Stolen Dreams

by Christine Amsden

  Anastasia. I touched my belly, but there were no signs of her yet, other than a barely missed period and my miraculous recovery. There might not be signs of her for some time, since her healing gift would ease any morning sickness. Or so my mom had claimed one time, when reminiscing about the easiest of her pregnancies–Juliana’s.

  Anastasia would be a powerful healer if her gift was manifesting so soon, but there had never been any question that Evan and I would have powerful children.

  Although, I thought, feeling a fierce sort of protectiveness toward any unnamed and as-of-yet unconceived children who may show up in the future, I didn’t care if they were powerful. It wouldn’t matter to me in the least.

  The front door stood open. A cool breeze teased my hair, sending a strand across my face. It itched, and I brushed it aside. Then I sat up, looking for Evan.

  Your husband is in tears.

  I sprang to my feet and searched, not wanting him to feel the pain for a moment longer than necessary. I went out the front door first, since it was wide open, and spotted him. He sat in the grass near the driveway, next to Nicolas, who was also in tears. They weren’t even trying to kill each other.

  There had to have been a great line, the perfect something I could have said to get their attention and announce my return from the near-dead, but I couldn’t think of it. In the end, I didn’t say anything at all, just cleared my throat.

  Evan saw me first, and from the look in his eyes I knew he didn’t think he was seeing me at all. He thought he was seeing my ghost.

  “I’m sorry, Cassie,” he said.

  “Cassandra,” I replied. “I think from now on, I’d like to be Cassandra.”

  Nicolas noticed me then, too. He stood, but did not approach. Meanwhile, Evan was slowly starting to realize that I wasn’t a ghost. That I was real.

  “Cassie?” He stretched out his hands, and the next moment I was flying into his arms. I let out a squeak of surprise, but that was all I managed before Evan was holding me, touching me, and generally reassuring himself that I was flesh and blood.

  Nicolas didn’t exactly intrude, but he did put his hand on my back, needing the reassurance of physical contact as well. “You’re alive. I felt you die. I felt your heart stop.”

  I shrugged. “I think my daughter will be as amazing a healer as Juliana.”

  Evan squeezed me tighter.

  “Which doesn’t mean you should break my ribs,” I protested.

  He loosened his grip.

  “Who did this to you?” Evan demanded, finally setting me away from him. “What happened?”

  This was the part I was dreading, and not because Victor had tried to kill me. Victor, for all his faults, wouldn’t have done that.

  “Evan,” I said, remembering the pain of my father’s death as if it had happened only yesterday. “Your father is dead.”

  “No he’s not. I just saw him run out of here. He was going after–”

  “He’s the one who tried to kill you, Cassie.” Nicolas glared at Evan. “Evan and I have a slightly different view on the matter.”

  “And you’re both wrong. Victor’s dead. Another soul has taken over his body, one with the gift of strength, not telekinesis.”

  Evan set me away from him. “I-we’ve been reading about that possibility, but who-?”

  “Jason’s dad,” I replied. Then, I filled them in on the rest.

  I kept an eye on Evan while I spoke. I think he heard and understood, but I could see the triple shock of loss, reprieve, and loss taking its toll. He was trying to be strong, trying to push it back until we could deal with it properly, but he was having trouble.

  “So, you two have been doing the research,” I said as a summary. “How do we stop him?”

  “Kill him,” Nicolas said.

  “How can we be sure he doesn’t take a new body?” I asked.

  “Because it’s not an instantaneous hop.” Nicolas was still speaking; Evan looked too dazed to offer any of the conclusions they had reached over the past few days. “The switching ceremony takes hours of preparation, and works best at the full moon.”

  “Tonight is the full moon,” I said.

  Nicolas nodded.

  “We’ve got to find him. He’s going to hop again.”

  “He might choose anyone.” Evan’s voice sounded hollow. “He probably won’t even stay in town.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “He came here for revenge. That’s why he killed my father… and yours. They both stopped him from getting his son twenty-four years ago.”

  “He had a great cover,” Nicolas said. “A mediator. I wonder if he made things worse.” He looked down at the ground, fidgeting. “Not that it would have taken much.”

  “He made me think you were responsible for Amanda’s kidnapping,” Evan said. “I had forgotten. He didn’t come right out and say it, but he sure implied it.”

  “He never exactly suggested we let her go,” Nicolas added. “He had Dad alone for an hour, and afterward, Dad was more certain than ever that he wanted to hold onto her.”

  “The car explosion,” Evan said suddenly. “I never did figure out who did it. I questioned every relative I could find, as sure as your family that one of us had done it.”

  To my surprise, Nicolas accepted the theory without question. “But what now? He’s had his revenge, so he could go anywhere. Become anyone.”

  “Who said it’s complete?” I asked.

  They both stared at me, blankly.

  “Who’s the one who ran away from him in the first place?” I prompted, hoping they’d get the picture.

