Cast Into Darkness (2 page)

“Heard anything about the scholarship?” Romeo asked.

“Nope,” Kate said. “But you should be a shoo-in. You kicked ass tonight.”

Romeo shrugged. “Who knows what professors like?”

Brooke, jeans slung low on her hips, silver top skimming her pierced navel, sauntered up to Romeo. “Don’t worry, sweetie. The scholarship will go to one of the leads. Of course, we can’t shine so bright without the support of the little people.” She glanced at Kate, a sly smile on her plump lips.

Kate felt her cheeks flush. She curled her hands into fists. “That’s the thanks I get for saving your sorry butt? Twice.”

“I don’t need a bit player to tell me what to do,” Brooke said.

“It’s not the role, it’s what you do with it that counts.” Kate gritted her teeth. Maybe if she said it often enough she’d believe it.

“Oh, really? What did you do so wonderfully well with your ugly old nurse that I didn’t do better with Juliet?”

“Let’s start with remembering my lines.”

Brooke rolled her eyes and stalked off amid laughter and the clink of bottles. Kate stifled her own laugh, then glanced up at the clock on the wall. Kris said he’d meet her backstage. She scanned the clusters of actors and techies. No luck. Had he gone outside?

She pushed past the crowd and out the door, grabbing a beer from the ice chest as she left. A few smokers wandered off the terrace and turned the corner of the building, their smoke hanging in the air behind them like a forgotten memory. Kate hiked through the ivy toward where she’d seen Brian.

The sooner I give the stone back to Brian, the better. Hanging onto something this magical around Normals sets my teeth on edge.

“There you are.” Kris’s voice, behind her. It tickled her ear and made her insides go all melty. She turned, and he wrapped his arms around her, his silver ring rubbing the back of her neck. His face lit with that half-hidden smile meant only for her. A tremor of delight rose inside her as he tilted her chin up and kissed her, a long, lingering kiss that almost made her forget about Brian and his mysterious stone. Almost.

“So…how’d you like the play?” she asked when she could breathe again.

“Wicked swordfights. I liked you. Good job with that long speech. I’m not so sure about Juliet, though. I wouldn’t kill myself over a girl who couldn’t remember her own last name.”

“How about one who brings you a beer?” Kate passed him the bottle from the ice chest.

“Cold, too. Thanks.” Kris wiped a spot of makeup from her nose. “Can we take off? Some of the others are heading over to a party down on Chestnut Street.”

Dad would
love
that
.
Good thing he’ll never hear about it.
“Sure. Give me a few minutes to change. Want to hang out until I’m done?”

They walked inside—Kris stopping to greet one of the actors, Kate heading toward the door. She glanced back at Kris. He made his way across the room, cutting through the crowd as smoothly as a shark among a school of tropical fish. After setting his beer on a nearby table, he leaned against the far wall, took out his cell phone, and typed a text, thumbs jabbing at the keys. She hesitated, then kept walking.

He could text anyone he wanted. She wasn’t the jealous type.

In the women’s dressing room, Kate changed into her magenta scoop-necked tank and cutoff jeans. The last bits of stage makeup disappeared after a quick streak of a cleanser wipe, and a pucker of lip gloss and brush of mascara made her feel almost normal again. All around her, the rest of the cast filtered in from the party and started the same routine, sitting in front of their mirrors, makeup kits before them, transforming back into their everyday selves.

She reached into the pocket of the Nurse’s dress. As she pulled the stone out, it slipped from its covering. Without thinking, she caught it before it hit the floor, the silk falling from her hand.

A sharp shock twanged her as the stone met her fingers. She hissed, shook her hand, and dropped the stone in her lap. A quick scan of the room proved no one noticed—the other girls were all staring at their own faces in their mirrors.
Typical
.

The black stone lay in her lap, waiting.

Black? Wait a minute
. The stone had glowed white when Brian had handed it to her. She reached for the artifact and paused. Her hand had stopped stinging. Brian had said to be careful, but it’s not like the thing bit her hand off.

