Secrets and Lies (Cassie Scot) (13 page)

A few minutes later, I had dinner on the table, and the two of us ate in silence. Evan started to look better as soon as he began sipping the tea. By the time he finished eating, he looked almost like his old self again.

“What did you learn today?” Evan asked.

Only that there wasn’t any point in me continuing this case, but I wasn’t sure how to broach that subject.

“Cassie?” Evan said. “Are you okay?”

I forced my eyes upward to look into his, seeing the tender concern. If only he was a bit more selfish, I could make myself hate him. Then everything would be easier. But he did care about me. He had his faults, arrogance and a thirst for power chief among them, but he would never hurt me.

So why did I keep resisting? It wasn’t as if there were any point. He would give me time, try to make me come to him on my own. But ultimately, if I resisted for too long, he would use that power he had over me to compel me.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. I had been attracted to Evan for years, after all. So what did it matter if I let him protect me, even if he did it out of pity rather than love? Even if I became the weaker, subservient partner? What did it matter if I let him take care of me? Perhaps the idea of finding out who I was and what I wanted was little more than existential nonsense.

My insides twisted. No, it wasn’t nonsense. I would suffocate in an unequal partnership, but I needed to find some way to rationalize things because in the end, I had no choice.

“Cassie?” Evan repeated.

I wanted to bolt for the door, but ignoring the situation would not make it go away. It was time to face it, head on.

“Is there someplace more comfortable we can go to talk?” I asked.

“Yes.”

If he was surprised by the request, he didn’t show it. He only rose and led me to his den, where he sat down heavily on the leather sofa. He would still need a good night’s sleep to recover completely, but the nap in the car and the food seemed to have done him a world of good. No one looking at him now would think he looked vulnerable. It’s possible my perceptions of him were skewed, but there was something in the way he held himself, something in the set of his jaw, and something that seemed to crackle in the air around him.

“What do you need to talk about?” Evan asked.

“You, and me.”

“I see.” Something flickered in his eyes, a sort of wariness, but it was gone almost as soon as I saw it. “Is this about our argument?”

“Sort of.” I shifted uncomfortably, trying to figure out how to ask the blunt question I knew I needed to have answered.

“Maybe we could put it off until tomorrow?” Evan suggested. “It’s been a long day, and I don’t want to fight again.”

He didn’t say it, but of course, he was tired. This probably wasn’t the best time, but the deep despair I felt could not wait another minute to learn the truth. At least, then, I could deal with it.

“Will you just answer one question for me first?” I asked.

“What?”

“And I need the truth, no matter how bad it is.”

“I haven’t lied to you.”

“I know, but this is important.” I hesitated. “Just promise me, you’ll tell me the truth.”

He nodded. “Fine, I promise.”

I took a deep breath and plunged in. “Do you intend to let me go?”

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the black leather sofa.

“Evan?” I asked, tentatively. “You promised you’d tell me the truth.”

“I told you, I’m not as nice as you think I am.” He leaned forward and gazed at me intently.

“What does that mean?”

“It means no, Cassie. I don’t intend to let you go.”

“Oh.” Well, I’d known that, hadn’t I? I’d certainly guessed at it, but hearing it, without restraint, the unvarnished truth, straight from his lips... it was different. Now, it was real. Now, it was inevitable. I had two options, as I saw them: A futile fight, or a graceful surrender.

It wouldn’t be so bad
, a traitorous part of me said.
Look at him there, even off his peak, with those penetrating blue eyes boring into your soul.

This wasn’t a stranger. This was a man who knew me almost as well as I knew myself. And I wanted him. I’d wanted him since I’d known what it meant to want a man, and especially since I knew what it meant to kiss
this
man.

And a part of me had thrilled at his possessive words; I couldn’t deny it. What did free will matter in the face of all that?

It did matter, though. It mattered a lot. It was just... hopeless.

“Cassie?” Evan said.

I shook off the fog of thought, and flashed him what I hoped was a convincing smile. “Thanks for being honest.”

“That’s it?” He had the look of a man given a last-minute reprieve on a death sentence.

“You’re well within your rights.”

“Yes, but–”

I didn’t let him finish. Sliding gracefully away from the recliner I had claimed, I crossed the distance to him in a few purposeful strides. Then I lowered myself into his lap, and wound my arms around his neck, giving him an excellent view down the front of my v-neck shirt.

“Cassie,” Evan said, not looking at my face. “Maybe we still need to talk.”

“There’s nothing more to say.”

He licked his lips. Beneath me, I could feel his rising desire, even through two layers of clothing. I shifted slightly, to a more comfortable position.

“Cassie.” His voice sounded hoarse, unsure. He looked into my eyes for a moment, his own gaze reflecting both longing and uncertainty. Seeking permission.

“It’s okay,” I assured him.

He lifted a hand, running it through my hair. Then the hand went to my cheek, dancing across it in a feather-light caress. His fingers brushed my lips. He didn’t kiss me, but an electric tingle sparked in the wake of his touch.

His hand slipped lower, barely touching the swell of one breast through layers of cotton and lace. I couldn’t see into his eyes, but I felt the tension in his muscles and heard the slight hitch in his breathing.

He wanted me. It was a heady feeling.

“How does this feel?” he asked.

It felt good. Amazing. Better than that. There really were no words. But nerves were getting in the way. This step seemed so final, and binding. I’d never done it before, because it had always seemed so serious to me. Not that I was a saint or anything, but where my body led, my heart would follow.

“You could kiss me,” I suggested. Then I could forget my nerves. I could forget everything, except Evan.

