Stolen Dreams
a Cassie Scot novel
by Christine Amsden
Twilight Times Books
Kingsport Tennessee
Stolen Dreams: a Cassie Scot novel
This is a work of fiction. All concepts, characters and events portrayed in this book are used fictitiously and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 Christine Amsden
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, except brief extracts for the purpose of review, without the permission of the publisher and copyright owner.
Twilight Times Books
P O Box 3340
Kingsport TN 37664
http://twilighttimesbooks.com/
First Edition, June 2014
Cover art by Ural Akyuz
Pubished in the United States of America.
Table of Contents
Prologue
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
Prologue
EVAN’S FACE STARED BACK AT HIM from a large glossy poster hanging in the front window of the local post office. The words “Wanted Alive” were splattered across the top in big red letters. Someone had cast an animation spell over it to make his hooded eyes shift slightly, as if in guilt. Evan had seen all that before, but a new addition to the bottom of the poster stopped him dead in his tracks: “One Million Dollar Reward.”
“Crap,” he muttered under his breath. He looked around, more than half expecting an ambush right there on the street, but he saw nothing sinister. He reached within himself for his magic anyway, channeling it into a shield that would protect him from most magical attacks.
A million dollars. This was going to bring out every crazy in the country! He had been fighting bounty hunters for over a month, ever since the wanted posters first went up, but then the reward had only been $100,000.
The Scots were either getting desperate or stupid to try something like this. Rumors already abounded regarding his bottomless reserves of magic, making him out to be some kind of inexhaustible fountain of power. The million-dollar reward would only confirm these lies in the minds of many; which meant that if someone did manage to catch Evan, the Scots were unlikely to get their hands on him. Why would a bounty hunter settle for money when he could have Evan’s magic for himself?
The enmity between the Scots and the Blackwoods had bubbled beneath the surface for years, but it was on the verge of exploding into a deadly serious conflict. Evan had come close to killing the bounty hunter who had confronted him yesterday at the grocery store. The man had slipped some kind of befuddlement potion into a free sample of apple cider. It had tasted funny; Evan hadn’t downed the whole thing, which had saved him from capture. But he had not been entirely in his right mind when he’d ripped the arm off of the man who’d tried to grab him from behind.
The fresh memory made him feel sick inside. Deadly serious indeed. The injured man had survived in large part because he had a partner with some healing skills, but he could have died. Evan had killed once before, in self-defense. It had been necessary. He would do it again if he had to. But the possibility infuriated him that he might have to.
Was this Cassie’s doing, or her father’s? The unanswered question troubled him almost as much as the growing tensions between their two families. The Cassie he’d known in his youth never would have put others at risk for her own personal desires. Then again, that Cassie had not recently learned the truth about what had happened to the magic she’d been missing her entire life.
He should have sat down and talked to her. He wasn’t so naïve as to think that a simple conversation would have fixed things between the two of them, but maybe it could have averted this current state of hostility.
It can’t be Cassie, he told himself for the dozenth time. If she was so desperate to get her hands on his magic, then why had she warned him of Alexander’s attack last September? At the time, he had even allowed himself to hope she still loved him somewhere deep down inside. But then she ran off to Pennsylvania with the man who had betrayed him, and she hadn’t returned a single phone call or e-mail since.
She could have changed her mind since then. She must have, or why put up posters offering a reward for him, and by extension, his magic? All she had to do was tell her father she didn’t want it.
Evan turned away from the poster and was just about to continue down the street when a black Suburban turned into the post office parking lot, cutting him off. He waited for it to pull into a spot, his shields still up, his senses alert.
Robert Scot, Edward Scot’s cousin, stepped out of the vehicle, threw Evan a dirty look, then went around to the back to pull a four-year-old girl out of a car seat. The presence of the child did not convince Evan to lower his guard, though he truly hoped they hadn’t sunk so low as to fight when an innocent child might get hurt.
One million dollars. People had killed for far less, and had allowed children to become victims. Robert Scot was a strong practitioner, on par with Edward, but he didn’t have access to the secrets of alchemy, and he was not a rich man. He earned a good living as a bank manager or something, but one million dollars had to be a temptation.
The two men did not take their eyes from one another as Robert walked into the post office. Robert clutched the wriggling child, who clearly wanted down, to his chest in an almost painful grip. A minute later he was past, and Evan breathed a little easier. He walked away from the post office, heading down the sidewalk in the direction of his Prius, parked a few stores down. He still had errands to run, but in light of what he had learned about the reward, they didn’t seem important.
Suddenly, an explosion rent the air. Evan dove behind the nearby antique shop, his shields maxed out, his senses hyper-alert. When he peeked around the corner, he saw smoke and debris where there had once been a Suburban.