She picked it up. No sting, no pain at all. But the stone now burned with the same deep coal color as the beach rocks she liked to skip into the ocean back home in the Hamptons. Kate turned the artifact over, feeling slight depressions in the otherwise smooth surface. Holding it up, she stared into the stone’s depths.

It shone with ribbons of shimmering green, rippling and flashing under the pale white light of the fluorescent bulbs. The room around her—the clink of brushes against the Formica tabletops, the laughter of the other girls, the perfumed smell of makeup remover—faded.

Something intrigued her about the stone’s hills and valleys, its gleams and shadows. They pulled her down into their darkness until spirals of verdant light pierced the blackness and consumed her vision. Their radiance awoke a long-suppressed yearning for the ethereal power she’d been denied. She wanted to stay in the stone’s ebony veil forever.

A door slammed.

“Kate?”

Her fingers snapped closed around the stone. The room came back into focus. The makeup kits, the girls, the costumes—all gone. Except for Kris, leaning against the door, eyes intent on her.

“It’s ten thirty,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for a half hour…. I was getting worried.”

“You’re kidding.” Mouth dry, she glanced at her watch. He was right. For over thirty minutes, while everyone else dressed and left, she’d sat silent and still in the dressing room.

Lost in the secrets of the stone.

Kate remembered taking
the stone out of her pocket. Then Kris opened the door, and… Everything in between stretched into a long, dark blank. Damn Brian for dumping some magical trinket on her like that. How was she supposed to figure out how to protect herself?

“Where did you get that?” Kris pointed at the stone in her hand.

“Um…”
What am I supposed to say? From my brother, the Harvard poli-sci major who moonlights as a magical operative for my dad’s secret cartel? Yeah, right.
“It’s a souvenir. From home. You know, just a beach rock.” She stared down at it, the deep black sheen of it threatening to draw her in again.

His eyes narrowed. “What makes it so fascinating?”

Good question.
“Nothing. I think I’m really tired.” She stood and jammed the stone in her pocket. “Can we skip the party? Just go home?”

“Sure. Whatever.”

He followed her as she jogged up the stairs and into the humid summer night. Kate steered the conversation back to the play and their finals as they walked across the Schwartz Center to her small apartment off campus. She slipped her hand into Kris’s larger one and shivered as he ran his thumb across the inside of her palm. They merged with the flow of students heading out to party, rushing to make it across Dryden Avenue before the light changed. At a bar across the street, a metal band played something loud and nihilistic, while half a block down, a girl in a pink leather mini threw up in the bushes. Just another Friday night.

They turned down Linden and swung up the steps of Kate’s place, a one-bedroom apartment on the first floor of a gray, two-story house. Kris held the door while she collected her mail under the dim porch light, sorting through pizza delivery and ads for spray-on tanning parlors. An official Theatre Department envelope stuck out of the pile. Kate felt dizzy, lightheaded, like all the blood in her body was rushing into her ears. She steadied herself on the doorjamb as they walked inside, then threw the rest of the mail down on her battered desk as Kris turned on the light. Flipping the envelope over, she slid her finger along the seal, hand trembling.
Please, let it be yes.

Scanning the text, she moved past the description of the scholarship program. Tuition, fees, housing, books—everything paid for the next three years provided she kept her grades up and majored in theater. Then she reached the words that made her whole body feel like it was charged with the energy of a thousand suns. A smile burst across her face as she dropped the letter to the hardwood floor.

“I got it!”

Kris turned, startled, at her whoop of triumph. She threw herself into his arms.

He squeezed her tight. “Now you have some real ammunition against your father.”

“Maybe.” Her joy dissolved.
Dad.
He’d never let her accept. He’d still insist she major in premed or prelaw, something that served the Hamilton family.

“Didn’t somebody leave a bottle of wine after your party last weekend?” Kris said. “We can celebrate. Make some pasta.”

Kate joined Kris in the cozy white kitchen as he poured them each a glass of merlot. She started cooking the spaghetti on one of the two working burners while Kris chopped tomatoes on the cutting board, his hand wielding the sharp knife with precision.

