Chapter 13 #2
He studied me, as though trying to decide whether or not I was lying to him. He made a sound that said he wasn’t sure whether I was or not, but he wasn’t going to make an issue of it. I had the feeling he wasn’t going to let it go, though.
But then he said something far worse.
“You haven’t tried to find him in your dreams, have you?”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“In… dreams?” Raj asked, and his voice was now completely flat. Devoid of emotion.
I glanced up and found his gold-brown gaze fixed on me.
I couldn’t meet it, staring down at my hands.
“Have you?” Ward demanded, taking my discomfort completely the wrong way.
“No!” Of that, at least, I wasn’t guilty. It hadn’t even occurred to me, in fact—but I wouldn’t have tried it, even if it had. I had no desire to enter the subconscious of someone like Yvonne Gates-Adams’s killer.
I knew what it was like to kill, but I wasn’t a killer-for-hire. I didn’t hate Arcanids. And I didn’t want to steal anyone’s magic. I wasn’t like either the killer or Garraway.
And I didn’t have any idea what other abilities either the killer or Garraway had. If they could use a dream to find me. And if they could find me, then they could find Ward and Mason and Beck and Jackson… and I wasn’t willing to risk any of that.
“What do you mean, ‘find him in your dreams’?” Raj demanded, and I could feel the burning of his gaze.
Ward looked over at him, seemingly surprised at the intensity of Raj’s question. “Rayn is a dreamwalker,” he replied. “Some witches have the capacity to… enter into someone else’s dreams. It’s how Rayn found me in the first place.”
“And that’s what led us to Tranquil Brook,” Hart put in.
“I see,” Raj said, and the words were ice cold. Flat.
He pushed himself to his feet, and even though I didn’t look up, I could feel his eyes boring into me. Knew exactly what he was thinking.
“I think we’re done here,” he snapped out, then walked out of the room, waiting politely for Ward to move, but then walking briskly toward the door, the heels of his shoes clicking on the hard wood and thumping across the rugs.
The bell rang, indicating that he’d left the office.
“The fuck…?” Hart hurried out after him. “Thanks, Rayn!” he called back.
There was a moment of silence before Ward spoke again. “I really hope he’s not angry with you for not seeking out either of these assholes,” he said sharply.
I shrugged. I didn’t want to lie to Ward, but I also wasn’t about to tell him why Raj was actually angry.
“Don’t let him push you into anything you aren’t willing to do,” Ward cautioned me, and it wasn’t lost on me that those same words could just as easily have been used to caution me about dating Raj as it was about working for him. I wasn’t going to point that out, either.
“I won’t,” I mumbled back, instead.
“Rayn…”
I looked up at him. “I promise I won’t,” I said quietly.
“Good,” was the last thing Ward said before rolling back toward his office, leaving me to wonder just how badly I’d managed to mess things up.
I had nobody but myself to blame.
I’d known, when I first stepped into his dreams, that it was a bad idea. That it was unethical. That there was no good way for it to end, because sooner or later he was going to find out or figure out that they were more than just dreams.
I’d imagined an argument. Accusations. My fumbled explanations.
None of that had happened.
He’d realized the truth, and that was that. He’d walked out, furious, and I knew we would never speak of it again. That any words that passed between us would be businesslike at best, although most likely cold and hard and empty—although not emotionless. Only anger could be that cold.
I knew that very well.
I’d had an unnatural ability as a child to enrage both my father and my uncle.
My father—unlike my uncle—hadn’t been abusive or physically violent, but he’d definitely had that kind of icy temper that made it absolutely clear that he was furious even if he never raised a hand or threw anything or even slammed a door.
My uncle hit and pinched and twisted. My father hissed and spoke in sharp, clipped words that stung almost more than my uncle’s filed-just-so fingernails.
Rajesh Parikh’s anger had been like my father’s, cold and wickedly sharp.
It cut just as deeply.
There was a significant difference, however, in that I knew why Raj was angry with me—and I also knew that it was fully justified.
What I had done was unforgivable. I’d invaded his mind, his private thoughts, and I’d let him continue to believe that I was a figment of his imagination.
That whatever he said or did was private, contained only within his mind.
Except that it hadn’t been. I’d orchestrated everything—well, not everything. The river, the field, the sweeping arms of the willow—those had been me. The fact that we’d been there, together, was also my doing. But I hadn’t forced any of his words or actions.
The kiss had been his idea.
One in which I’d been a more than willing participant.
Although now it was absolutely clear that he would never kiss me again in his dreams—much less outside of them.
That was more disappointing than I’d expected, although that disappointment was overwhelmed by guilt.
I don’t have a lot of regrets. It’s hard to, when you’ve spent most of your life locked in an asylum.
I didn’t regret that—it hadn’t been my choice.
I’d hated it and wished many times that I hadn’t been sent there, but I didn’t regret any of the actions I’d taken that had led to my incarceration in Tranquil Brook.
I didn’t regret anything I’d done while there, either, although I hadn’t been able to do much.
I’d made a few friendships. Shared a few kisses that had led to passing romances. Taken a lover once, in circumstances that I knew others might find… non-ideal. But I regretted none of those things.
I didn’t regret finding Ward through his dreams, either.
Following the faint trace of magic that I barely understood was pushing back against the spreading darkness that tainted the threads of magic Mason called ‘ley lines.’ It had been…
stronger than the others. Like a bright chime instead of a sour, nasal note.
One I’d tried for weeks to follow, until I’d managed to find him and beg him to save me. All of us.
I could hardly regret that.
I regretted ever pushing myself into Raj’s dreams.
Because in doing so, I’d lost whatever slight chance I might have ever had at finding out what kissing him in real life was like.