Kindled (Page 2)

“She doesn’t cry, or at least she hasn’t yet. She’s too angry for that. The hurt’s not getting through.” Chris handed him a cup of coffee, steam spiraled slowly up from it. “I figured you would be a black kind of guy.”

“I am. If she’s not crying, then what is she doing?”

“Trying to breathe.” At Devon’s questioning glance, Chris waved briefly to the window. “It’s too much anger, too much hatred; she doesn’t know how to handle it. She can’t breathe through it.”

“I see.”

“I don’t.” Chris pulled up another chair, sitting down he blew lightly on his coffee as he propped his feet up. “She thinks that she can push us all away, but she’s wrong. I don’t get how she doesn’t understand that. You do know that she has a death wish right?”

A chill swept down Devon’s spine, anger spurted through him. He knew that what Chris said was true, but it was not a thought that sat well with him. He would do everything in his power to keep that from happening. She would survive this, even if she didn’t want to. “Yes,” he managed to grate through clenched teeth.

Chris sipped his coffee, staring out at the night. Devon slowly returned to his seat, ready to take off again if Cassie tried to escape. She didn’t though. Eventually she retreated back to her room, sliding and locking the window behind her. Devon sighed in relief, relaxing slightly.

“That’s not Cassie you know.”

Devon glanced sharply at Chris, worry bubbled swiftly up. Had Chris sensed something inside of her, something off? And if so, what exactly had he sensed? Did Chris know something about what he and Luther had been searching for? “What do you mean?”

Chris shook his head, taking another sip of coffee. “She’s just not the same Cassie I’ve always known. That Cassie,” he said, nodding toward Cassie’s vacated window. “Is so full of anger and hatred.” He shook his head again, seemingly trying to shake off the lingering feelings that clung to him. “I’ve known her my entire life, but I’ve never known her like this. I never thought that she could even be capable of it. But I guess we never know what people are capable of, do we?”

Devon leaned forward, his gaze still focused on Cassie’s window, his mind on Chris’s words. “No, we don’t.”

“She’ll come around you know. She’ll realize that this isn’t your fault.”

Devon turned toward Chris. He was silent for a moment as he thought over Chris’s words and his own role in everything that had happened. “Isn’t it though?”

“No.” Chris set his coffee mug down. “It’s no one’s fault, unfortunately things just happen and we can’t always stop them. You didn’t kill Lily.”

“I helped to create the monster that did, and I did create Isla,” Devon said softly. Julian had once been his best friend and greatest companion, but was now his greatest enemy. Devon had enjoyed helping to make Julian a murderous psychopath. Isla, well Isla he had simply enjoyed. He shrank away from the reminder of what he once been, what he had once enjoyed, and that relationship. Isla was exactly the twisted individual that he had once desired immensely.

Though Isla had not killed Lily, for only Julian would have known of Lily’s relationship to Cassie, Devon was certain that she had helped in Lily’s demise. “I’m the reason that he is here. That they are both here.”

Chris was silent for a moment as he swayed lightly in his chair. “But you did not kill Lily.”

Devon turned away again, his forgotten coffee clutched tightly in his hands. “Splitting hairs,” he muttered.

Chris sighed softly, his impatience with Devon evident on his face. “The truth is that it’s not you that she’s really mad at.”

Devon frowned fiercely. “Of course it is.”

Chris leaned forward; reaching out to take the mug from Devon’s clenched hands. He released it slowly, dimly realizing that he had cracked it from holding it so tight. Coffee dripped down the side of the crack. “No, it’s not. She’s mad at herself, she’s mad that she wasn’t there to stop it. She’s mad that she was with you that night, instead of with her grandmother. She’s mad that she didn’t see it coming, that she didn’t realize that Julian, or Isla, would go after her grandmother. It’s not you that she hates; I don’t even think she truly hates Julian.”

Chris broke off, his eyes bright in the light of the moon. His face was intent, his gaze still incredibly lost and lonely. Though Chris was far younger than he, Devon suddenly sensed a wealth of wisdom in him that was frightening as well as slightly unnerving.

“It’s herself that she hates right now. That is who she is truly angry at, who she truly hates. That is what is at the root of her desire to die. She hates herself so much that she doesn’t want to keep going. She hates herself so much that she doesn’t want anyone’s love right now. Not yours, not mine, nobody’s. She doesn’t feel she deserves it. Not anymore.”

Devon sat in stunned silence, his gaze rapidly searching Chris’s face. Confusion swirled through Devon, doubt and worry swamped him. Though the two of them had developed a friendship of sorts, Devon had always suspected that Chris was in love with Cassie. Why would Chris want to help him by telling him this stuff now? Why would Chris give him hope that Cassie would come back to him, once she sorted through the emotions and pain swamping her?

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked softly.

Chris frowned at him, his eyes shadowed by the dark circles beneath them. “To help you understand.”

“But why?” Devon demanded. “With me out of the picture, you can make your move on her.”

Though the thought made his blood boil, it was something that needed to be said, and explained. Chris’s eyes widened, his mouth parted in surprise, and then (to Devon’s vast annoyance) he began to laugh loudly. “Make a move on Cassie!?” he sputtered in disbelief.

Devon frowned fiercely at him. “Yes.”

Chris’s laughter died off, but his eyes still twinkled with amusement. “You think that I’m in love with her!”

Devon’s annoyance grew as he shifted angrily in his chair. Despite their strange friendship, he was very close to punching the maddening grin off of Chris’s face. “Well, aren’t you?” he growled.

“Good God no!” he cried, laughter bursting from him once more. “That would be like being in love with my sister.” He managed to gasp out between bouts of laughter. “You really thought that I was in love with her!?”