Stolen Dreams

by Christine Amsden

  “On the next one, I want you to push,” the doctor said.

  Beads of sweat dotted Kaitlin’s forehead. A nurse handed me a damp cloth and I wiped them away, feeling a sense of déjà vu as I did. I shook off the feeling, concentrating on helping Kaitlin breathe.

  “One more push,” the doctor said.

  “Hear that?” I said. “One more.”

  She clenched her teeth together so she wouldn’t make useless noises, and strained.

  “I don’t think I can do this,” she cried.

  “You can. Don’t give up.”

  Suddenly, a look of mingled relief and wonder broke across her face, even as the sound of an infant wailing filled the room.

  “It’s a bo–Ow!” The doctor placed the tiny, gooey bundle on its mother’s belly. The baby lifted its head slightly and gazed at his mother for the first time.

  “Hello, Jay.” Kaitlin placed a hand on the baby’s head. Tears streamed down her face, but she wasn’t crying.

  I felt dampness on my cheeks as well, and as I wiped it away, the feeling of déjà vu returned, much stronger this time. This scene was so eerily familiar… a boy… Jay. Just like in my dreams. Of course, Kaitlin had thought she would have a boy, and why not name him Jay when his father was Jason?

  “Isn’t he beautiful?” Kaitlin whispered.

  “I need to put him on the scale,” a nurse said. But when she took Jay from his mother, the baby kicked hard enough I heard bones crack. The nurse screamed and dropped the baby back into Kaitlin’s arms.

  I shook off my unease, and my silly musings. Here, now, in this moment, people needed my help, beginning with a poor middle-aged woman whose arm now hung at an unnatural angle.

  “I’m going to need to call in reinforcements,” I said.

  Jay was screaming and thrashing wildly; Kaitlin’s eyes were as large as saucers, and she held the baby at arm’s length.

  “What’s going on?” Mrs. Meyer asked from the doorway.

  “What do I do?” Kaitlin asked.

  “My arm!” the nurse cried.

  The other nurse–there were two, one for the baby and one for Kaitlin–took hold of the first. “Let’s get you to the ER.”

  The doctor, meanwhile, had taken a few steps way until his back was against the wall. Useless man. No wonder Linda Eagle spoke so poorly of him. It had been hard to know if she meant this doctor in particular or doctors in general, but now I suspected she meant both.

  “Try nursing him,” I said to Kaitlin.

  “Are you crazy?” Mrs. Meyer said. “He’ll break her ribs!”

  Ignoring her, I focused my attention on Kaitlin. “You’re still residually channeling his gift.”

  “What does that mean?” Kaitlin asked.

  “It means we have a few hours before we need to do a binding on him. In the meantime, you’re as strong as he is. You can do this. And nursing will have a calming effect.”

  Kaitlin still looked dubious, but she parted her hospital gown, which opened in the front, and clumsily tried to get the baby to latch on. Since I had a feeling the hospital’s lactation consultant would have heard what happened to the pediatric nurse and wouldn’t come near Kaitlin’s room, I helped as best I could, using what I had learned from watching my own mother nurse eight babies after me. It took a few minutes of trying, but we finally got things working.

  When I looked up, neither doctor nor nurses were anywhere in sight. Mrs. Meyer remained, watching her daughter and grandson with mingled fear and fascination.

  “Does that hurt?” Mrs. Meyer asked.

  Kaitlin shook her head.

  “Oh.” Mrs. Meyer laid a hand on her daughter’s head, gently pushing a few strands away from her face.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said. “I’ll just call Nicolas to do a binding.”

  “I can do one,” said a deep voice from the doorway.

  Kaitlin’s face went white. I spun on my heels, thinking I knew the owner of that voice, but unable to believe he had come.

  “Jason,” I whispered.

  Jason strode forward, his eyes fixed on the baby suckling at Kaitlin’s breast. I stepped aside when he reached the bed.

  “Are you a vampire?” Kaitlin asked in a barely audible voice.

