Frozen: a ParaNormal Mystery (Cassie Scot Book 7)

by Christine Amsden

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay.” There was a moment of awkwardness during which time Evan crossed through the living room part of the suite and paused next to the bed. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay.” He drew in a deep breath. “Do you think you’ll be able to dream tonight?”

  I bit my lip and thought, once again, of Abigail. She was lost to me forever, probably even lost to my dreams since she could no longer be. Maybe I would dream of Henry, or maybe yet another child I would have to play a game of life-or-death favorites with.

  “I didn’t bring my dream catcher,” I muttered, frankly relieved at the oversight.

  “I could cast the mind reading spell.”

  I shuddered. Not tonight. Not with the thoughts I’d been having about him lately. Luckily, I had a ready-made excuse to refuse.

  “Mr. Wolf said that wasn’t a good idea, that I had to learn to manipulate my own dreams.”

  “That’s true. But after our talk earlier, I’d like to know anything I can.”

  “I’ll try. I’ll – I’ll work on facing my nightmares like you and Matthew keep telling me.”

  He sat on the edge of the bed and rested a hand on my arm; I didn’t pull away, but I was wary of the contact.

  “I don’t want you to have nightmares,” he said, “but you’re the best hope we have at figuring out what’s going on.”

  Damn, but he did know how to push my buttons. “Yeah. I will try. I promise.”

  “I’ll head downstairs for an hour or two so you can relax.” Evan stood, but I clutched his hand.

  “No, don’t go.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  He nodded and began stripping so he could join me in bed. I watched him, even as I fought to find the mental place that would guide me into dreaming.

  He’s right. You need to learn to do this. I pushed away my despair and resentment, focusing on what was at stake: More lives, if I didn’t figure out what the hell hounds wanted and how to get rid of them.

  All I had to do was face my nightmares – those from the distant past and the future. No big deal. Everyone had nightmares, right? I had to relax, focus, and accept.

  The acceptance was the hard part. I’d spent my life relaxing and focusing as part of meditation, grounding, and centering. I continued to do that every day to siphon off excess magic. But acceptance was another matter. I had never been one to sit idly by and watch bad things happen. I tended to get involved, to work to change things.

  Ironically, as a dreamer, if I could accept what I was seeing, I could do much more to change it. Still, acceptance felt too much like … surrender.

  That night I was less relaxed and focused than I could remember being in a long time. I sensed, from my previous dreams, that something lurked on the horizon, waiting for me behind the nightmare shroud, but I didn’t even know how to begin narrowing my focus to look for it.

  Evan held me as I fought my way into sleep, neither of us talking or taking the simple contact further than what it was – a human connection. You are not alone, he was trying to tell me. And I knew he was doing his part to help me relax.

  I tried. I really did. But relaxation doesn’t respond well to brute force. Finally, I accepted that I was unlikely to remember anything tonight, and that I could at least use a good night’s sleep.

  I accepted …

  The dream, what I could remember of it, wasn’t a single dream. It was a series of images, feelings, and sounds. There was my mother crying – no, not my mother. Her twin sister crying over my mother’s body. Mom was dead, but I couldn’t see how. All I knew, somehow, was she’d taken her own life.

  Flicker.

  I saw another child, one conceived tomorrow night if Evan and I made love in the afternoon, at precisely the right moment. This was another little girl, but I refused to name her Abigail, even though Evan wanted me to. She was Belle, and she was never quite right. Her eyes were unfocused and we thought at first that she was blind, but then she demonstrated farsight more powerful than anything seen before on Earth. And she saw beyond Earth – to distant places where she spent so much of her time that she never really connected with those of us close to her.

  Flicker.

  I saw Juliana crying over Mom’s body, her wig askew as her heart broke. Her fingers glowed with her gift of healing, but nothing she did made a difference.

  Flicker.

  Something was glowing beneath the lake. The node?

  Flicker.

