Anathema (Causal Enchantment, #1)

by K.A. Tucker

6. Déjà Vu

  This feels too familiar.

  The same statue stood beside me. The same trees towered over me. The same twilight challenged my eyes. The only thing worse than last night’s dream would be last night’s dream repeating itself.

  I looked down to see my jade green evening gown. That was different, at least. My pendant had come alive again, burning hot and shining a brilliant orange–red.

  “We’ve been waiting for you,” a low voice called from the darkness.

  My body went rigid. My eyes scanned the trees for the speaker. I sagged in relief as a woman with an angelic face and springy curls stepped out from the shadows. Amelie. This was a different dream.

  “We’re alone,” Amelie confirmed when she noticed my eyes checking the trees for the others. “Sorry about last time … we didn’t have much choice. Though I can’t say I didn’t enjoy part of it.” She grinned sheepishly. “You are … an apparition of sorts. I’ll explain later, but we need to get away from here.” She stepped forward, then hesitated. “Sorry about this.”

  I frowned. “About what?”

  I regained consciousness as my bare feet hit stone. Full darkness had descended and I couldn’t see a thing. “Amelie?” I whispered.

  “Sorry,” Amelie said again.

  “What did you do to me?”

  “Nothing, really. It was just easier if I didn’t have to explain things yet. Besides, it would have taken all night at your pace,” Amelie said, evading my question. “Plus you probably would have tripped and knocked yourself out on a tree root again.”

  “I’m not that slow,” I muttered, reaching up to touch the bump on my head from the previous night. I had excelled at track in high school. The perfect loner’s sport.

  Amelie laughed. “You are, next to me. Besides, I’d like to see you run through the woods and up a mountain in that,” her eyes appraised my dress.

  I pursed my lips, conceding to her logic.

  “Come on, let’s build you a fire. You’re shivering.” She grabbed my hand and began leading me through the darkness.

  “How can you see anything?” I asked incredulously.

  “I have great eyesight,” she answered simply. “Stay right there.”

  “Where am I gonna go?” I mumbled, wrapping my arms around my chest.

  I heard a harsh scraping sound, like stone striking metal, then a flame suddenly appeared. I watched as it floated through the darkness, sparking other flames as it moved until dozens of little fires lit the space around me.

  The torchlight revealed we were in another cave, this one much larger than the one last night—its ceiling invisible from where I stood. It was empty except for a few cast iron park benches arranged around a circle of stones. A perfectly–formed teepee of wood, dried grass, and miscellaneous shreddings was piled within. A firepit. A new one, given the lack of ash. On the other side of the cave, three tunnel openings led into oblivion.

  “You’ll be safe here for the time being,” Amelie offered, walking up to me with a torch in her hand, as I surveyed the place.

  “Cozy.” I hugged myself tightly.

  “Right. A fire.” Amelie strolled over to hold her torch to the teepee. In seconds a roaring fire was blazing. “You’ll need to come closer to feel the heat,” she said, giggling cheerily.

  I walked over to sit on one of the benches. A worn piece of metal lay where the wooden slats of a normal park bench seat had rotted away. I awkwardly sat down, trying to avoid the sharp corners on the metal, afraid of tearing my dress or cutting myself.

  Amelie slid in easily beside me, seemingly unconcerned about injury. “I love your dress.” She reached out and lightly touched the silky material with her fingertips.

  “Thanks. I was wearing this tonight when I fell asleep,” I responded. And then it hit me and I began laughing.

  “Why is that funny?” Amelie asked, confused.

  “Because I’m worried about tearing my dress on this bench!”

  She frowned. “As you should be—it’s a pretty dress.”

  “No, you don’t understand. I’m dreaming. This cave, this fire, you—it’s fake. I know that, and yet here I am, worried about my dress!”

  “You think you’re dreaming,” Amelie said slowly.

  “No. I know I’m dreaming. Last night I went to sleep, dreamed about you guys, then woke up in my bed—right after you threw that man’s headless body into the fire.” I shuddered.

  “Last night … ?” Amelie repeated, looking perplexed. “Maybe you did wake up in your own bed but, here, you disappeared into thin air. And it wasn’t last night. You’ve been gone for over a month.” Her tone and her expression were so convincing that it was a struggle not to believe her.

  A puff of wind cooled my shoulder. I turned to see Bishop and Fiona sitting on the next bench; the unexpected and freakishly quiet entry made me jump.

  “Finally!” Bishop said by way of greeting, his charcoal eyes twinkling. “You took your time coming back.”