  Jason laid one large hand on the baby’s head, stroking gently. “I need candles, Cassie, and a cutting of ivy if you can manage it.”

  “I can manage it,” said another deep voice from the doorway. This one I knew as well as I knew my own. Evan stood there, leaning against the door frame, carrying a satchel that I knew carried common spell components.

  Jason turned slightly, nodded once at the newcomer, then turned his attention back to the infant.

  “Xavier’s been here,” Evan said.

  Jason flinched.

  “Evan, don’t–” I said.

  “He threatened to kill Cassie if she gets near you,” Evan said. “Now I’d like to help you out, but if it comes to a choice between you and her….”

  “I get it,” Jason said.

  “So, tell me what’s going on,” Evan said.

  “If I do that, he’ll kill you too.”

  “I see,” Evan said.

  Jason shook his head. “I doubt it. Let’s just do the binding, and I’ll leave everyone alone.”

  “You’re leaving again?” Kaitlin asked. “Why’d you come back?”

  “For the same reason I’m leaving,” Jason said. “For you.”

  21

  A SENSE OF URGENCY.

  Somewhere in Evan’s large mansion, a grandfather clock chimes twelve times. Too late. Much too late.

  Rewind.

  Evan opens a secret panel in the wall of his master bedroom, to the left of the armoire. Inside is a book entitled Magical Transference. He sets it on the table near the fireplace, in front of me.

  I touch the black leather binding, then run my fingers along the gold-embossed letters. Evan says something, but I don’t hear him. I am aware only of the book, and of winning. I have won. Everything I’ve ever wanted is right here in this room.

  But the room turns black.

  “Evan!” I shout.

  No answer. He’s not here. Nothing is here. The dream is over, or is it? A nightmare hides behind a curtain, a nightmare I can’t reach because….

  Fast forward.

  A sense of urgency. Somewhere in the mansion, a grandfather clock chimes twelve times. It’s too late. Much too late.

  Rewind.

  Evan is naked, lying above me, leaning over me, an unmistakable look of triumph in his eyes. He leans forward to kiss me, but I push him away.

  “No!”

  The dream goes black. There is no longer a dream. Perhaps there was a nightmare, but it is caught in the gossamer web of the dream catcher.

  A sense of urgency.

  Somewhere in Evan’s mansion, a grandfather clock chimes twelve times. It is too late. Much too late.

  Rewind.

  Evan is naked, lying above me, leaning over me, an unmistakable look of triumph in his eyes. It is the triumph that alarms me. But why? It is only a dream, and I know Evan well enough to visualize him in this situation.

  Only a dream….

  A dream….

  Dream….

  Let it happen. Enjoy it.

  Evan has removed my clothing as well, and I can feel his bare skin against mine. It feels so good. He hasn’t kissed me yet, but I don’t need his kiss to feel this way about him. It’s almost better if he doesn’t kiss me. This is more real, more natural, and more myself. His bare skin against mine feels like heaven, and I wonder why I have denied myself his touch for so long.

  “You’re mine,” he says. I’ve heard it before. It’s his way of feeling in control, but I know the truth. He says it because he’s afraid it’s not true.

  Is it true? Only I can decide. Which is why he is afraid.

  * * *

  I woke with my heart racing and my body thrumming from unquenched desire. Three nights in a row of
dreaming about Evan without his clothes on. Did everyone else have those sorts of dreams, or was it just me? I doubted I would ever ask.

  I dutifully record the details in my dream journal, which was the only thing I had unpacked before crashing the night before. When we left the hospital after midnight, I hadn’t expected that Evan would still insist I stay with him, but he did. He apparently hadn’t slept the night before, just stayed in the driveway watching over us while we slept. That would explain his unchanged clothes.

  I was in one of Evan’s guest rooms again, right next door to Madison, who had fought Evan’s “request” for her to move in with him every inch of the way. In the end, I’d had to pack for her, and when Evan showed her to her room, she’d slammed the door hard enough to crack it. Then she started sobbing.

  Evan had wanted to go in after her but I put a hand on his arm and shook my head. This was her moment to fall to pieces, one I knew she needed. It wasn’t something anyone else could do for her.