  “Aunt Sherry,” Nicolas said.

  “We have to hurry,” Evan added. “He’s got a good head start. We’ll take my car.”

  Nicolas didn’t argue, he just headed after Evan. When they both reached the car, Evan turned to me. I hadn’t moved.

  “Are you coming?” Evan asked.

  Not everyone is a warrior, but if you need one, you married a fine specimen.

  “Not yet. I have a phone call to make, then I’ll be along.”

  I saw the surprise in Evan’s eyes, but he didn’t question me. He and Nicolas piled in and they were off, leaving me behind, but not forgotten.

  I had the phone number Jason had given me in my pocket. I dialed, and when he answered, I said only, “He’s in Victor Blackwood’s body, and he’s after your mom. Hurry, if you want a piece of him.” Then I hung up.

  35

  I WASN’T THERE WHEN JASON SHOWED UP at his mother’s apartment, the one above her shop, and tore into the body of Victor Blackwood, draining it. I arrived a few minutes later as Jason left the building, fangs still bared, traces of blood clinging to his lips.

  He paused for only a minute when he saw me. “You held up your end of the bargain. I’ll keep mine. But I’m going to ask Kaitlin. It’s up to her now.” He blurred away before I could answer.

  Upstairs, Evan leaned over his father’s body, covering it with a blanket. I could see the tears he held at bay, but he did not let them fall. Not yet. All around him blood stained the creamy beige carpeting, the yellow sofa, and the walls, remnants of the violent attack which had taken the life of a specter disguised as a man.

  More people began to arrive, filling the tiny space past capacity. Scots and Blackwoods alike crowded into the room, talking over one another, demanding to know what had happened. They had Aunt Sherry in tears before Juliana led her away to cry in peace–not over her attack, but over the true loss of her only son. The crowd grew even more restless at her departure, but I held my tongue, needing to wait until everyone arrived. I had something to say, and I only wanted to say it one time. I waited until it looked like curses would begin flying before I stepped onto a coffee table so I could stand head and shoulders above all but the tallest men in the room.

  “Enough!” I had their attention. Now, I just had to figure out what to do with it. “It’s over. The fighting is over.”

  Someone–one of Evan’s cousins, I think
–started to protest.

  “Over!” I repeated. “It’s done. My father and Victor Blackwood started this a quarter century ago, and we’re finishing it today.”

  “Are you going to let her talk like that?” asked Paul Malloren, one of Evan’s cousins.

  “She’s free to say whatever she likes,” Evan said. “In this case, I happen to agree with her. It’s over. Not because anyone has won, or lost, or surrendered. Cassie could have had her magic back weeks ago, but she refused.”

  A low murmur swept over the room. I held my breath, not sure what to expect, not sure if our words had made a difference.

  Then Nicolas stepped forward and held out his hand to Evan. At first Evan looked like he suspected it of being booby trapped, but he took it. They shook hands.

  “You’d better make her happy,” Nicolas said. “I’ll know if you don’t. You’re required to come for dinner every Sunday night.”

  “I will,” Evan promised.

  * * *

  Evan and I did get married on April 2nd, as Abigail’s last prophecy had indicated. This time it was almost perfect. My mom and I designed and sewed the gown together, and she showed signs of finally coming out of her depression. The next few years weren’t going to be easy for her, left alone to raise the seven children who had not yet passed into adulthood, but she would manage.

  Juliana, Elena, Kaitlin, and Madison all stood by my side, exactly as I had pictured. Since Evan and I had already legally married, and I didn’t need anyone to sign an official registry, I made them all maids of honor and arranged them in order of height. This still put Juliana closest to me, but it kept Kaitlin from feeling remotely jealous about the fact.

  Evan looked wonderful in his spring suit. I had talked him into taking a hair regrowth potion, replacing his military buzz-cut with the shoulder-length waves I had come to admire. He tied them back for the wedding, but they would come loose that night, when I ran my fingers through them.

  Only my father’s absence cast a shadow over the day. Nicolas stepped into his role, performing it admirably, but it wasn’t the same. As Nicolas placed my hand in Evan’s, I remembered Dad’s last words to me. I love you. Maybe my last vision of him had all been a dream. I didn’t have Elena’s gift after all, but I hoped it was true. I clung to it, anyway. It was an act of need, and of faith.

  After the ceremony, Mom threw a wonderful party on the lawns outside our house. I whirled and danced, ate too much cake, and then, when no one was looking, I snuck to the place where my father’s body had been laid to rest. On the rock marking his grave, I placed a yellow rose.

  I ran into Kaitlin on my way back. She was off by herself too, looking into the peaceful waters of the lake. She hadn’t mentioned Jason to me, and I hadn’t asked, but I knew what was going to happen. I had dreamed it.

  “You’re going with him,” I said flatly.

  “How did you know?”