She wandered into the living room and picked up the letter, staring at it while Kris finished making dinner. The scholarship would create enough problems with her family. Now she’d have to keep the stone a secret from Dad, too.
I don’t need this crap. I should call Brian. Get him to take the stone back.

No. That would just prove what Dad always said:
Can’t trust Kate with caster business.

Kris came up behind her, rubbing her stiff neck. “Something wrong?”

She shook her head. “I’m just… I have to go home tomorrow, and I don’t want to.”

“Then don’t. Stay here for summer session. With me. What can your father do about it?”

“You don’t understand. He can do plenty.” She stared at the dark, red wine in her glass.

“Maybe. But I’ve got some experience with controlling fathers.” Kris’s voice grew hard. “Sometimes you just have to decide where to draw the line and stay on your side.”

“Easy to say. Hard to do.” Kris’s father might be tough, but he didn’t pull the strings of half the world’s power brokers. Escaping Dad’s control would be close to impossible.

His hand dropped from her neck, and he took a step back. “If you want your independence, you should try. You’ve always said you want to stand up for yourself.”

She spun around. “I
do
. If you knew Dad—”

“How many nights do we end up talking about you and your dad? What about us?”

“This isn’t about us. If it was, I would—”

“What? Introduce me to your family? We both know that’s not going to happen.” He stalked back to the kitchen.

She followed. “The last thing I want is for them to interfere in our lives.”

“They already do. Every time you do what your father wants instead of what you want.”

She braced herself against the tile counter, tapping her foot on the kitchen floor. Kris had no idea what levers Dad knew how to turn. But maybe Kris had a point. If she didn’t act now, she never would. She took a long drink of her wine.

“You’re right. I’ll go back long enough to tell him I’m taking the scholarship and deal with the fallout. But then I’m coming back here for summer session. He’ll just have to deal.”

“Good. We can have the summer all to ourselves.”

The timer went off. Kate checked the spaghetti. “Still a little underdone.”

Kris turned down the heat under the sauce to a slow boil. “Give it more time.”

He moved to stand behind her, his voice near her ear. “I know it’s tough, with your family. I don’t mean to be such a jerk.”

“You’re not. You’re just…intense.” She leaned back into him. “You know, this was our first fight.”

“Not much of one.”

“Maybe not. But it means we can make up.” She smiled as she turned to face him.

He slid his hand down her side, sending a quiver of yearning through her.

“You always come up with good ideas,” he said.

She tilted her head to his as he leaned down to kiss her. He tasted of merlot and a warm sweetness that made her blood pound. His skin smelled like sunlight glinting off the ocean, like some faraway tropical island she wished she could escape to with him. Like freedom.

The timer dinged again, and she turned toward the stove.

“Leave it.” Kris switched off the burner, then drew her back. He touched the base of her neck, leaving her trembling. Unbuttoning his shirt, he shrugged it off. She let him pull hers overhead, his hands trailing up her body. They wandered to her cutoffs, and gently tugged the zipper down. The cutoffs fell to her feet, and Kate looked up at him, hoping he’d see a thousand promises in her eyes. She shivered as Kris slid his fingers under the elastic of her panties, then around and down to touch her so intimately she lost her breath.

She swayed against him. “God, Kris.”

“Bedroom?” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. “Living room? Dining room table? The floor would be fine.”

“Bedroom. Now.”

He smiled. “Whatever you want.”

In Kate’s small bed, on top of her paisley coverlet, she pulled him close and felt his solid form, his muscles against her skin, the heat of him in the summer evening. Answering heat rose deep in her belly.

“Kris,” she said, and he kissed her. All the things she wanted to say to him rushed from her mind. He whispered her name and ran his lips down her neck, her collarbone, and then her breasts. That heat flared into a raging inferno.

She pulled his head up to hers and kissed him again, her mouth giving him everything she wished she could say but didn’t dare. The more she thought about how little time they had left together, the more she wanted him.

They made love, their dinner cold on the stove, and she forgot about everything else. Nothing existed but her and Kris. Before the morning and home.

Kristof Makris ran
his finger down Kate’s cheek, gently sliding her hair away from her face. He watched the slow rise and fall of her chest under the sheet.