  I saw another child, this one conceived next month. A little boy with both his father’s gift of telekinesis and Nicolas’s gift of fire. We tried to bind his powers, but they kept slipping until …

  Flicker.

  A hell hound, its red eyes inches from mine, its teeth dripping with saliva.

  Flicker.

  Another child. She looks just like me.

  Flicker.

  I woke drenched in sweat, around five in the morning. As gently as I could, I peeled myself away from Evan’s still-sleeping form and made my way to the bathroom, where I spent a few minutes trying to drown myself in the shower.

  Well, I’d remembered parts of my dreams. That was something. But I’d remembered dreams like that before – unfocused and flickering. I wasn’t even sure if some of those images might not be normal products of my subconscious fears – i.e., real dreams – instead of visions of the future. It was just a jumbled mess.

  I’d seen my mother dead twice, though. I shuddered at the thought. Whatever mistakes she’d made, whatever trouble she’d been in lately, I didn’t want her dead. I wanted her better.

  Evan was awake when I emerged from my bath, sitting upright against a stack of pillows, the blankets nestled around his waist. His chest was bare. So was mine, but I liked his better.

  I focused on that chest as I worked to regain my equilibrium. The dreams might or might not be real, but that chest was.

  “Bad dreams?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Anything relevant to little Haley?” he asked.

  I started to shake my head, then stopped.

  “Was there?” he asked.

  Thinking back, I sorted through the flickering images – I didn’t have my dream journal with me so I would simply have to remember as best I could. There had been children, half a dozen of them. My mom in multiple poses, but always dead. And then that strange light from the bottom of the lake.

  It was relevant. All of it. I wasn’t entirely sure how, but I felt suddenly certain of that much. It all fit, if only I could see the connection …

  “The children,” I said.

  “You dreamed of more children?” Evan asked warily.

  I tried to ignore him, as well as the ache in my heart as I considered all the children who would never be. I tried to think of them dispassionately, objectively. At least last night I had only gotten flickering glimpses; it was slim solace, but it was all I had. I knew I would always remember the children who might have been. Each one was unique, but they all had one thing in common.

  “They’re really powerful,” I said.

  Evan cocked his head to the side, and I sensed a flicker of pride under his confusion. Of course he would have powerful children, he seemed to be saying. Hadn’t I been paying attention? Ana was a powerful child, too, although one with a naturally gentle gift. Not all of our children would be so lucky.

  “More powerful than you,” I clarified.

  Now, Evan did frown. He was, after all, twice as powerful as he should be. Our children should simply be exceptional.

  “What’s more,” I said, thinking out loud, “I think Maya and Michael are really powerful too. They keep slipping the bindings the family’s been putting on them.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re saying. What does this have to do with Haley?”

  “Everything. Haley probably shouldn’t have any magic at all, yet she does. She’s more powerful than she should be too, don
’t you see? I wonder if there are others.”

  I paused, thinking. To his credit, Evan didn’t interrupt.

  “I think,” I said finally, “that there’s more magic in the world.”

  “Matthew mentioned something about this once.” Evan stood and began pacing. “I can’t remember what he said, exactly.”

  “If there’s more magic,” I continued, thinking out loud, “then that might explain the hell hounds.”

  “How? You don’t think someone could conjure them?”

  I shuddered. “I don’t think anyone has the power of creation yet. Or at least, I hope not. But where does it end? Nobody should have had the power to make it so cold. What did Mr. Wolf say? The human body’s usually warm.”

  Evan glanced at his watch. “I’d love to keep talking about this, but it’s almost sunrise and we’ve still got a job to do.”

  I looked at my watch too: 5:32. The sheriff would be meeting us downstairs in less than half an hour.

  “I’m still missing something,” I mused aloud. Then I frowned, as the memories of my mom’s dead body reasserted themselves in my mind. “My mom’s in danger. I’m not sure when, but I think I need to do something. Now.”

