I was right again.
I inhaled sharply, surprised by my own reflection. Becca's mastery with a makeup brush had brought out the clear jade green of my eyes, and the mascara made my already thick eyelashes thicker and darker. My pale skin glowed like a lustrous pearl, and my red hair cascaded over my shoulders in a sleek silk curtain. I barely recognized myself. I looked more confident than I felt, like a girl ready to take the world head-on instead of one who was being dragged kicking and screaming into it while wearing shoes completely unsuited for kicking and screaming.
Pulse was the newest club in town, and there was already a line stretching halfway down the block. Being one of the few nightspots for those under the legal drinking age, it was a big hit with the college crowd, and I groaned at the sight. I hated places like this. I always felt so out of place, yet somehow I let my friends drag me here—even on my own birthday—because I didn’t have the heart to tell them how much I disliked it. My feet were already starting to hurt from teetering around in Becca's too tall heels, and I thought longingly of my flannel pajama pants and the stack of DVDs waiting for me at home.
"I don't think we're going to get in, guys. This line is way too long. It's not too late to call it a night and veg out in front of the television," I said hopefully.
"The hell you say," Becca grinned, grabbing my hand and dragging me to the front of the line. She tilted her head so that she was looking up at the bouncer through her long eyelashes and flashed her most disarming smile at him.
"I don't suppose there's room for three more, is there? It's my friend's birthday, and I would hate to see her spending it out in the cold after I insisted that we go out dancing to celebrate." She pulled me closer to her side and wrapped her arm around my waist, fluttering her eyelashes.
To nobody's surprise, it worked.
There wasn’t a person alive who could resist Becca's smile, and before I knew it, the three of us were ushered in the door. It was small, but the sight took my breath away nonetheless. There were long mirrors secured to each of the walls, giving it the impression that there was more space than actually existed. A long dark bar was along the wall farthest from us, and small tables scattered around the edges of the dance floor. The ceiling had hundreds of custom fluorescent blue lights rippling like glowing water, casting light on the packed dance floor onto which Becca promptly dragged us.
I tried to move my body to the pounding beat as Becca danced in circles around me. It took almost no time at all before guys began to gravitate toward Becca. Feeling awkward, I took my chance for escape.
"I'm going to get something to drink!" I yelled to them over the music.
Becca smiled at me and continued moving her body to the music, wrapping her arms around the guy she was currently dancing with. Miguel's attention was quickly diverted as he focused on a good-looking blonde and danced near him, giving him a flirtatious smile. He caught my gaze and winked and waved at me. I flashed him a grin in reply before I made my way out of the sea of bodies on the dance floor and worked through the crowd to the bar at the far end of the room. The bar was already crowded, and I tried unsuccessfully to squeeze my way in when a familiar pair of bright blue eyes caught my attention.
"Hey there," Dom smiled, moving himself to the side and giving me space to step up. "Squeeze on in here or you'll never catch his attention. It's packed tonight."
"Thanks," I smiled nervously back at him, feeling butterflies dancing in my stomach. Up close I could see that there was the tiniest cleft in his nose, as if the indentation in his chin had extended too far upwards.
"Let me see your hand," interrupted the bartender, startling me from my study of Dom's cleft.
I flushed red and thrust my right hand toward the bar, showing the neon green band that indicated my status as an underage patron. "Just a Sprite please," I called, fishing in my too small pockets for the billfold I had stowed there earlier in the evening.
"Make that two," said Dom, his voice deep and resonating. He threw a couple of bills on the bar, accepted both of the plastic red cups from the bartender, and indicated that I should follow him. I wasn't about to argue, so I trailed awkwardly after him, trying not to fall in my heels. I glanced over to where Becca and Miguel were still dancing and caught her eye, flashing a smile and nodding toward Dom, letting her know where I was heading. She winked and gave me a thumbs up. Somehow Dom had managed to find a table with two empty chairs and put the cups on the table, pulling one chair out for me.