The chubby face of the little girl filled Evan’s mind, and he felt a moment of terror as he wondered whether or not Robert and his little girl had already returned to the car. Practically flying from his hidden position, Evan sped back to the post office and that mockery of a wanted poster, his eyes searching the interior until they fell, thankfully, onto the shocked faces of Robert Scot and his daughter huddled safely inside the building.
Robert’s face didn’t remain shocked for long; it fell into an enraged scowl. Robert shoved the girl into the arms of a nearby post office patron and marched outside to confront Evan man to man.
“You son of a bitch! My daughter could have been in there. I almost left her there while I ran inside, but then I saw you.”
“I didn’t do that. I ran back to make sure you were all right.” More the girl than Robert, but still….
Robert didn’t respond with words; instead he let loose with a torrent of raw energy that battered Evan’s shields until he could scarcely hold them. Raw magic wasn’t normally a useful attack strategy, but powerful emotion could turn it into one for a short time. Another blast like that and Evan would be in tro
uble, but he had no intention of letting Robert get off another shot. He parried the attack with his own telekinetic gift, throwing Robert bodily backward, forcefully enough that he smashed through the wanted poster and the glass window, shattering it.
Evan didn’t wait for Robert to get back up; he ran. He hadn’t caused the explosion, and he had no reason to finish a fight against a man he scarcely knew, but one whose family seemed to want to go to war with his.
The worst part was that someone in Evan’s family probably had done it–they had been muttering for weeks that they couldn’t just let the Scots persecute him. Evan had begged them to give him time, but obviously time had run out.
Robert wouldn’t care whether Evan had been personally involved or not, nor would the rest of the Scots. And maybe they were right. Evan would find out who had done it and set him or her straight, but the damage was already done.
The first direct shot had been fired.
* * *
Five days later, Evan still had no idea who had caused the explosion. Everyone he questioned, from his father to distant cousins, patently denied it. Then again, it hadn’t taken long for news of his ire to make the rounds, so maybe the culprit was afraid. He should be. If Evan accomplished nothing else with his interrogations, he hoped to put fear in the hearts of anyone thinking of pulling a stunt like that again.
Retribution had not come as quickly as Evan had expected, but it would surely come. The only questions remaining were when and how?
Evan got his answers early on Wednesday morning when his cousin, Scott Lee, arrived on his doorstep, looking as if he hadn’t slept or showered in days. There was a fire in his eyes, still tinted the slightly yellow hue of the wolf, reminding Evan that the previous night had been the last night of the full moon.
“Good morning?” Evan made it a question because Scott usually slept the day after the full moon.
Scott didn’t look tired, though, despite his rumpled appearance, and there was venom in his voice when he said, “They took Amanda.”
Scott thrust a wrinkled piece of paper into Evan’s hands. Carefully, Evan unfolded it, pressing the edges together where it had been torn in one place, and read:
We’ll gladly trade Amanda for Evan.
It wasn’t signed, but it didn’t really need a signature.
“How did this happen?” Evan asked. Amanda wasn’t a weakling by any stretch of the imagination, although at eighteen she still needed training. She would probably enter into an apprenticeship the next summer, after graduating high school–if she lived that long.
“They got her at school.” Scott pushed past Evan into the house, and only then did Evan remember he hadn’t actually invited his friend inside. They regrouped in the den, and Evan grabbed a couple of sodas from his mini-fridge. Scott popped his open, but didn’t drink.
“She was staying after school to help with the Thanksgiving Day Parade. It’s the only time they could have done it. At home, she was too well protected.” Scott let out a low growl and threw the untouched soda with all his strength. It collided with a nearby wall with enough force to leave a sizable hole in the drywall, and its sugary contents left their marks on the wall, the ceiling, the floor, and a nearby chair.
“I thought she was protected at school, too!” Scott roared. “She’s got charms and wards, and she’s a damn fine illusionist, too. I don’t know how this happened.”
“We’ll get her back, Scott.”
“Damn right, we will! She was taken Monday, Evan. Monday.”
“Monday?”
“The day after the first night of the full moon. I was with my pack for three days. The timing is too perfect to be a coincidence.”
Evan saw something new in his friend’s eyes then–guilt. Scott considered his monthly transformations to be a serious affliction, one that made him unfit for polite company. Now he had new proof that he was a danger to those around him, or at least not a capable enough protector to keep his own sister safe.
“It doesn’t matter why they took her at the full moon, we’ll get her back. They’ll be blocking our attempts to scry for her location, so we’ll need to pull everyone in. Start making calls. Contact every shirttail relative you can find, and tell them they’ll get to witness my scrying spell firsthand if they can get here by noon.”