  * * *

  I called Matthew Blair while Evan was in the shower. I told him about my dream, about seeing my mother dead, and asked him to send the empath to her.

  “I don’t care what it costs,” I told him, desperately. That wasn’t the sort of thing you should normally say to a sorcerer.

  “Lucky for you, Belle has flat-rate fees clearly posted on her website.”

  “Belle?” I repeated. That’s what we’d named one of our daughters. Did that mean – was it possible she’d be able to save Mom?

  “She’s my dad’s cousin, actually, not mine, but she’s the best. I won’t charge for passing along the message. I think ten years of visions will continue to suffice.”

  “Thanks,” I said weakly.

  “And speaking of which, what did you see last night aside from your mom?”

  I hesitated, but not because I didn’t want him to know. He needed to know. I just didn’t want to repeat myself. “I’ll share it tonight, at the meeting.”

  “Fair enough. See you then.”

  I hung up just as Evan emerged, toweling his shoulder-length hair. He stopped, tossed the towel into the bathroom, then performed a spell to wring out the rest of the dampness from his hair. I heard a small splash in the nearby sink, and his hair fell in perfect waves around his shoulders.

  “Showoff,” I muttered.

  He looked at me, his blue eyes alight with some emotion I couldn’t identify. I swallowed, nervously; I could usually tell what was on his mind and I didn’t think it was a good sign that right now, I really couldn’t.

  “I want to get downstairs quickly,” Evan said after a long pause. Then, “You could do the same thing.”

  “That’s not a simple spell.”

  “No. But if you tried, you could do far more than simple spells.”

  I opened my mouth, then closed it again and shook my head. We weren’t going to have this argument again. Not now, at any rate. Later, I supposed, it would be inevitable.

  We met the sheriff downstairs and he followed us the relatively short distance to the motel where the Bakers were now staying. I drove because Evan wanted to stay linked to the scrying spell in case they moved.

  We arrived at about seven, then had to wait across the street for sunrise half an hour later. Finally, with sunlight brightening the eastern edge of the sky, we made our way to the correct door. This time, we didn’t have to bother to ask the clerk. Evan’s spell zeroed in on them, and we followed.

  Evan knocked on the door, firmly. Someone inside let out a little shriek and I wondered if the room was, even now, filling with mist.

  “You’ve got ten seconds to open the door or I’m coming in,” Evan said.

  There was a crash, a scuffling sound, and then the door opened, with the chain still attached.

  Evan had no patience for the delay. With a casual wave of his hand, he ripped the chain in two and pushed the door open. Shawn Baker stood there in only his pajama bottoms, eyes wide, breath heaving.

  Sydney lay in the far bed, her back to us, cradling something in a way that suggested she was protecting it with her body and her life – using herself as a shield.

  I felt sick. Whatever had happened, whatever Haley had done, it had been an accident. These people were innocents, and they were being terrorized.

  Evan started to step through the door, but I put a hand on his arm, urging him to stay put. Then I scooted past him, into the room.

  “Please,” I said, making my voice as gentle as possible, “we’re here to help.”

  “You’re here to make sure magic doesn’t get loose in the world,” Shawn said, his eyes still on Evan rather than me. “You’re here to keep it for yourself, even if you have to hurt a little girl to do it.”

  “No,” I said, still trying to keep my voice calm. I think I managed – barely. “We’re here to help you – all of you. Haley can’t control her magic and you can’t help her with it. It happens; many children develop gifts and talents well before puberty and they can’t always control it, even in magical families. My own brother and sister – the twins – have their powers bound.”

  Shawn eyed Evan warily, but his words were for me. “What about your daughter? Did you bind her?”

  “No,” I said, recalling with shame that I had suggested that very thing yesterday. “Ana’s powers are gentle, passive.”

  “So are Haley’s!” Sydney cried, though she didn’t move. She kept her back to us, her body between us and her daughter.

  “There are two dead people who might disagree,” Evan said, and I shot him a warning glare. He wasn’t helping.