"I'm glad I ran into you," he said as he pushed my chair in, his breath tickling my ear and causing an involuntary shiver to ripple across my skin. "I didn't get a chance to ask you your name earlier. Your boss seems like a bit of a dragon lady."
I laughed at the image he presented of Sharon. "That's a pretty accurate description," I smirked. "My name is Cassie."
"So how old are you, Cassie?" He gestured toward my green paper bracelet.
"She's nineteen today!" Becca trilled, appearing next to me and taking my red cup from my hands, taking a deep drink of the sugary liquid, clearly too thirsty to remember her stance on sugar. I scowled at my empty cup as she pushed it back into my hands.
"Oh," Dom smiled brightly, exposing his even, white teeth, and my breath caught in my throat. He should warn people before he did that. "Well, happy birthday, Cassie. Did you get everything you wished for?"
"It's starting to look that way, but there's still time for everything to go horribly wrong," I replied, tapping my fingers on the tabletop nervously.
Becca eyed me suspiciously, her eyes screaming at me to relax and flirt. I shrugged at her helplessly, and she excused herself to go back onto the dance floor. I knew I was going to be in for a slightly milder version of the Spanish Inquisition when we got home and now I wasn't as anxious to leave as I had been.
"Do you want to dance?" he asked abruptly, standing up and offering me his hand. I took his outstretched hand and let him lead me onto the dance floor, praying that I wouldn't trip over my own feet in these torture devices that Becca considered shoes.
I liked to think that I was a halfway decent dancer in my Chucks with both feet firmly anchored on the floor, but I wasn't as confident in my skills balancing on the balls of my feet. Walking back to the dance floor already had my calves screaming in protest.
I didn't need to worry. Dom kept both his hands firmly on my waist, steadying me as we moved to the music. His hands were warm, and standing this close to him, I couldn't help but notice how good he smelled. It reminded me of the Pacific Ocean near Fort Bragg, where my family used to take camping trips in the summers. Even in my four-inch heels, my head barely came to his shoulders, and every time I glanced up, I found his blue eyes locked on mine, making my heart pound so hard I couldn't tell if it was my heart or the music blaring around us.
He leaned down and spoke low into my ear. "So if I asked you for your number, would you give it to me?"
I felt myself flush, the blood pooling in my cheeks. I focused my eyes on the far wall, hoping he didn’t see how nervous he made me.
"If I gave it to you would you actually use it?"
"Why don't you give me your number and find out?" He was definitely flirting with me.
I was out of my league, but with an uncharacteristic surge of bravery, I decided to just go with it. It was my birthday after all, and if he wanted my number, I was going to give it to him. What could it hurt?
"Give me your phone," I said, plucking it from his hand when he withdrew it from his pocket. I hoped he wouldn't see my hands shaking as I typed my name and phone number into his phone before I handed it back to him.
"One second," he said, holding the phone up and snapping a picture of me. "Just like I thought. Your eyes are even greener on screen. I'm a sucker for a pretty girl with green eyes."
I grinned at him like an idiot, pleased that he’d called me pretty.
"I should get back to my friend," I told him. I wanted to stay on the dance floor with his hands back on my waist, but
I was desperate to get away before my luck ran out.
"I'll call you soon, Birthday Girl," he grinned down at me.
"I guess we'll see," I replied, aiming for casual and flirty but probably sounding more like I was desperately pleading instead.
"You don't have to worry about that." He leaned in and pressed his lips to my cheek, letting them linger there until they sent butterflies rippling through my stomach.
I was certain my heart was going to explode if it beat any faster. My cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling so much at him and my feet throbbed. I gave him an awkward little wave and made my way across the dance floor to grab Becca and Miguel and hide before I could do anything to embarrass myself forever. This had been a good birthday after all.
Chapter Three
I kicked off the heels as I entered my room, so happy with how the evening had turned out that I didn’t even throw them in the garbage where they belonged. I stripped off Becca’s outfit and slipped on my big maroon Chico Wildcats shirt, a smile tugging at my lips. I thought about Dom's smile and the feel of his warm lips on my cheek and did an awkward little happy dance. What were the odds that I would run into him after Sharon had run him out of the store?
