his chair back. “She betrayed us. She surrendered.”

  “She is right here,” I said.

  Nicolas looked at me then, really looked at me for the first time in days. “He stole your magic, Cassie. And maybe Victor didn’t plan to kill Dad, but he’s dead all the same.”

  “Victor can burn in hell, and I hope he does, but Evan didn’t do either of those things.”

  “Didn’t he?” Nicolas’s scowl grew even deeper. “He didn’t exactly jump to give your magic back, did he?”

  “Jump to it? No. But he did offer it back.”

  The silence that fell across the room was so thick I could
have cut it with a knife. I thought about trying. There was a butter knife six inches from my right hand.

  “What do you mean?” Nicolas asked.

  “I was pretty clear,” I said. “He offered. I declined.”

  “You did?” Nicolas sat down.

  “I think this is our cue to leave, dear,” Linda said to her husband.

  “Yes, yes. I quite agree.” Clark bounced to his feet and followed his wife into the next room.

  “Why?” Nicolas asked. The word sounded hollow, and almost defeated.

  “Because it was my choice, and that’s what I decided.” I didn’t look at him; I was staring into the past, looking at a month’s worth of e-mails that my father had written. “I resented Dad for what he was doing. I think I still resent him for getting himself killed, in the end. It’s not what I wanted, and it’s not what I want for you either.”

  “But why?” Nicolas asked again.

  “Because I love him. Which doesn’t change the fact that I love you too.”

  He didn’t answer. When I risked taking a peek, I wasn’t sure what I saw there. Had the things I said made any kind of impact at all?

  “I need your help,” I said. “Evan and I need your help.”

  “Oh?” Nicolas’s expression was suddenly guarded.

  “We found Tyler Lake.”

  His eyes lit.

  “Dead.”

  “Who killed him?” Nicolas asked.

  “We’re working on that. We’re also working on the runes we found cut into his flesh. Madison has similar rune scars on her.”

  “They took his soul?”

  “That’s what I was hoping you could help us with, since you were studying it. Evan has the same books you do, but he hasn’t studied the darker ones.”

  “I can take a look at the runes,” Nicolas began.

  “I want you to work with Evan,” I said before he could finish, because on a burst of sudden inspiration I knew it was vital. With my father dead, Nicolas was the key. If I could convince him to accept Evan then the rest would follow. “Please, Nicolas. Give him a chance. Not his father. Him.”

  Nicolas didn’t say anything for so long that I was sure he would refuse. I was beginning to deflate, to leave and regroup, when he spoke in a voice so low I barely heard it. “He really offered it back? And you really refused?”