  “Where are they?” Amelie asked them quietly.

  Bishop shrugged, a serious look flickering over his face. “Hopefully Rachel will prove useful.”

  All three turned to me now, dismissing their secret concern.

  “So, how does it work?” Bishop asked eagerly.

  I frowned.

  “Evangeline was just telling me how she thinks this is all a dream and we are figments of her imagination,” Amelie said, her eyebrows raised.

  Bishop roared with laughter. “You think you’re dreaming?”

  Fiona cuffed him sharply upside the head, the slap echoing through the cave. It didn’t appear to hurt him in the least, though he looked unimpressed. “You’ll swear it’s a nightmare, soon enough,” he muttered, standing up and stalking out of the cave.

  “Ignore him, he has an odd sense of humor,” Fiona apologized in that smoky voice, offering me a pleasant smile.

  “So why are you dressed up?” Amelie said, chucking another log into the fire.

  “I was about to ask,” Fiona murmured, adding, “It’s gorgeous!” Her long, slender fingers reached out and caressed the material, as Amelie had. “It’s been so long …”

  I glanced at their frayed clothing but averted my gaze politely. They both laughed.

  “We look homeless, don’t we?” Amelie said, holding the corners of her tattered shirt up with beautifully manicured nails. It didn’t make any sense. But of course—this is a dream!

  “Isn’t Evangeline lovely?” Amelie suddenly asked someone behind me.

  I turned my head to see Caden standing a few feet away, his piercing green eyes on me. My heart skipped a few beats. “Hi,” I managed to sputter, feeling heat creep up my neck to engulf my cheeks.

  “You’re wearing slightly more than last time,” he observed, his mouth curving in a tiny smile. “What’s the occasion?”

  I felt a second wave of embarrassment flare, remembering that obscene outfit. Now here I was, barely covered again. “My birthday.”

  “Oh, I love birthdays! How old are you now?” Amelie asked gleefully.

  “Eighteen.”

  “To be eighteen again,” she sang dramatically, tilting her head back, her eyes closing as she reminisced.

  I frowned, looking at her childish face. She’s not a day over sixteen, is she?

  She clapped her hands together in small, quick taps, a mischievous grin on her face. “Oh, goody! You don’t believe me! How old do you think I am?”

  I blinked. “I don’t know … nineteen?”

  “Nope! Guess again!” Amelie exclaimed, her face bright with amusement.

  “Okay … um, twenty?”

  She shook her head, giggling wildly.

  This didn’t seem like much of a game. “I give up!”

  “Well … I’m not exactly sure. But, if we’ve been keeping accurate track of time, I’d say I’m about 752, give or take a decade.”

  I frowned, biting my lower lip. “I don’t get it.”

  “We’re s
orry, Evangeline. This isn’t as much fun for you as it is for Amelie,” Fiona apologized, her face softening with a sympathetic smile.

  “Humans never did find this game fun,” Amelie said with a pout, her springy curls bobbing.

  Humans? I stared blankly at her.

  “Haven’t you figured it out yet? What we are?” she asked.

  I glanced at the others’ solemn expressions. If they aren’t humans, what could they be? It hit me then. I started laughing. “Of course! You’re vampires!” Viggo’s twisted adaptation was still fresh in my mind, and now in my dreams.

  “We won’t hurt you, I promise!” Amelie said earnestly, dropping to her knees in front of me to hold my hands. “We just want to be friends.” Her eyes darted to Caden, who was watching me with a concerned expression. I noticed Bishop beside him; he must have snuck back in at some point.

  “Of course! You are,” I was on my feet now, replaying Viggo’s conversation, “beautiful, emotional creatures. Misunderstood.” I paced around the fire. “And you want to be friends, right? With quiet, meek Evangeline, who has no friends. People don’t even notice me. But you—” my arm swept around the circle in rare dramatic flair “—all you want to do is protect me.” I paused. “So this is how things manifest into dreams,” I mused, more to myself. The events from the day were merging with my … what? Deep inner fears of loneliness, perhaps? Forcing them to the surface in this fantasy of super–powered beings.

  I stopped pacing in front of Caden. “And you.” I walked up to him. “Of course you’re in my dream. No guy has ever even so much as blinked in my direction. And here you are, so perfect, and beautiful, and sweet …” Caden’s eyes widened in surprise. “When I see you, I want to …” I didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

  Luckily I didn’t have to, as Rachel suddenly appeared out of thin air to wrap possessive arms around Caden’s waist. His arm quickly found its place around her shoulder, albeit stiffly.