I was happy with how my day had turned out. It hadn’t turned out bad at all for my very first birthday away from home even though I still missed my family and the fuss they would have made over me. I climbed under my blue and white quilt and turned on the television, letting the reruns lull me to sleep. I closed my eyes, thinking about how grateful I was to have friends who cared about me, even if they were pushy and bossy. They were almost as good as having my family here with me. No girl could ask for more.
The sounds of waves lapping at a shore startled me. My eyes snapped open and I realized that I was no longer in my bed. I flexed my fingers and my toes, feeling something coarse and gritty beneath them, the smell of salt and seawater filling my nostrils. I sat up quickly, my heart racing as I struggled to remember how I had gotten to this place when only moments ago I had been warm and snug in my bed in a locked apartment hundreds of miles from any ocean.
I glanced around, attempting to get my bearings, and found that I was sitting on a beautiful sandy beach. It was still nighttime, and the moon was up, large and luminous in the sky, lighting everything until it was as bright as day. I stared at it and tried to figure out what it was about the moon that seemed so off. I inhaled sharply when I realized that it was far larger than I had ever seen it, filling the night sky. In the distance, I could make out what looked to be a second moon, and I blinked at it, confused. I relaxed when I realized what it meant. This was just all a dream.
I stood up, letting my bare toes stretching and digging into the sand beneath me. My feet didn't hurt anymore from Becca’s ridiculous shoes. The air was warm, and it blew gently, stirring my long hair and brushing it over my face. This place felt familiar to me, and I wondered if I had dreamed of it before.
I walked down the beach, allowing my eyes feast on the scenery around me and marveling at how beautiful it all was. The beach continued as far as I could see, curving gently to my right. The sand was fine and glittering in the moonlight, water gently lapping at its edges. I couldn't see anything in the distance but water and the two large moons. To my left was lush green grass leading to a thickly wooded forest with hills and large snow-covered mountains in the distance. It was so strange to my eyes, so vivid and beautiful, that it almost looked unreal.
I was so absorbed in my surroundings that it took a few moments to realize that I was not alone. I stopped short when I saw the figure watching me.
Standing outside the tree line was a young man dressed in white linen trousers and a loose white shirt open at the neck and cuffs. He had shaggy hair the color of summer wheat curling haphazardly around ears that stuck out a little and a narrow, angular face. The stranger smiled at me in a welcoming manner and walked toward me as I eyed him warily.
He drew closer and I could see that he had wide-set eyes as vivid a green as my own, which were dancing with amusement and crinkling at the corners. I blinked and stared at him, confused.
Eyes exactly like mine. I had never seen eyes like mine before, and I couldn't tear my gaze away.
"Cassandra," the strange man called, his voice deep and melodic at the same time. My heart skipped a beat when I heard my name on his lips. "I am so glad you’re finally here." He walked toward me, all grace and easiness, and I had to remind myself to breathe, chiding myself for being nervous about a strange man in a dream.
"Do I know you?" I asked as he stopped in front of me and smiled down at me familiarly. I frowned at him. He was taller than I was, my head not quite reaching his chin, and I had to look up at him, resisting the urge to stretch onto my toes to get a better look at his eyes.
"Not yet," he admitted, "but I have been waiting for you nonetheless. My name is Aleksander. I am your Caomhnóir."
"My what? What’s a kweevrore?" I stumbled over the unfamiliar word, trying to mimic the way it had rolled off his tongue.
"Your Caomhnóir. Like a guardian or protector," he said, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth from the way I’d tested out the unfamiliar word.
"And what is it exactly you think you are guarding me from?” I asked, my eyes glancing suspiciously over the trees as the branches rustled with a breeze.
"I am not your guard, Cassandra.” He smirked at me as if the thought of guarding me was somehow amusing. "I am your guardian, your mentor. I am here to guide you during your time here in Otherworld." He spread his arms wide and gestured to the lush landscape surrounding us.
