The Power Page 0,17

this isn't exactly the perfect moment," he said ironically, transferring his gaze to the wallpaper. "But the way things are going we may all be dead before the perfect moment comes." Cassie opened her mouth, but no sound came out, and Nick was going on, relentlessly, inevitably, his voice low but perfectly audible. "I know you and Conant were pretty attached to each other," he said. "And I know you thought a lot of him. I realize I'm hardly the perfect substitute - but like I said, the way things are going maybe it's stupid to wait for perfection." Suddenly he was looking directly at her and Cassie saw something in his mahogany eyes she'd never seen before. "So, Cassie, what do you think about it?" Nick said. "About you and me?"

Chapter Five

Cassie opened her mouth to speak, but Nick was going on.

"You know, when I first saw you I thought you were just ordinary," he said. "Then I started noticing things about you - your hair, your mouth. The way you kept on fighting even when you were scared. That night when Lovejoy was killed you were scared to death, but you were the one who suggested we look for the dark energy, and when we were out at the burying ground you kept up with Deborah." Nick stopped and grinned ruefully. "And with us guys," he said.

Cassie felt an answering smile tug at her own lips; quickly suppressed it. "Nick, I ..."

"Don't say anything yet. I want you to know that I - felt bad about how I treated you when you came to ask me to the dance." His jaw was tight, and he looked steadily at one particular flower on the upholstery of the couch. "I don't know why I did it - I've just got a lousy temper, I guess. I've had it so long I don't even think about it anymore." Nick took a deep breath before continuing, "See, I've always hated living with Deb's parents; I always felt like I owed them something. It put me in a permanent bad mood, I guess. I felt like my mom and dad screwed up somehow, getting themselves killed in a hurricane so their kid had to be supported by other people. It made me hate them - and my aunt and uncle, too."

Nick stopped and shook his head thoughtfully. "Yeah, especially Aunt Grace. She talks about my dad all the time, goin' on and on about how reckless he was, how he didn't care who he left behind, that kind of crap. It made me sick. I never figured it could be because she missed him."

Cassie was fascinated. "Is that why you don't like magic?" It was a blind guess, but he looked at her, startled.

"I don't know - I suppose it could have something to do with it. I resented the rest of the coven because I felt like they all had a better deal than me. They all had at least a grandparent, and I just had my dead parents that screwed up. And they were all so damn cheerful about it - like Conant. He - " Nick paused and glanced up at Cassie wryly. "Well, maybe the less said about him, the better. Anyway, I know the truth now. My parents didn't screw up, and if I screw up I can't blame them anymore. I've got only one person to blame - me. So I'm sorry about the way I acted."

"Nick, that's okay. You did take me to the dance."

"Yeah, after you came back and asked again. That took guts. And after I took you we went to Number Thirteen and you got hurt." The corner of Nick's mouth turned down. "I couldn't do anything about that. It was Conant who saved you."

A memory of the smoky thing at the Halloween ceremony, the dark form that had risen out of the Samhain fire, flickered through Cassie's mind. She shoved it away, feeling panic rise in her chest. She didn't want to think about Black John now - frightening though he had been as a smoky figure, he was more frightening by far as a man. His eyes . . .

"Cassie." Nick's strong fingers were wrapped around her wrist. "It's okay. You're okay."

Cassie gulped a deep breath and nodded, her awareness returning to the dim room. "Thanks," she whispered. It felt good to have Nick's hand on her arm: warm fingers, firm grip. It steadied her. And, God, she'd needed somebody