  A vile bitterness bubbled up in me. “And of course you’re dating the gorgeous but trashy girlfriend that I could never compete with. Typical. Is this what you like?” I blurted at Caden, gesturing callously at Rachel. “She’s not a very nice person, you know.”

  Bishop’s head fell back and he barked laughter.

  “Clearly I’ve missed an interesting conversation,” Rachel said, smiling haughtily at me. Her voice didn’t carry the same hostility as the previous night. It was sickly sweet and therefore no more pleasant. “And I would love to hear the rest of this tirade of yours. However, we have visitors that I wasn’t able to deter. Eight of them.”

  “Great! Invite them in!” I said, throwing my hands up in the air. “Another one of those monsters, maybe? Is that supposed to represent my ugly inner demon?”

  Rachel turned to Caden, grimacing. “Has she lost it?”

  “Let’s play it cool,” Caden suggested, ignoring both of us.

  “And maybe we should get her out of here,” Fiona added, eyeing me warily.

  Caden’s hand—silky smooth and on the cool side—latched onto mine, sending a frisson through my body. He tugged me after him, running toward one of the tunnels and pulling me with him into the blackness.

  I ran blindly, unable to see in the darkness, until my foot snagged on something hard and I stumbled, smashing my shoulder against the wall. I yelped in pain.

  “Quiet!” Caden hissed, but followed that with an apology.

  “How can you see?” I grated through my teeth, rubbing at the burning pain in my shoulder.

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he hoisted me up by one arm and continued running. My pain instantly vanished, as if his closeness had injected me with a shot of morphine.

  Finally he stopped running and set me down gently. He shoved something soft into my hands. “Put those on,” Caden instructed in a whisper.

  “Put what on?”

  He mumbled something incoherent. Seconds later a flickering torch illuminated a tiny, low–ceilinged cave. “Change, please,” he whispered urgently, turning to face the exit. I could sense the apprehension in his voice. It was all too familiar from the other night.

  I looked down at my hands, which held a ratty pair of pants and a shirt similar to what Amelie and Fiona wore. They’re disguising me. Okay, I’ll play along. I pulled on the pants. Unclasping my dress’s neck strap, I let the dress drop noiselessly to the ground, wishing it had allowed for a bra.

  I had my arms through the sleeves of the shirt and was about to pull it over my head when Caden’s body suddenly crushed mine against the cave wall, his arms wrapping around me in a tight embrace.

  “Just go along,” he whispered in my ear, close enough that his bottom lip grazed my earlobe, sending ticklish shivers through my body.

  And then he was kissing me.

  I had only ever kissed a boy once in my life—a chubby, awkward fourteen–year–old named Stewart who was staying in the same foster home as me. The kiss had been the result of a lost bet. It had been a dreadful, open–mouthed fish kiss and I was sure he would swallow my tongue whole. Even I—unseasoned in the make–out department—recognized that Stewart wasn’t going to get far with the ladies without vast improvement. This kiss was nothing like that. It began soft and inviting, only to intensify into urgency. Caden knew what he was doing.

  Please don’t wake up right now! I pleaded with my subconscious, enjoying this too much.

  “Who’s back here?” a voice called.

  Caden’s grip around me tightened. His lips slid off mine as he guided my face into his strong, broad chest, away from the voice. I was relieved that my half–dressed body was well hidden against his.

  “Do you mind? We’re busy,” Caden spat toward the voice.

  “Indeed,” another voice said. “We’re looking for Jethro. These are his caves. You wouldn’t happen to know where he’s disappeared to?” The lilt in his voice screamed suspicion.

  “Don’t know. This place was vacant when we stumbled across it a few weeks ago,” Caden replied, his tone icy.

  “That’s odd … Jethro’s occupied these mountains since the war. I’m surprised he would abandon them.”

  War? My palms began sweating at the mention of Jethro, the image of those cold, spidery eyes clear in my memory.

  “What can I say? I guess they needed a change,” Caden answered, turning to caress my cheek with his cold nose, feigning ignorance. Another shiver ran through my body.

  “What’s with all the torches around here?” a second male voice said. “You planning on burning someone?”

  I tensed up. Caden’s arms gripped my body more securely. A warning squeeze.

  “We like firelight. Now beat it, unless you wanna watch,” Caden said, his lips now running along the side of my neck, as if he were dismissing the two men. My knees buckled but he was prepared for my reaction, holding me upright.

  “What’s that?” one of them suddenly hissed.

  Caden pivoted smoothly, turning so I was completely hidden from them.

  The dress, I thought, panicking. I scanned the cave floor but couldn’t see any green satin.