I scowled. "Please don't call me Cassandra. Only my grandfather calls me Cassandra. "
"What would you like to be called then?"
"Call me Cassie," I said. "What is Otherworld?"
"All right then, Cassie. It’s hard to describe in mortal terms, but I will try," he said with a grin, reaching out and taking my hand in his.
I inhaled sharply when his hand touched mine. My palm tingled strangely, and a strange heat passed briefly between us. I wondered if he had felt it as well. He caught my gaze, his startled green eyes mirroring my own before he looked down at our hands, studying them.
I was sure he had felt that sizzle too. I was starting to get curious. I couldn't recall ever actually feeling in my dreams before. Unless you counted my nightmares. Somehow I always felt those as if they were real. Was this a nightmare?
When I thought about it, I realized that I shouldn't be able to taste the salt in the air or smell the woodsy aroma of the trees around us. I frowned with confusion. This dream was far too real for my taste, and it was starting to make my head hurt.
"The Otherworld is the land of the Fae," Aleksander explained patiently. He tucked my arm under his, turning and leading me down the beach. The waves swept gently up the beach and over my feet, deliciously warm and again bothering me because I knew that I shouldn't be able to feel the warmth.
"The Fae? You mean like faeries?” I asked finally, trying not to think too much about how disturbingly real it all was even as I relished the feeling of the warm water and the sand. It had been so long since I had seen the ocean, and strange as this all was, I wasn’t in that dark clearing sniveling and waiting to be killed.
"The Fae are...well, for lack of a better term, yes, Faeries. We are what is left of the guardians of the realms of dreams."
He must have seen the look of confusion on my face because he patted my hand reassuringly, drawing me closer to his side as he led me across the glittering sand. My breath caught in my throat. Under any other circumstance, strolling down a beautiful beach hand in hand with a gorgeous man would be happy dream. Instead, I was overwhelmed and felt panic starting to build within me. My heart beat rapidly and my breath sped up as if adrenaline were beginning to flow.
"This place is our home. It lies outside of the mortal realm, on a different plane of existence, but one that runs parallel to it. I know that probably doesn'
t make any sense to you yet, but it will with time.”
"Are you seriously trying to tell me that I'm in some kind of alternate dimension here?” I asked, frustrated and confused. “Oh man, I've got to lay off the Supernatural reruns before bed."
A different realm of existence? Those cheap grocery store cakes were off the shopping list permanently. All those preservatives had probably fried my brain. Becca was right. It was time to go organic. Science fiction and junk food obviously had dire consequences when combined.
"You are a Síofra,” he said, ignoring my outburst.
“Sheefra?” I repeated, stumbling over the unfamiliar word. What weird language was he speaking?
He stopped and turned to face me so quickly that I walked into him. I could feel his breath on my cheeks as he looked down at me, bringing his hands to my upper arms and holding them gently as if bracing me for something important.
"You, Cassandra Matthews, are a changeling."
My jaw dropped as I stared at him, my eyes wide with shock. I thought about the bedtime stories my gran used to read to me. Myths about babies being stolen in the night and swapped for goblin babies or bundles of sticks because they felt like it, and stories about parents who had gone crazy and murdered their babies or left them to die in trees because they didn't believe it was their child.
"Are you trying to tell me that I'm some kind of monster baby you people smuggled into a cradle?" I asked, aghast. "I mean, don't get me wrong. I know I'm not exactly cover model material here, but come on!" Handsome and figment of my imagination or not, he was a lunatic. I tried to pull away from him, but his grip was strong and I made no headway at all.
"No, Cassie," he said, smiling in an annoyingly patronizing manner that made me want to scream. "You shouldn’t put so much stock in human myths. They rarely get things right, and we no longer visit their world to correct them. We don’t smuggle babies into cradles, and you are not a monster. A Síofra is a child born of Fae spirit.
The Changeling (Book One of The Síofra Chronicles) Page 2
