by Nikki Hyson
“Who is this young man with Lily?”
“Her fiancé. Stephan. Why?”
“They look so happy. She’s never mentioned him.”
“Well, she wouldn’t. She never does.” Sarah hesitated. “He died three years ago.”
Carefully, James put the picture back on the mantle. “I’m sorry.”
“Yes, well. He was a good lad; loved our Lily.” She paused awkwardly. “Hit and run accident.”
“I can’t imagine knowing her and not caring for her.” James stepped forward to claim the towels, pretending he didn’t notice Sarah’s flinch. “Does she write about him? I mean, does Lily put Stephan in her stories?”
“I don’t know. She never lets anyone read her words.”
“I see. Thanks. Tell her I won’t be long.” He now knew who watched Lily and glared at him from the library stacks. Stephan. Suddenly eager for blinding steam to muffle his senses, and water hot enough to thaw regret, James walked softly to the bath.
A few hours later he stood outside the Oracle’s chamber. His fingers grazed the wood whirls, knuckle curling to knock. Again, he hesitated.
Lily hadn’t understood his silence on the ride back into the city, or his need to be dropped off one block from the Guild, but she’d respected both. “See you at the library,” she said before pulling away.
I hope so. James stared at the door. Her door. My Anne. He lifted his hand, fingers tightening into a fist. I’m going to get us both killed. She doesn’t know me. What am I doing here?
Cris stepped from the shadows. “Are you going to see her or not?” Leaning into the wall, both arms folded, his head cocked curiously. “Either way, get a move on.”
“How did you know…” Something in the Count’s look, the way Cris had looked at James the last time, told him everything. And nothing. “Somehow, you know who we are. How?”
“I’ve always known who she might be. I wondered about you after she lied on that first day.” Cris shrugged amiably. “Took a bit of digging.”
“How long have you known?”
“Since the second day.”
“What?”
He smiled, Sarcasm glinting in his dark eyes. “I said a bit. What are you going to do?”
James looked back at the door. “I don’t know.”
Before another word could be spoken the door opened, and Anne stood before him. Gown a shade of blueberry juice, golden hair flowing loose about her shoulders, she took a half step forward. Their bodies nearly touched.
James’ mouth opened to speak her name but her hand stoppered his lips. “Ssh,” she whispered. “If I can hear you, so can He.” Glancing towards Cris, she added, “Make sure he gets out safely.”
Cris bowed, mockery melting away under the respect bestowed upon queens. “Lady,” he said, the single word conveying both promise and fealty.
James looked for explanation from one to the other, but her hand slipped into his. He let her guide him into the room. No time for words or thought; door shutting softly after.
Candles flickered lazily, casting a thousand fairy lights adrift to dance within her mirrors. His gaze traveled the chamber’s circumference, as if it were his first time. Nearing, the mirrors parted, filling the breach after they’d passed between them.
His gaze sought out the broken mirror she’d shattered for him. It was whole again. Capturing their reflection, it revealed the slight shiver running over her.
James touched her bare arms, finding them cold as snow. “Are you afraid?”
“The mirrors. I saw us today. I’ve never seen myself in them if the person wasn’t standing beside me. How is this possible?”
“Because I remembered you, Anne. Anne, my love and my life.”
“How can you know, when I do not?”
His hand found the curve of her cheek, as if it had always known the way, and he cupped it gently. He knew what her lips would feel like beneath his. The taste of her breath across his tongue. The sound of her voice on his ear as she whispered his name. He even knew the smell of her hair when she nestled into his shoulder. James knew everything about Anne. Yet had no idea how to save her.
Was it kindness or the cruelest cut bringing him here tonight? Was it only selfishness to show her the world they could never share? Looking into the pale blue of her eyes, he watched them flicker to emerald and knew. I shouldn’t have come here. I should have stayed away. He was putting her in danger. Again. “I’m sorry.” Taking a step back, his hand slipped through her fingers.
She caught ahold of him. “Oh, no you don’t.” Pressing his hand to her cheek, she stepped forward to close the distance he suddenly sought. “Not again.”
James froze, breath catching among his heartstrings. “Again?”
“I don’t remember, but I know. I’ve always known there’s something between us. A love shared that feels so much stronger than all of this. Do you remember, James? Do you remember us?”
Throat nearly closed, he nodded once.