  “It’s called foreplay. If you don’t know what comes next, I suggest you go find someone to teach you. The Council has a bunch of prepubescent girls to practice on.” Caden smirked, acting nonchalant, trying to steer them away from whatever they had noticed. It didn’t work.

  “It looked like a wound.”

  My eyes instinctively darted to the raw, reddened skin on my shoulder where I’d hit the cave wall. Why would that matter?

  “You must be seeing things.” Caden’s voice was light and humorous.

  There was a pause. I thought his efforts had paid off. They may have, had the sounds from a violent commotion not drifted in from the main room just then.

  “Don’t—” Caden growled, but he didn’t have a chance to finish before being wrenched from me and launched across the room.

  A tall man took three quick strides to stand in front of me, his hand reaching out to rou
ghly grip my arm as he inspected my shoulder. His steely blue eyes searched my face, stopping briefly at the light sheen of sweat on my forehead before locking with my own terrified eyes. With his short, strawberry–blonde hair and chiseled face, I would have considered him attractive had he not been looking at me predatorily.

  He let out a low whistle. “I’m seeing it but surely I don’t believe it.” He inhaled deeply. “I can’t smell it.” He paused in thought. “Where have you been hiding, little one?”

  I bit my lip and remained silent, though I doubt I could have formed two words, had I wanted to.

  “Don’t hurt her,” Caden grunted. “She can lead us to more.”

  I glanced over to see him pinned beneath an ape–like fellow with no neck, the kind who spends more time in the gym than sleeping.

  “Oh, I would never hurt you, trust me,” the man crooned innocently to me, his voice so soothing that my body intuitively relaxed, wanting to trust him. He reached up to grip my chin with his thumb and index finger, effortlessly pushing my head back until I couldn’t see anything but the cave ceiling.

  I sensed him leaning in. Oh God, he’s going to kiss me. And then probably rape me. I cringed.

  And then I felt pain. Sharp, stabbing pain as something pierced my exposed neck. My mouth opened to scream but only a gurgle escaped. I struggled to break free, swinging my arms in defense, but every move sent jolts of acute pain through my body, as if I were snagged on a barbwire fence. I stopped fighting.

  The ceiling began spinning as dizziness set in and my body slackened. Soon my arms hung limply at my sides. The pain finally dulled to an uncomfortable pressure. Only then did I sense the extreme burning sensation against my chest.

  “Stop. Please,” I heard Caden plead.

  “You’ll kill her before we find out where she’s been hiding,” someone else—it had to be the ape man—warned.

  The pressure continued.

  “Hey!” the ape man shouted more sharply a few moments later.

  The pressure subsided as my attacker stopped whatever he was doing to me. He held my body up as my head lolled back. I didn’t have the strength to lift it anymore.

  “Strange. Her blood doesn’t taste like anything,” I heard my attacker say, followed by, “She’ll cooperate more as one of us.” His voice seemed distant, even though he was standing right next to me.

  Everything seemed distant.

  And then I felt that uncomfortable pressure again. This time a new sensation came with it, like an inoculation pumping something into me to snake through my veins. It carried a warm, numbing tingle through my limbs. What can it be … poison?

  Something sharp and blistering hot suddenly stabbed me in the chest. I moaned feebly, all I could muster. Seconds later I was falling; my body hit the ground like a rag doll at the same time that I heard a skin–peeling shriek. Was that me screaming? No, it came from beside me. Caden!

  I struggled to turn my head. My attacker was convulsing on the cave floor like an epileptic.

  “You alright?” a voice called.

  Another screech sounded. The cave plunged into complete darkness.

  I faded in and out of consciousness, unable to move, my breathing strained and irregular. I had no idea how much time had passed since the lights went out—seconds? Hours? Only silence and darkness surrounded me.

  “Caden?” I finally whispered, my voice feeble.

  “Shhh … it’s over,” a deep, soothing voice murmured. Something cool stroked my cheek. A hand, I think. I felt my body shift slightly and then I was being cradled in arms—warm, protective arms. Caden’s arms.

  “What … happened?” I asked.

  “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay,” Caden said, his hand tenderly cupping my chin, followed quietly by, “Please be okay.” His thumb caressed the corner of my mouth.

  “I’m … cold.”

  “Here. Let me help you.” There was a gentle tugging as something slid over my head—my shirt. Oh, right. I was only half–dressed. Why was I only … oh right.

  “Sorry about earlier. You were too slow. It was the only thing I could think of,” he apologized softly.