“Not right now. I need you to be able to tell me what you want.”

“What I want?” I pulled away slightly. “I want whatever you want.”

His hand froze over my breast. He didn’t move it, but he did look questioningly into my eyes. Then he shook his head, as if trying to cast off the remnants of a dream.

“This isn’t right.” He withdrew his hand, reluctantly.

“Of course it’s right.” I pushed myself closer to him. “It’ll be better this way. You won’t have to make up excuses for us to spend time together. It’ll all be out in the open.”

“Excuses?”

“Like going to the camp today.”

With that, Evan pushed me firmly, but gently, off his lap. He took a few deep, steadying breaths before turning to look at me. “What makes you think going to camp was an excuse? There are two lives at stake, or did you forget? What did you find out, anyway?”

I buried my face in my hands. Clearly, he wasn’t going to make this easy. “Just that it’s useless. What am I supposed to do, if magic can’t help? If a hundred volunteer searchers can’t help?”

“Look at me.” It was an order, and I had to obey. He studied me, intently, even going so far as to pull my lower eyelid down. “It’s not a spell.”

“What’s not a spell?”

“This. The way you’re acting.”

“How am I acting?” I asked.

“Did you eat or drink anything today?”

“Just the water.”

“Where are the bottles now?”

“There’s one on the counter. I threw the empty one in the recycle bin.”

“Wait here.”

Evan left me alone to wonder what in the world he thought had happened to me. Poison? A love potion, perhaps? Ridiculous.

He was gone for a full half-hour, leaving me to wish desperately that he hadn’t ordered me so explicitly to stay put, especially since it meant I couldn’t even rise to use the bathroom. I’m sure he hadn’t meant it that way, but he would have to learn to stop throwing around careless phrases. Either that, or we would have to get married. Finally, just when I was considering testing my voice against the size of the house, Evan returned, carrying an empty water bottle.

“Hopelessness,” Evan said.

“It does seem that way. I have to do anything you tell me, after all, including sit here like an idiot when I desperately need to pee.”

Evan grimaced. “Sorry. Go.”

I sped away, returning a few minutes later to see Evan still studying the bottle. “Was there something in my water?”

“Yes. Hopelessness.”

I
MET EVAN ON THE FIRST
day of first grade. I didn’t notice him right
away because I was surrounded by friends and acquaintances I’d known since preschool. A few kids gave me dirty looks, but I never had any problem ignoring them. They usually had parents who hated mine or were very suspicious of magic. In a small town, no child is truly born with a clean slate in the minds of his peers, or even his teachers.

Our teacher, Mrs. Chase, was an unknown quantity. When she walked in, looking ancient to a classroom full of six-year-olds (though she was probably only forty or fifty), she gave the class a friendly enough smile. She wasn’t what you would call attractive, but she looked pleasant. She had short, curly hair and a small frame that made her seem a little less intimidating to her short students.

She gave us the usual, innocuous introduction and then started to take attendance. The third name she called was Evan Blackwood, but when she read it, her smile faltered.

“Here,” called a small, timid looking boy on the other side of the classroom.

“Are you Victor Blackwood’s son?” Mrs. Chase asked.

“Yes,” he told her.

Mrs. Chase’s frown deepened. “Your father was a holy terror. His family practiced black magic. Does he still?”

I turned to look more fully at the boy, whose face shone with confusion and trepidation. “I-um, I’m not supposed to do magic at school.”

The rest of the class laughed, but I didn’t. I could already tell that this teacher was going to be a problem, and while I knew I could handle it (I’d done it before when a preschool aide got nasty with me), my heart went out to this boy. It was his first day of school, and so far he had done nothing wrong. I decided then and there that we needed to stick together.

Evan’s eyes shot around the class of laughing students until they finally found mine. I smiled at him and after a faltering moment, he managed to smile back. He’d manage, I decided.

“Go sit at the back of the classroom,” Mrs. Chase told him, when the laughter had died down. Then she continued with the roll call.

When she got to my name, I was quite prepared for her reaction. “Cassandra Scot?”

“Here!” I called, throwing my hand into the air.

“Lord, not another one. Please don’t tell me your father is Edward Scot.”

“Okay, I won’t,” I said, smiling brightly. I winked at a couple of my friends. Most of the class chuckled appreciatively.

“Don’t get smart with me, young lady,” Mrs. Chase said.

I never did understand that figure of speech. “Do you want me to be dumb?”

“Go sit at the back of the class with Evan,” Mrs. Chase said, almost ferociously. When I began to obey she added, “And I do hope your family has also instructed you not to use magic at school.”

She couldn’t have given me a more perfect opening if I’d planned it for her. Giving her my brightest smile yet I said, quite deliberately, “No, they didn’t.”

The class giggled, a less enthusiastic chorus than before.

Back then, I didn’t tell people I had no magical powers whatsoever. Let them assume. Let them wonder. Sometimes letting people believe what they liked gave me a strange sort of power.

When I sat down next to Evan, though, I decided I would need to be honest with him if we were really going to watch out for one another.

“That was great,” Evan told me. “I guess I sounded kind of dumb.”

“Nah,” I said. “I think everyone’s afraid of you.”

We were certainly getting quite a few looks as we continued our whispered conversation at the back of the class.

“Uh oh.” Evan looked concerned.

“Have you been to school before?” I asked.

He shook his head. Even then, I could tell he hadn’t spent much time with other kids. “Are they scared of you?”

“Some,” I said. Then I hid my face behind my hand to make sure only he could hear the rest of what I had to say. “I let them be scared. They’re too scared to be mean to me. But I don’t have any magic.”