Alexander stared at her for long moments before replying, “What I am is insignificant.”
“Look, you brought me here, right?” She lifted a brow and balanced on a hip until he finally nodded. “The least you could do is tell me what you are.” When he stared blankly at her, she continued. “It’s common courtesy.”
“I thought that fell under the exchanging of names.” He was unfazed.
“Alexander?” she scoffed, barely managing to keep her eyes from rolling all over her head. “There’s more than one Alexander, you know. Alexander the Great. Pope Alexander. Alexander, the acne-prone intern at my job who makes cheap passes at me.”
“Alexander Petraeus. There is only one Alexander Petraeus.” He walked over to her. His gaze held hers and Cassie found herself wondering if he could see properly. His eyes were so very pale. They seemed even paler today. “Here.” His voice stunned her so caught up was she in his eyes.
“What—?”
A book appeared before her eyes. Yes, it appeared. One moment she was staring at his eyes, and the next, the book blocked her view. It looked old, from the dark brown, almost black, hard covers and the leather straps that bound it together. It wasn’t overly large, not as large as the spell book her mother had, but it had volume.
“I don’t understand. Why are you giving me this?”
“Take it with you. Keep it with you. Always. You will need it.” His fingertips grazed her cheek, sending comforting warmth where he touched. And then he was blurring, and she became aware of another voice. Someone was calling her.
“Wait,” she cried out, reaching her free hand to him. “You didn’t tell me what you are.”
When she opened her eyes it was to find her mother standing over her, her hand pressed to her forehead with her eyes closed. Cassie blinked. Where was Alexander? Based on the pastel-colored wall, she was no longer in his domain, but back in the real world. In one of her mother’s safe houses.
“Who didn’t tell you what they are?” Evelyn’s voice was calm, but something about the way she asked the question put Cassie on alert.
“I was having a dream.” She didn’t know why, but instinct told her to keep her visions of the man called Alexander to herself.
For some seconds, Evelyn simply stared at her. Before long, a soft smile broke across her face and she removed her hand. “You seem flustered, ma chère. Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” Cassie said quickly, emphasizing how fine she was with a series of rapid nods.
“I know the past days have been hard on you and Vivienne. I wish I could have kept this all—this world—from you, but I couldn’t.” She paused. “I want you to know you can ask or tell me anything, yes?” After Cassie’s nod, Evelyn smiled. “I will be right across the hall.”
As Evelyn left, Cassie shook her head. Only her mother could make her feel guilty for something she didn’t even know about. With a sigh, she jumped from the bed and began a thorough search of her room. Where was the book Alexander had given her? By the time she was through, all she could do was toss herself onto the covers.
Alexander, the arrogant, handsome dream guy had given her a book, and she actually expected it to be in the realm of the real? A weak chuckle escaped her lips. He’d told her he wasn’t a part of her dream, but what the hell was he? He’d also told her about the druids before she’d found out from her mother. He had to be real, relatively speaking.
As she lay there, thinking about the book and its lack of appearance in her room, she remembered a spell Evelyn had taught her. Well, it was worth a try.
The words left her lips like a smooth breeze and she waited. For the zap. Or the pop. Or something. When nothing happened, she opened her eyes. She’d just done a revelation spell, meant to bring forth whatever was hidden. The ceiling was still there. No book levitated before her eyes. With a laugh, she leapt from the bed and looked to the door. She hadn’t eaten since her whole-wheat bread and peanut butter breakfast, and she was starving.
She’d taken a step to the door when she remembered to tidy the bed. Her mother hated messy beds. Cassie turned, intent on doing a quick haul of the comforter over rumpled sheets, and froze. Her breathing might have stopped, too, because in the next instant a whoosh of breath left her body and she was gasping.
The book lay in the middle of the bed, flipped open. Moving closer, she peered at perfectly scripted writing on the rustic yet pristine page.
“Banishments and Resurrections,” she read aloud.