  My lips crooked into a tiny smile as I recalled that incredible kiss. The smile only lasted until I remembered the excruciating pain that had followed.

  “There’s a hole … in my chest … It was on fire,” I croaked.

  Caden’s hands fumbled with my shirt, his fingertips gently inspecting me, careful not to expose or touch anything inappropriate. It sent a quiver through my limp, weak carcass of a body. My heart began to wallop against my chest wall, as if in its last–ditch effort before handing in its resignation.

  “No holes. No fire,” Caden confirmed gently.

  “What did he … do to me?” I panted, tears welling up in my eyes. Something about blood and the taste, I remembered that much.

  “You’re okay,” he said again.

  “I can’t see. Am I blind?”

  I heard Amelie’s voice then. “What happened?”

  “Light, please,” Caden requested softly and in the next instant a torch was burning again. Caden looked down at me, worry tarnishing those perfect jade eyes. Rolling my head slightly, I saw ape man lying facedown on the ground, another torch jutting out of his back. My attacker lay motionless where I had seen him last, his glassy, unfocused eyes assuring me he was dead.

  “Where’s Rachel?” Caden quietly asked Amelie.

  “Dealing with the last of them,” Amelie responded levelly, her concerned eyes never leaving me.

  Caden turned back to gaze down at me. Despite everything, I sighed. I could happily stay like that forever.

  He leaned forward, his mouth against my ear. “Don’t tell her. Rachel can’t find out. Please.”

  I nodded feebly.

  “Take her for me,” he whispered to Amelie.

  I felt a slight jostle and then Amelie was in Caden’s place as my cradler.

  Caden left, dragging the ape man with him.

  I lay in silence, mulling over his plea. Of course Rachel couldn’t find out about the kiss. It would hurt her even if it hadn’t meant anything. If she had a heart underneath that prickly exterior. Highly unlikely. What would she do if she found out? I didn’t want to find out. She seemed like the vicious, jealous type.

  “ … and it killed him?” I heard Rachel saying in her typical detached voice as she strolled in, Caden and Bishop behind her.

  Bishop grabbed my attacker’s leg and began dragging him away, mumbling, “Let’s just make sure.” He glanced at me as he passed by, the same worried look on his face that Caden and Amelie wore.

  “Are you okay?” Fiona asked, crouching down beside me.

  “I will be … when I wake up from this nightmare,” I whispered. I keep forgetting this isn’t real …

  She gave me a reassuring smile—a smile that slid from her face when she glanced up at Amelie. “Do you think she’ll change?” she whispered.

  Change? Does she mean back into my dress?

  Amelie shrugged.

  They both looked back down at me again.

  Amelie’s hand grazed my throat. “It’s so bizarre—all this blood and it could be mud, for all I care,” she murmured, adding, “thank God.”

  What blood?

  “It’s the pendant. It must be masking it,” Caden said.

  Rachel crouched down to inspect my throat. “It doesn’t want her to become one of us.” Those eyes stared at me, in deep thought. “How did they figure it out?”

  “A scrape on her shoulder,” Caden was quick to answer.

  Her eyes slid to my shoulder. She frowned. “Where? I don’t see it. How could they see it?” she asked slowly.

  “I’m as shocked as you.” The lie rolled off Caden’s tongue as effortlessly as if it were the truth.

  I averted my eyes guiltily. As much as I disliked Rachel, I hated lying. More importantly, I was terrible at it.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Do you believe us now?”
/>   Believe … What am I supposed to believe again? I couldn’t remember.

  “I wonder what her blood tastes like,” she murmured, eyeing me curiously.

  “Leave her alone. She needs rest,” Fiona growled, magically producing a cool, wet cloth. She began gently patting my neck.

  As if her words had given a signal, I drifted off to sleep.

  I stared vacantly at the plaster swirls on the ceiling above my bed in Viggo and Mortimer’s room, my body cold and stiff. Why do I feel so weak? Am I getting sick? No. I’d had plenty of colds and flu bugs. This didn’t feel like any of those.

  Max whined, resting his head on my chest, giving my neck a few gentle licks. “Hey boy,” I whispered, struggling to lift my hand to scratch his head.

  The clock indicated noon. I’d slept in. Again. I forced my body to sit up, fighting the overpowering urge to curl back up under the covers. I couldn’t do that. Sofie needed me. Moaning loudly, I dragged the cozy duvet off my body and gave my eyes a good rub with the heels of my hands to help focus.

  Huh … The last thing I remembered was lying down in that gorgeous green satin gown. When did I put on these old sweats?