“Show me.” Giving him her back, she pulled his arms around her with the familiarity of an age. “Show me us.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I think you do.” Looking into the mirrors, she met his reflected gaze. “Show me.”
James’ gaze followed hers to the reflection before them. The same couple, but different entirely, stood within the mirror. They looked so happy, the promise of possibilities still laid out before them. Yet, he knew how her father had twisted things, and he knew they’d no choices in this life either.
James closed his eyes, resting his forehead atop her shoulder. “I hurt you the last time,” he confessed. “I shouldn’t have come. It would be best if you didn’t remember. I should’ve left you in peace. I only wanted to hold you one more time.”
“I haven’t had peace since the day you walked through my door.”
He didn’t take the bait. He wanted to let her go and run. I want…
…more than we can ever have. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against her hair and fled. Just like he had the last time.
25
Lily scanned the library’s main floor. Every desk, table, and chair had been drawn into the center. She’d thought it might be a bit of over-prepping, folding chairs spilling down the aisle between gardening and rabbit care books, but the library teemed with writers. Every surge protector claimed, writers stood chatting in animated groups all over the room. Even the reference section, where she stood, appeared packed to capacity.
Counting one hundred souls quickly, Lily couldn’t stop the smile. One hundred word smiths. All ready, eager, for the first word war to begin.
James waiting at her elbow, chuckled softly. “You look like you’re in shock.” Adding, only half in jest, he whispered, “Didn’t you think anyone would come?”
“Not this many. Not this early. I think we’re only allowed a hundred and thirty-five by code.” Pausing, a new thought came to mind. “Hope I brought enough biscuits.”
James looked down at the check-in desk heaped with snacks, coffee decanters, electric teakettles, biscuits, fruit and mints. “I’ll go out for more if we run low.” Giving her a gentle nudge, he said, “Better get this party going.”
Stepping from his side, Lily nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
A flicker of light, passing over the children’s section, drew her eye to the front door as it swung wide. More?
Cris entered with two in tow. The one on his left was that man Rochefort, like the cheese. The other she didn’t recognize at all. A large, well-made man of perhaps forty, impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit pressed to a knife’s edge.
Curiosity piqued, Lily took a step closer, leg bumping into the counter and raising a grunt. For a moment, she’d forgotten everything else. Memories of her father’s story drew a few fragments into focus. Rochefort; Cardinal Richelieu’s right hand? That Rochefort?
James cleared the steps from the research area. “Lily.” He stepped between her and those from the Guild, snapping her ga
ze up to him. Her name both plea and warning he said it again, “Lily.”
Slowly forming an answer, she watched the lines about his eyes deepen with each passing moment. “When Dah spoke of them, he was afraid.”
“Yes.”
“You’re afraid too.”
“Yes. I am.” James swallowed visibly. “I’m afraid for you, Lily. No one is supposed to know.”
That part might be the truth, but it wasn’t all of it. His words from last night, the ones she wasn’t supposed to hear, resonated within her like a bell that could never be unrung. Thank you for not telling her what I am.
Lily glanced over his shoulder, then up at James. Cris and the others were striding towards them. Picking up the receiver to make her announcement, she nodded once.
They reached the front desk. “So many,” the one she didn’t know gasped. “There are so many.”
Moving slightly, until the trio slipped from view, Lily hit the intercom button. It gave a low beep.
“Good morning. Welcome to our fifth annual Final Push NaNo Write-In. We’ll be here until seven this evening. You’re welcome to stay for as little or as long as you like. We’ll be running word wars in our usual fashion of fifteen or twenty minutes on the hour and half hour. There will be prizes. There will be fun, and there will be…” She paused long enough to rifle through the tote bag she’d cast aside. Lily pulled out a shirt, waving it like a flag. “Winner tees!”
The crowd cheered, fists pounding the tables in synchronized repetition. Appreciating the enthusiasm, Lily laughed. “Alright. Alright.” Patting the air, she glanced back at the wall clock. “We’ll get started in ten minutes. There’s coffee and all sorts of things up here so help yourself. Please sign in if you haven’t already, and put your starting word count. Most words at end of day also wins a prize so log out before you go and leave a phone number or email. Good? Clear as mud?” Lily smiled widely at all the eager faces. “Excellent! First word war in ten minutes.” Clicking off the intercom, she drew a shaky breath. “How’d I do?”
