Fate Chose Them All

Chapter 6 - Cassandra

I don't know how long I was passed out, so I don't know how long I've been in Professor Damascus's office. I do know I just spent the better part of an hour telling him everything I swore I wasn't going to tell anyone about my upbringing. I didn't realize I had been crying until he wiped my tears away. I don't know why I told him so much. Not everything, but enough of it. Something about my professor makes me feel... safe. I can't explain it. I can see the fury in his eyes, but I'm not afraid. I know it's not directed at me. Something about that makes me feel validated. I always knew the way I grew up wasn't normal. I envied the families in the coven who seemed so light and carefree. I also knew, as I was constantly reminded, I was lucky. I could be dead by now if it wasn't for my coven. I could have no idea I hold any magic inside me if they hadn't told me what to look for. And though they always told me everything they did was to help me reach my gifts, I couldn't ever be grateful. When my magic didn't manifest as a child, any love that I might have known was swiftly replaced with irritation and anger. I know that everything I've suffered is my own fault, but it never felt fair or right.

"Cassandra," the way Professor Damascus says my name sends butterflies throughout my stomach. I never went by my full name, but from his mouth, I would make an exception. "There are many different ways to try to assist someone in awakening their gifts, and we will try many," I can't help the shudder that rocks my body. I never want to try the way of dream walking ever again. "But, your coven," he practically spits the word, "used means I will never use on you. I will research the ways of the first witches if I must, to avoid causing you any more trauma. You have my word. We will never do anything that makes you feel unsafe or unvalued." My eyes lock onto his, and I feel certain that he means every word. Like some invisible bind inked itself onto my soul with his words.

"Thank you," I mutter meekly. Unsure what else to say to the one person who now knows my deepest shame and fears.

"You never need to thank me for that. I will always strive to keep you safe," his words are more tender than any I've ever known. It's not just his words though, but the way he says them. My heart flutters as I feel that bind in my soul strengthen. I don't know what it means, but I feel it all the same.

After a moment of just staring at each other, we both look away. Whatever that was felt like a spell, but stronger. Is it a vampire thing? I've not heard of that kind of magic from a witch before. Sirens I know can lull people with their voices. Maybe vampires can with just a look into their eyes. A new shudder wracks my body, but this one is of pleasure.

Clearing his throat, Professor Damscus breaks the silence. "Well, Ms. Revisham requested we meet twice a week to work on your magic." He moves back to his desk, and I follow. I take a seat across from him, hoping this extra work won't feel like a burden to him. "I think it might be prudent for us to meet a third time each week to work on a separate matter altogether." I watch his eyebrows pinch together as he hesitates to tell me more. I shift uncomfortably in this uneasy silence.

"What is the separate matter?" I finally find the courage to ask, my voice embarrassingly squeaky.

"A couple of things actually," he finally lifts his gaze to meet mine again, and then shifts it down to my wrists. I look down, remembering the shadows. I gently stroke my fingers over the marks. They don't hurt anymore, but I can feel the faintest hum under them. "If the shadows spoke to you the way you said, we need to be better prepared for them. I can do quite a bit of research on my own, but it will go faster if we work together." I nod my head once as I glance back up at him, determined to not be so helpless next time. I can't count on Professor Damascus being there if they attack again. As if reading my thoughts, his face softens, "I will be giving you my number. Never hesitate to use it." He quickly scrawls his phone number and passes it to me. I take it, biting my lip at my new embarrassing confession.

"I don't have a phone," I admit. He straightens, so stiffly he could be a statue. "And, I can't afford one." I move to slide the paper with his number back to him, but he holds up his hand and shakes his head.

"I need to know," he grits his teeth, and I can tell he's trying to reign in his anger. "Was your coven a poor one? Or the family that you lived with, did they have minimal means?" I see him trying to keep it together, but I squirm uncomfortably all the same.

"No," I answer honestly. "But, I am a burden. An orphan that the coven leaders took in. So, putting less money into me was necessary so it could go to true coven members who actually could contribute something with their magic," I recite the words I was constantly reminded of growing up anytime I was told I couldn't have something. Eventually, I just stopped asking for anything. Then, even when I was given hand me down clothes, I was still reminded of the words. I hang my head in the shame I've lived in my whole life. How long would it be before Professor Damascus saw me as a burden too?

His hand lifts my chin, I didn't even hear him move around his desk. His face is so close to mine, and I feel the strongest urge to close the distance and kiss him. What is wrong with me? He's my professor! Yet, the way he's looking at me, I can't help but think he's longing for my mouth on his too.

"You are no burden, Cassandra Ivy," his words are powerful, and I can feel them filling some empty space inside me. "You should never have been made to feel that way. One day, that pathetic excuse of a coven will wish they had been better to you." He speaks with such conviction, I can almost believe him. A smile tugs at my lips all the same as I gaze at him. "If you need anything ever, you need only ask. I mean it." His eyes are blazing a path to my core, and I can feel the honesty of his every word. His hand on my chin sending flames against my skin. My mouth parts as if to answer him, but I only manage the smallest nod. I squeeze my thighs together, not understanding why my body keeps reacting to him so strongly. I can see some kind of hesitation in his eyes, like he wants to say something more, but no more words pass between us. Neither one of us willing to break this silent connection that continues to build.

After what seems like eternity and also no time at all, he releases my chin. He hands me a sheet of paper that shows my updated schedule with our private meetings, and steps back. After a moment, I rise from my chair, realizing our business is done for now, but regretting the inevitability of leaving his presence. We stare a second longer at each other, and I could swear I could see a yearning in his eyes. I grab my keys and go, remembering Bit is probably waiting for me. I don't turn back, but I can feel his gaze on my back regardless.

I don't know what is happening, I shouldn't be so swept up in a professor. However, being in his presence feels more natural than leaving it. I've never felt more attuned to my soul before. It almost feels like a piece has been missing a long time, and Everett Damascus just fit it back where it belonged. I shake my head as I leave the gothic building, not understanding how or why this connection is there. Meeting with him privately three times a week sounds like the best kind of trouble I'll ever know though. Despite the heavy conversation we just had, I never felt lighter. I find myself unable to suppress my smile as I cut across campus, back to Wisteria Hall.