*CHAPTER 55*

*CHAPTER 55*
I grimaced down at the card. I opened my mouth to ask him what this was supposed to be, but as I raised my eyes, the man was gone, having disappeared into the crowd.

"What did that guy give you?"

Malcolm. Back from the bar, and judging by his glowering expression, not looking like he'd had much success. Wordlessly, I handed Malcolm the shimmery white rectangular piece of paper the man had given me. He took it, eyes moving over the card, and swore low under his breath.

"Of all the weirdos in this place, you had to run into the one handing out creepy little poems. Is this supposed to be some kind of perverted pick-up line?"

"He said he knew my mother."

Malcolm's shocked expression turned into something hard—mouth moving but the song shifted, turning to something loud and with the noise from the crowd I couldn't make out the words.

I shook my head, tapping my ear to let him know I couldn't hear him.

He huffed a sigh I saw more than heard. His shoulders stiffened as if bracing himself. I felt more than heard a knocking at the end of the Bond. The mental barrier between us was being rapped on, like someone was knocking on the door. Hesitating a moment, I finally gave in to the knocking and lowered the walls...just barely, though. Enough for his voice to carry through. Still, the sensations running through me were a shock after having him blocked for so long. It felt like my mind was being stretched, like things were both too loud and too quiet all at once.

'Did you just say the pervert knew your mom?' Malcolm's overly loud voice barged into my thoughts, his mind and my mind mixing, like oil and water. Feeling both uncomfortable and normal all at once.

That's what he told me. I shrugged helplessly, frustration that I hadn't been able to wring more information out of him while I'd had the chance twisting me up from the inside out.

'Start at the beginning. What exactly did he say?'

Someone barged through the crowd, jostling us and Malcolm reached out to steady me. With a firm grip on my arm, he lead us through the crowd that was growing more congested towards the dance floor. The music was getting louder, the fog in the room pumping out in earnest now, giving the faces through the room an eery glow. Caleb's band must be starting soon.

When we had finally emerged from the stifling crowd, to the side of the room where it was a little less densely packed, Malcolm gestured for me to continue.

While you were at the bar, the guy with the long hair tapped on my shoulder, thinking I was my mom. He called me by her name at first. Then when he realized I wasn't her, he said, "Then you must be her daughter, Kassandra." I pushed the thoughts toward him.

'He knew who you were too?'

Yeah, and that's not even the weirdest part. I said through the bond, even with the heat of so many bodies in one space and the humid feel of the fog drifting through the room, I felt a shiver rack down my spine. He said that because I couldn't remember him, that he must have done his job correctly. That the spell he'd cast on me must have worked.

Malcolm's expression was inscrutable as he considered that, 'What else?'

I thought back. That the spell blocking my Magic should be fading by now. And if I wanted to know more that I should call him.

'And that's when he gave you the note?'

I nodded.

He brought the card back up to scan the words again, flipping it over to the back as he considered.

Do you think he was telling the truth? I asked.

'At this point, it's hard to say. It lines up with what we already know—which isn't much. But your Magic didn't manifest until recently, so logically, it makes sense that there could have been a Block on them. What I don't understand though is why.'

Maybe he could tell me why. If my mom was the one behind it...

I didn't know what to think if my own mom had been the one to block out my Magic to begin with. She must have had a reason, but...it was still hard for me to swallow that my own mother had been hiding parts of me away like that. And making sure I didn't remember on top of that. Finding someone to hide parts of my memory from me. Thinking that my mind had been tampered with left a strange feeling creeping its way through me.

'We'll need to find out who that guy is and what he's after before we move forward with anything.' Malcolm's voice continued in my head.

There was a surge through the crowd as a few what looked to be servers in costume, handed out cans of something—energy drinks maybe— from coolers strapped to their chests. One graceful woman dressed as a gazelle passed us on stilts, handing out necklaces that glowed in the dark, and she dropped one over my neck as she passed. The crowd shifted again, bringing me closer to an already close Malcolm.

His arms shot out to steady me, and a thread of heat shot through me at the feel of his warm rough hands on my arms. Something about the clubs flashing lights, the heated bodies around us, and Malcolm's close proximity was doing things to me, dragging the Bond into further focus. The flashing lights brought his strong cheekbones and toned muscles into starker contrast and fire raced through my veins at the sight. Our time in the hospital had softened my resistance against this connection with him. Having him there, looking out for me when no one else had. And the feel of his body felt so good against mine--made me feel good for the first time in days.

My pulse skittered in my veins. He must have felt the change, because he glanced down at me, his green eyes vibrant in the dark room, "What is it?"
I wasn't sure I could speak. All I knew is that I wanted to feel good--to follow that feeling wherever it led me. To feel something other than the grief that had held me hostage for the last few days. And somehow, Malcolm felt that way. He felt safe. So instead of answering, I stood up on my tiptoes and pressed my lips against his.