  When I finished writing the intensely personal and embarrassing details of my dream in the journal, I strapped on my potion belt and headed downstairs. It was late. I had slept in, and when I reached the kitchen, I found a brief note from Evan.

  Taking Madison to the hospital to help Kaitlin. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Back soon.

  Love,

  Evan

  It sounded so personal. So domestic. It reminded me that James Blair might even now be back in town.

  I shook off the thought as I prepared breakfast. Evan returned when I finished eating, and then it was time to complete the task we had begun the day before. Today I would have to talk to Victor, and hear what he had to say.

  * * *

  Victor wasn’t hiding nearly as far away as I would have guessed. He was hiding, in fact, in the last place I ever would have gone to look for him. Which, I suppose, was the point. I just couldn’t believe Henry Wolf had gone along with it.

  That’s right. Victor Blackwood was staying with Henry Wolf, in his two-bedroom shack that didn’t receive any of the modern conveniences the rest of us took for granted. Henry Wolf, or Master Wolf as his former students continued to call him, was of the opinion that modern technology interfered with magical energies. If anyone else agreed with him, I had never met him. Or her. Evan just thought he was a product of a long-ago time and feared change.

  Regardless of his reasons for eschewing the finer things in life, I would never have expected Henry Wolf to harbor a killer. I told him so as soon as I got over my shock.

  To my surprise, a faint sheen of tears welled up in the old man’s eyes. “I loved all my students,” he told me, “but your father was one of my special favorites.”

  “Then why are you aiding and abetting his killer?” I asked.

  “Cuz I love him, too, and I know he wouldn’t have done it on purpose.”

  “So you buy into this third party theory?” I asked.

  “Yes.” He didn’t hesitate, and his eyes connected unnervingly with mine.

  “He’s still a killer,” I said.

  “So was your father. I told ‘em both to patch this years ago, but no one ever listens to me.” Mr. Wolf looked between the three of us. “Well, it’ll be best to leave you three alone for this.”

  “You’re leaving?” Victor asked suddenly.

  “Yep,” Mr. Wolf said. “Now you just do what I tell you for once and tell ‘em the whole truth.” With that, he strode heavily out the door, closing it firmly behind him.

  Evan and I both turned to his father, who sat in a rocking chair near the fireplace, the only source of warmth in the cabin. His eyes were haunted, the look softening his face and making him look almost human. I looked away.

  “What truth?” Evan asked. He didn’t sit, but instead stood near the fireplace, directly in front of his father, looking down at Victor. He looked more his age than usual, and I guessed that he wasn’t taking his rejuvenation potions any longer.

  “About what happened twenty-four years ago.”

  I was suddenly alert. Not that I would believe a word he said about it, but I desperately wanted to hear the story.

  “You mean when you held my mom prisoner, and my dad rescued her?” I asked.

  “Is that what they told you?” Victor stared into the fire.

  “What do you think happened?” I asked.

  “I let her go.”

  I snorted my disbelief.

  Victor finally turned to look at me. “Why do you suppose, after everything we did to one another, that your father still owed me a debt?”

  I had no answer for that.

  “You want to hear what happened, or don’t you?” Victor asked.

  Yes, but not from him. I wanted to hear it from my own father.

  “I do,” Evan said, speaking up from beside me and laying a comforting arm across the back of my waist.

  “It’s not what I came for,” I said. “I was going to ask him about the attack.”

  “In that case,” Victor said, “it all started over twenty-five years ago.”

  “If this story is some plea for forgiveness, you can just forget it.” I sat down heavily on a nearby recliner and waited, but whether for truth or a flight of fancy I had no idea. I would easily have dismissed every word coming out of the man’s mouth if Henry Wolf hadn’t all but vouched for him.

  Victor chuckled softly, an entirely mirthless sound. “I wouldn’t forgive me, if I were you.”

  “So, what happened?” Evan asked.