  “Mommy,” came a pitifully small voice from Sydney’s other side. “What’s going on?”

  Before anyone could answer, a veil of mist began to form around her, filling the room.

  Evan was inside in a heartbeat, arms upraised, his voice even as he chanted the same counterspell he’d used yesterday.

  I kept talking, ignoring the rotten egg smell filling the room and the fact that it was increasingly difficult to look anyone in the eyes.

  “A binding is painless,” I said. “It’s as gentle as a hug. And it’s not permanent. It can be removed at any time, or even outgrown if it’s a temporary binding, like most children’s bindings are. They slip off during puberty, when the child is more capable of handling their gift.”

  “She didn’t do anything,” Sydney said again. “It’s like Shawn said – you’re just afraid of magic getting out.”

  I stared through the mist and wondered how she could possibly believe that, with this evidence right before her eyes. But she was a mom, and she didn’t want to believe anything bad about her child. I might feel the same way, if the situation were reversed. I only hoped I would face reality.

  “We can do this with or without your permission,” I continued, wincing at the implied threat. But I had to protect the town. It was more important than this family’s feelings. “But I’d like your permission.”

  The fog dissipated. I blinked for a moment, then noticed Evan staring at me, frowning. I think he knew what I intended to do next, but I didn’t care what he thought. It was the right thing to do.

  “Let us bind her powers now,” I said, “and when she’s in high school, we’ll teach her magic.”

  “Cassie!” Evan cried.

  But Shawn had finally decided to look at me instead of Evan. Nice to know I existed, really.

  “You would do that?” he asked.

  Sydney, too, was sitting up and turning to face me. Her mouth was slightly open in shock.

  “I don’t think he’s willing,” Shawn said, nodding his head in Evan’s direction.

  “Cassie, can we talk privately?” Evan asked.

  I almost said no, but I caught the look in his eyes and decided, wisely I think
, that we needed a minute before I summarily outed hundreds of years’ worth of magical knowledge.

  “Sheriff, call us if anything happens,” I said, then followed Evan back out to the car, well out of earshot of the Bakers.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Evan asked.

  “They’re terrified,” I said. “You saw their reaction. But I noticed it wasn’t just about what they thought was going to happen to Haley – they were indignant that she be treated differently from other children with powers. Eventually, Michael and Maya’s power will be unbound and they’ll be taught to use them. Haley’s will either need to be bound indefinitely or – and you know it can happen – if she ever slips her bindings she could kill someone else. You know it, and what’s more, so do they. They’re not stupid.”

  Evan ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit of his. He took several deep breaths, not saying anything for a long moment, and when he did, his words shocked me to my toes.

  “You might kill someone someday too. Think about it.”

  He turned on his heels and walked back toward the motel room while I stared at his retreating backside. Damn. He was right.

  Tears stung my eyes as I followed him back to the motel room. I only just managed to keep them at bay, but luckily, my part here was done. Evan took over the negotiations, agreeing to limited magical education dependent upon Haley’s measured ability at the time so long as she agreed to a master/student blood bond and as long as they understood that certain closely held family secrets would not be disclosed.

  He was a masterful negotiator, and in the end, I think everyone was happy.

  Everyone but me.

  I watched, dully, as Evan chalked the casting circle, lit some candles, and performed the ritual that would keep Haley from hurting anyone else.

  You might kill someone someday too.

  An ecosystem was bad enough; as a naturalist, Evan cared more than most and understood the danger such damage could do. But he was right. I could have killed someone. The difference between Haley and me was that I was old enough to know better. And a simple binding wouldn’t help me.

  Chapter 17

  “ONE WEEK” BY BARE NAKED LADIES was playing on the radio as we reached the outskirts of Eagle Rock. I don’t think I had ever really appreciated that song before, but I suddenly knew just what it meant. I, too, had realized things were all my fault. And I, too, couldn’t bring myself to tell Evan.