* * *
By two o’clock, they had pinpointed Amanda’s location precisely where they had feared–at the Scots’ castle. They ushered the shirttail relatives out with thanks, leaving the core of the family to form a war council. On his father’s side there were Evan’s grandparents and his aunts Violet and Rose, along with their brood of teenagers. Most of the teens had more hormones than sense, although Paul Malloren had sharp eyes that seemed to notice more than they should. On his mother’s side there was his grandmother, Abigail Hastings, his uncle Kevin with grown children and young grandchildren in tow, and his uncle Jack with his grown children (there seemed to be a hole on his side of the room where his youngest daughter, Nancy, should have been). Scott and Amanda had lost both of their parents, including Evan’s aunt Paulette, years earlier.
“We’ve got a lot working against us right now,” Evan began, making sure he had the attention of every adult in the room. “A direct attack would put us up against countless wards and other defenses, not to mention the Scots themselves. Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving, so they’re likely to have extended family surrounding them then. If we do launch a direct attack, it will have to be tonight.”
“If you attack directly,” Abigail Hastings said from her wheelchair in one corner of the living room, “many will die.” She closed her eyes. “Can’t see who. Too much randomness in battle.” It was as straightforward a prophecy as she was ever likely to give, and Evan took it at face value.
“If we could isolate one of them and take a prisoner, then we could try to negotiate a prisoner exchange.” Evan looked to his grandmother for tips on that idea, but she still had her eyes closed. He had seen that look before, when she was looking deeply into the many paths before her. She could stay that way for hours, oblivious to the outside world.
“Who would be the easiest Scot to pick off?” Aunt Violet asked.
“Cassie,” Evan said at the same time as his father. They looked at one another, briefly, before looking away. Evan still hadn’t forgiven his father for what he had done to Cassie, or for not telling him about it, but they had been forced by the feud to set aside their differences.
“Isn’t she in Pennsylvania?” asked Uncle Kevin.
“She’s back for the holidays,” said Paul. “I saw her in town yesterday.”
Evan felt his heart clench, but he tried his best to ignore the implications–namely that Cassie’s return had coincided with Amanda’s abduction. Could the two events be related? Would Cassie stoop so low? He didn’t want to believe it of her, but every time he closed his eyes he saw the wanted posters. She might not have done it, but neither had she stopped it from happening.
“Evan, are you okay?” Victor asked, putting an arm on Evan’s shoulder.
Evan shook off his father’s arm. “Fine.”
“I think the best approach would be to set up an ambush on the road leading to the castle,” Scott said. “Then we can wait for a likely hostage to trade for Amanda.”
“I don’t think you should go,” Evan said. “It’s too personal for you.”
“I’ll go,” Paul said before Scott could reply. Several voices echoed his a few seconds later.
“Am I just supposed to sit here and wait?” Scott asked. “I should be with them.”
“It is his fight,” Victor said. “More than any of the rest of us. He’s not just her brother, he’s her guardian.”
Evan still didn’t think his friend should go, but he waved a dismissive hand and disappeared into the kitchen to put together enough food for a small army. Most of them had missed lunch, and it was going to be a long afternoon and evening.
Several hours passed with no word from Scott or his group
of hostage takers. Evan fed those who remained, but didn’t stay in his large formal living room to entertain them as a good host should. He used the excuse of needing to clean the soda mess in his den, but everyone saw through it. He wanted to be alone.
Near five o’clock, the doorbell rang. It was too soon. Evan hadn’t decided if he hoped Scott’s mission would succeed or not, let alone who he hoped Scott would have taken if it was. Ready or not…
Evan opened the door, but it wasn’t Scott. The man standing on his porch was nondescript, a middle-aged man with brown hair only recently starting to go gray. He recognized the man by sight, although he couldn’t figure out what he would be doing there. Tyler Lake was a member of Alexander’s inner circle who had traveled with him to Eagle Rock back in September. And actually, as quiet as Tyler tended to be, fading into the background, that was about all Evan knew of the man.
“What are you doing here?” Evan asked.
“I’m here on behalf of Mr. DuPris, who has asked me to help mediate this dispute.”
Evan arched an eyebrow in what he knew to be a particularly intimidating manner. “Mr. DuPris was a big part of what started this dispute.”
“Yes, and he deeply regrets his role in the matter. That’s why he has asked me to help.”
Evan didn’t trust this. He didn’t trust Alexander, and never would again, but Tyler was only a messenger. Maybe he even thought he could help.
“Get the Scots to give me back my cousin,” Evan said finally. “Then maybe I’ll talk.”
“Yes, that was a regrettable move on their part,” Tyler said. “I am trying to work with them, but they are understandably angry. It might help if you were willing to sacrifice just a little bit, for the sake of justice. Cassie said–”
“Cassie?” Evan was suddenly alert. “Is she a part of this?” Say no, he begged, silently. As much as he hated coincidences, he wanted to believe Cassie was innocent of wrongdoing where Amanda was concerned.
Stolen Dreams Page 1