  Victor closed his eyes. “Edward and I were best friends. We were the same age, in the same grades at school, and we even both apprenticed under Henry Wolf at the same time. He doesn’t usually take two at once, but we were inseparable. A lot like you two.”

  I started. “Evan and I were never inseparable.”

  Evan sat beside me, perched on the arm of the recliner, and took my hand in his. “Only because I spent three years with Henry Wolf, and he wouldn’t let me near any girls.”

  “We weren’t that close in high school either,” I said. “Not after you stopped speaking to me because I asked you about putting love spells on girls.”

  “Weren’t we?” Evan asked. “Or were you just confused because I finally had some friends of my own?”

  “I–” I had no idea, and I didn’t want to think about it right then. “So you were best friends,” I said to Victor. “What happened?”

  “We traveled to Europe after we left Master Wolf. Spent several years there, bumming from place to place. I’m not sure what we were looking for. Adventure, perhaps? Knowledge? A chance to prove our own worth? Whatever we were after, we thought we’d found it in London, when we became involved with the Order of the Golden Dawn.

  “The group is hard to describe. There are circles within circles, and more levels of secrecy than I can possibly count. Some of them are just for show, but Edward and I managed to work our way into some of the deepest circles, thanks to sheer talent. That’s where we learned about alchemy.”

  “Someone just randomly taught you alchemy?” I interrupted. I couldn’t believe it. No one would do that.

  “I wouldn’t call it random,” Victor said. “The man who taught us was very old. Dying, in fact. When we found him, he was on the verge of destroying his life’s work because his own children, he believed, would never be able to handle the secrets he’d learned. Edward and I convinced him that we were viable alternatives. That we could be trusted never to let the information fall into the wrong hands.

  “He gave us the real tomes, and passed copies onto his children. The copies contained enough true spells that if they suspected a switch, it might take them years to figure it out. I don’t know if they did. I never met them, and am not even sure the old man gave us his real name.”

  Victor stood at this point and began to pace. “When we returned to Eagle Rock, we were full of power and high on life. I imagine we looked like excellent targets to Belinda Hewitt.”

  Victor drew in a deep breath. �
�She played us, and in more ways than one. She tore at the bonds of our friendship, leaving them weak. We should have been able to recover, but when she was done playing with us she offered to gift us each with a bought-and-paid-for wife.”

  Victor looked directly at me. “I took her up on the offer. Edward did not. Maybe he was the better man for it, but I had no intention of mistreating my wife. I-um-I fell in love with her the moment I saw her.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “What do you mean, wife? You weren’t married.”

  “We were,” Victor said. “That was kind of the point. I was ready to start a family. I’d always wanted a lot of kids, and now I had a legacy to pass on to them.” His face darkened in remembered pain, and he scowled. “I only had two in the end, and one of them I didn’t know about until she was eighteen years old.”

  Evan squeezed my hand, I think as a warning not to speak, but I didn’t need it. I couldn’t bring myself to feel the least bit sorry for the man, but I wouldn’t interrupt his moment of pain either.

  “Sheila was an emotional wreck,” Victor said. “I didn’t realize how badly her situation had affected her when I married her. She spent most of her days crying. Nights too. I tried everything I could think of to make her feel better–mostly gifts. I gave her a house, and let her furnish it however she liked. I gave her a car. Taught her to drive. Took her traveling across the country. Nothing worked.

  “Then one day, about five months after we married, her surviving sister found us. She was hugely pregnant, which was probably what gave her the power to escape. I believe Jason did turn out to be a powerful sorcerer.”

  “He did,” I agreed. I only hoped he wouldn’t end up turning into a powerful vampire.

  “Sherry tried to steal Sheila way from me in the middle of the night. I got angry. I scared both of the women. Sherry ran away before I had a chance to really talk to her. I would have welcomed her, if she’d told me her story, but she had convinced herself sight unseen that I was just like the man who’d drained and raped her.”

  She probably had a point, I thought. I didn’t say it out loud though, and not because I didn’t want to interrupt his story. I didn’t really want to know whether or not my mother had been willing with Victor.