Binds (14 page)

“You did not kill your mother,” he says with absolute conviction. “I know that to be true. I can’t say how I know … you just have to trust me on this. You didn’t kill your mom, Oberon and his son did.”

“Oberon and Donovan? Donovan had something to do with her death?” I am seething. All of those years spent with him, tolerating him, and even loving him before he began hurting me, and the whole time, he was responsible for the greatest loss of my life? And that wasn’t enough for him he had to trap me too?

If this is true, that bastard is going to pay.

Spencer gives me a look loaded with sincerity. “It was Oberon and his son. I am positive of this.”

“But … I saw myself do it and my mom left me messages and one of them was Adomonitio…”

“Warning? Yes, that is something I saw when I looked into your past. It doesn’t mean that you killed her. She was obviously trying to warn you away from the people who did. That warning worked like a charm, didn’t it?”

I ignore the chastisement because he is so far off track with this. “You don’t understand. In the dream, I was outside of it all, witnessing everything that happened. I watched myself fight with my mother, but before that, she looked right at me, not the person I was observing, but me, and she said “adomonitio.” Don’t you get it? Don’t you remember that monster locked inside of me? It makes so much sense to me now, everything that she did. Why my mom kept me away from other Mages, why she put Binds on me to limit my power—I’m some kind of monster capable of doing unspeakable things. I killed my own mother, I harmed thousands of children somehow, and the worst part is that I don’t even know I’m doing it. She was trying to warn me about myself!”

Spencer rubs his chin as he considers my conclusion, “No, that doesn’t make any sense. Remember, I saw the scene in your head, too. She also wrote
noli oblivisci
, and
potestas
. I think she must have realized she didn’t have much time and wrote
noli oblivisci
, but she meant
noli unquam oblivisci
, Latin for never forget and then
potestas
means power through coercion. Put all three together: warning, never forget, and power. You can’t know the specifics of what she was trying to tell you with those words, but I don’t think she was warning you about yourself, I think she was warning you about someone who wanted to use you to gain power.”

As much as I would love for his theory to be true, there is one thing I still can’t let go of. “What about that beast? I know you saw it too. That horrible monster is inside of me, Spencer. It’s contained right now, but what happens if it’s somehow set free? What if Donovan and Oberon know how to use it? What if I’m the reason all of the Mages’ children got put into reformatories—the reason your child did and the reason your wife died? If I did those things, I need someone to stop me. I can’t be responsible for so much wrongdoing.”

Spencer gives me a half grin and even though it’s only half, it feels like the entire sun is beaming down on me. “You don’t have a monster inside of you.”

“I don’t? But then … what was that thing?”

“That monster IS you.”

I sigh. I knew it wouldn’t last. I guess he’s ready to depart from heart-to-heart city and skip back on over to dickhead town. “Whatever Spencer, if you’re not going to tell me about it, I’ll just ask Reece when he wakes up. We’re supposed to work on Binds today anyway.”

There went the half grin; I am now facing down Stone Face McGee. “Ophelia, I’m telling you the truth. That monster, as you have so aptly named it, is you. What you saw was your subconscious manifestation of your Mage power. It looks feral and wild because it has been locked away for so long by all of the Binds holding it down, but every Mage has the same kind of creature inside. It’s not going to break out and cause widespread pandemonium. You are in charge of your own actions, therefore, you will also be in charge of it, once you have control of all of your abilities.”

Well, that is a relief. It’s good to know that I’m not carrying around some murderous master around with me everywhere I go. Although I won’t admit it to him, this conversation has helped me tremendously. I still have questions about my mom’s murder—until I know what happened, I always will—but I believe him when he says he’s positive it wasn’t me. He has earned my trust, a little. The fact scares the hell out of me.

“Now, about this plan for you to work with Reece on Binds,” he starts. “I think it’s counterproductive to try and learn new abilities if you are still hampered down with all of these Binds that keep you from using your power properly. So, first thing in the morning, you are to meet me up on the roof. I need a quiet place to concentrate so I can try and loosen the reins on that monster of yours.”

I wake early, shower and get dressed in some of my new clothes. I can’t believe how liberating it can be to wear non-designer duds, but it is. I smile at my reflection in the bathroom mirror feeling like a new woman, a woman who is about to be liberated from these Binds, as well. There is a bounce in my step as I enter the kitchen to grab a quick bowl of cereal before going up to meet Spencer on the roof. Who knew that having plans to spend the day with Spencer could make me feel this excited?

Cass is sitting at one of the counter barstools nibbling on a pink pop tart when I enter. The food in this place is so healthy. She looks up as I come in and scowls at me. This is the first time she hasn’t looked bubbly and bright-eyed.

“What’s wrong, Cass?” I ask as I pull one of the bowls down from the counter and head over to the pantry.

She gives me an unfriendly look and takes a large bite of her food. Reece walks in before I can question her further and hands me the milk out of the fridge. Cass smiles condescendingly at his arrival. “Hey Reece, did you get any sleep last night? Because I didn’t. Nope, barely any sleep at all.”

I jump in because there’s no reason for her to be annoyed with Reece when it was my fault that she was awakened.

“I’m sorry, Cass. I had a horrible nightmare. I didn’t mean to wake you up, though. It’s not something I do all the time, screaming in my sleep. If you want, I can move rooms just in case it becomes a common occurrence.”