  I shrugged. I wasn’t “out” as a seer yet, not when I still didn’t have any control, and I certainly wouldn’t share the secret with someone who was about to make the biggest mistake of her life.

  “Don’t turn,” I told her. “Just do that one thing for me. Don’t become a vampire.”

  “I don’t know if I can.”

  “Tell him anything–tell him you want to nurse the baby. Vampires can’t do that any more than they can get pregnant. Tell him you’ll do it when he’s weaned.”

  “I-I’ll think about it. What does it matter, though, if I do it now or next year?”

  Wisdom, I hoped. My dreams showed me a glimmer of the possibility, if she refused to actually turn at first. I had promised Jason I wouldn’t interfere though, so this was the most I could do. And even if I hadn’t made the promise, this might have been all I could do. Kaitlin didn’t want to spend the rest of her life working in a diner, and she didn’t want to spend it alone. I only wished she knew how to pick better men.

  When she wandered away, I claimed her thinking spot. A few minutes later Madison approached, looking happier than I’d seen her in a long time. She and Evan were starting to form a strange sort of bond, one that grew stronger in the wake of their biological father’s death. The bond seemed to be helping them both heal, especially Madison, who hadn’t even flinched when she saw Nicolas at the wedding.

  “People are starting to wonder where you are,” Madison said.

  “I just needed a minute. I’ll walk back with you.” I fell into step at her side as we returned to the pavilion.

  Evan was dancing with Juliana. Nicolas was dancing with Amanda Lee. Scots and Blackwoods were celebrating, together, and no one was getting hurt.

  “Cassie-Cassandra,” Madison corrected. It would take some time for people to get used to the new form of my name. I was in no hurry. It was taking me some time to get used to it, too.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Have you seen anything in your dreams about me?” she asked. I hadn’t meant to let her in on the secret, but it had slipped out one day while she was visiting. In her case I didn’t regret the slip, though I warned her against sharing with Kaitlin for now.

  As for her future… I hesitated. I had seen glimpses only. Directed dreaming was still pretty far out of my reach, and the glimpses didn’t add up to much. What should I tell her? That the man she feared, and for good reason, might soon be intruding into her life? Since I didn’t see any way out of it, I didn’t think saying anything would be a good idea. Besides, she didn’t know that I could see the past, and that I had seen why she feared Scott.

  “No,” I said finally. “I’m sorry. I’d tell you if there was anything I thought would help.”

  “Yeah, okay.” She slipped into the crowd and ended up dancing with Adam, who I’m sure charmed her into it.

  Evan came to stand by my side, his hand falling easily into mine, reminding me that I was cherished. There is no greater feeling in the world.

  He and I were doing well, despite our early fights. I saw my path more clearly now, and not because I could dream the future. He had been right–we were a team, each with our own skills. I no longer wore a potion belt, though I did sometimes brew potions. I didn’t need that kind of magic; Evan had enough for both of us.

  Sheriff Adams had already called me in to consult with him on a missing child case, and after obtaining a lock of hair I turned it over to Evan for a location spell. Luckily, the child had only gotten lost, and we found her in the woods, wandering in circles.

  We were also working with Matthew on the slave trading ring Alexander had mentioned. Leads were developing far more slowly on that case, but last night I had dreamed about a victim. In another night or two, maybe I would dream the key to finding her.

  “Shall we slip out?” Evan asked.

  I took one last look around and then nodded, once. No one noticed us slipping away–all the better for us. We needed to spend time alone while we could because in eight months, it would be much harder to find that time. Anastasia would enter our lives. It was a name I hoped she would feel comfortable growing into one day. I knew something about growing into names.

  My parents always thought the longer the name, the more powerful the sorcerer, so they called me Cassandra Morgan Ursula Margaret Scot. These days, I go by Cassandra.

  End

  About the author

  Christine Amsden has been writing science fiction and fantasy for as long as she can remember. She loves to write and it is her dream that others will be inspired by this love and by her stories. Speculative fiction is fun, magical, and imaginative but great speculative fiction is about real people defining themselves through extraordinary situations. Christine writes primarily about people and it is in this way that she strives to make science fiction and fantasy meaningful for everyone.

  At the age of 16, Christine was diagnosed with Stargardt’s Disease, a condition that affects the retina and causes a loss of central vision. She is now legally blind, but has not let this slow her down or get in the way of her dreams.

>   Christine currently lives in the Kansas City area with her husband, Austin, who has been her biggest fan and the key to her success. They have two beautiful children, Drake and Celeste.

  http://www.christineamsden.com/

  Cassie Scot Mystery series

  Cassie Scot: ParaNormal Detective Book 1

  Secrets and Lies Book 2

  Mind Games Book 3

  Stolen Dreams Book 4

  Other novels by Christine

  Touch of Fate (paranormal suspense)

  The Immortality Virus (SF suspense)