She doesn’t respond to me, but looks in Reece’s direction. “It wasn’t the screaming that woke me up. It was the crying and murmuring sound of voices coming from over there. The next time you feel the need to comfort her after a nightmare, Reece, can you make sure you two keep it down?” She takes a bite of her pop tart and says half way through the next chew, “Thanks.”

My mouth is full of cereal or I would have corrected her assumptions, but he speaks up before I can swallow it down.

“Comforting Ophelia last night?” Reece asks. “I was on duty last night, Cass. Wasn’t anywhere near our rooms until half an hour ago when I went to shower.”

“Ooooh,” Cass says and she turns to me looking sheepish, “I’m sorry, Ophelia, Reece.” She smiles a genuine one with teeth and plenty of dimples.

“Wait a minute, who was in your room then?” Reece asks. I can tell he’s trying to be nonchalant about it as he opens the refrigerator and pulls out a carton of orange juice.

“That would be me,” Spencer replies smugly from the entryway. How does he always pop up at the most inopportune times? It’s like he has some radar in his brain that tells him the best time and place where douchebaggery may occur, and he follows it religiously. He waggles his eyebrows suggestively at Reece, and I have to restrain myself from jumping over the island and wringing his neck.

“It wasn’t anything like that.” I turn to Reece. “I had the nightmare, Spencer heard me screaming, and came to check on me. He wasn’t in my room very long, though, after I calmed down and realized it was just a dream.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Reece says with false flippancy. “I was just wondering—it’s really none of my business anyway.” He shrugs as he goes to take a drink of the juice.

“Yeah, Ophelia,” Spencer mimics. “It really is none of his business. No need to explain what we were getting up to in there.”

Reece pours the rest of his juice down the sink, wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand, and stares around the room uncomfortably. The whole kitchen has become one industrial-sized awkward zone, as Cass starts humming into her plate and Reece taps his fingers along the countertop. Spencer is the only one who doesn’t seem to be bothered; he appears to be enjoying the uneasy situation that he has created.

“Oh God, stop it!” I cry because I can’t take it anymore. “This is ridiculous. Reece, yes, Spencer was in my room last night. He helped me get over my bad dream and then he left. That’s it. Nothing happened with him, just as nothing would ever happen with anyone. I am still a married woman and you—” I turn to Spencer and point my finger at him. “Stop torturing Reece at every opportunity.” I look Reece in the face to make sure he believes me. “Reece, Spencer and I can barely tolerate each other. There is not now, nor will there ever be, any reason for him to be ‘getting up to’ anything in my room in the middle of the night. Even if I wasn’t married, that wouldn’t change.”

Spencer is still smirking like the cat that ate the canary. He winks at me as if my whole spiel was just a cover story, and I throw my hands up in exasperation. Reece is grinning at me too and I have no idea why.

“You said that nothing would change with Spencer if you weren’t a married woman, but you didn’t say anything about me.” Reece’s grin could definitely be considered devilish now. He walks over to Spencer, who no longer looks so pleased with himself, and points his thumb to his own chest. “This guy: still in the running,” he says. If Spencer had said something like that, it would have sounded arrogant, but from Reece, it just seems playful and endearing. Point goes to Reece.

There’s a loud crash as Cass tosses her plate into the sink and walks out of the room with a frustrated cry. She must be as tired of these two posturing around me as I am.

“Enough,” Spencer says. “Are you ready to get to work, Ophelia? I was up most of the morning thinking about ways to work on those Binds. I have a couple of ideas I’d like to try right away while they’re still fresh in my mind.” The false playful tone he adopts while baiting Reece is gone and he’s all business now. If only he would stay like this always, I might be able to respect him more. I don’t get why he insists on playing his games anyway. The only thing I can come up with is that he’s hoping to alienate me from Reece so that he can be the only person I have to fall back on. He seems to be the type of leader who demands singular loyalty. It reminds me of those girls in grade school who insisted that if you were anyone else’s friend you couldn’t be theirs too. Childish.

“I thought we were going to work on your abilities this morning, Fee.” Reece grabs an apple out of the basket of fruit on the counter. Hey, so there is healthy food in this kitchen, it’s just camouflaged to look like a decoration.

Before I can give him an explanation, Spencer beats me to the punch. “Nope, thought wrong,” he says. “We’re going to be working on the roof, in case anyone needs me. Come on, Princess.” He starts herding me out of the kitchen and all I can do is give Reece an apologetic look before I am out the door and heading back to the elevators with Spencer.

We emerge on the rooftop to a beautiful blue-sky morning. The view of the cityscape from the terrace is gorgeous, and I make a mental note to come up at night to check it out. There is a seating area with cushy chairs and loungers and an outdoor brick kitchen. Soft grass surrounds a large children’s play area, complete with a jungle gym and a purple playhouse with a pink-tiled roof and tiny little window boxes full of daises. It’s the most elaborate playhouse I’ve ever seen. The whole area has been kept in pristine condition, as if it is just waiting for the day that the child who played here will return to love it again.

I think about the time frame we are working with. If my assumptions about Spencer’s daughter are correct, based on the clothes that were in her room, she was probably around five or six when she entered the reformatory. If she’s still alive, she’d now be somewhere around ten. I doubt she would even be able to fit in the playhouse, let alone want to still be playing with such things. It makes my heart ache to think about this closed-off man still holding out hope for his little girl to return home. Even if the resistance is somehow able to bring any of the children back, I wonder how much childhood will remain for them, if it still exists at all.

Spencer brings me out of my musings by scooting two chairs together, facing each other and calling me over to sit down.