James’ hand briefly touched hers. “Brilliant. I’d never guess you slept less than four hours.”
“Thanks.” Sliding one pace to the side, she considered Cris and his two companions. “Hello, Cris. Come to write with us?”
Cris looked around, visibly impressed. “I’d no idea writing could be so boisterous.”
“This is nothing. Go to the one in California some time. Two hundred and fifty writers on a caffeine and sugar high. Now, that’s a party.”
The one she didn’t know pierced her with a look; demanding nothing less than the truth. “You’ve been to it? In California?”
Lily buried both hands in her sweatshirt’s pouch to suppress a shudder. Still, she stared straight back. Nodding, she managed to answer without a quiver. “Once. Loved every minute. There’s nothing like meeting people you’ve been friends with for years. No strangers. Only writers. All related and speaking the same language.” She gave a rueful shake at the memory. “Hoping to go again next year.”
“So, you’re rather close to everyone.”
Lily tilted her head slightly, acknowledging Cris and this comment, but never taking her eyes from the obvious leader. He listened to her every word with the keenest interest, weighing each against some indefinable thing in a scale. Rochefort stood silent, a step back from the others. She ignored him completely.
Cris arched a brow, silently hinting that some response would be wise. She could feel James holding his breath beside her.
Lily cleared her throat softly. “Like I said. We’re family. It doesn’t get any closer.”
Cris nodded before posing another question. “Do you have any get-togethers like this after November?”
“Not quite this large, but yes.” Carefully avoiding the trepidation rolling off of James only a step away, Lily clicked her pen once, twice. “I do workshops on editing every week at the high school. From January through March. It’s an evening class and limited to twenty. Sign up early if you’re interested. Then there’s two months of Camp NaNo which is the same as this.”
“Lily,” one of the library aides interrupted, pausing for the barest of beats. “I’m calling in the pizza order for 5 o’clock. Okay?”
Lily nodded approval and Kate was gone. Yes. My people. Shedding anxiety, she drew another breath. “We do write-ins, but there’s also forums on the site.” Gathering momentum, she smiled straight into Cris’ dark eyes. Who are you really? “I have a three week workshop every October on plot outline and character development for the Young Writers Program. Actually, I start working with five teachers by the end of September.” Aware she’d begun to ramble, she snapped it off abruptly. “Stop by, if you have any questions.”
“I certainly will.” Cris tipped a finger to his brow. A salute? Lily knew it had nothing to do with her answer, and everything to do with the scowl on the other man’s face. Cris seemed determined to make a point. “Thanks for taking the time to explain it to us.”
“Oh, I enjoy it. Ask anyone. I better get going though. The first word war’s in four minutes.” Reaching to collect both journal and pen, she lightly brushed James’ arm. “Have a good day.”
Hyde watched her settle the crowd effortlessly. She was the Professor here. In control and relaxed in her authority. No one objected when she suggested a cup of coffee be moved to a less precarious position, or asked someone else if they knew where a wandering child’s parent might be.
“Let’s go.” Hyde turned his back to the main tables. “I’ve seen enough.
“Wait,” James dared. Leaning back towards the counter, he widened the distance between them. “You should watch one word war. It’s amazing.”
“Amazing?” Hyde flicked a glance towards Rochefort. The musketeer shrugged.
Hyde, fixing his attention onto James, growled softly, “You sound as if you admire them.”
“They do what I cannot. I’m only a paper soul. Nothing more.”
Their look held.
Lily’s voice carried across the nearly silent room. “Last call. Find a seat.”
“Very well,” Hyde said at last, sliding a hand into his trouser pocket without disturbing the crease. “We will witness this amazing battle.”
Lily remained standing, hand raising to count down the seconds. “Okay. Three, two, one. Begin!”
A clatter of fingers over keyboards stampeded through the library. Minutes passing swiftly under bent heads and focused eyes, Hyde saw this amazing moment for what it truly was. One hundred writers at war.
Hyde felt the color drain from his face and hated her—this Lily—for it.
A flick of movement at the corner of his eye, and he knew James was noting his disquiet. He’d make the pirate pay for that.
“Come,” Hyde growled before the first war was half done. Rochefort followed him out.
“He’s afraid,” Cris murmured, picking up a pen off the checkout counter. Stepping forward to write in Lily’s ledger, he surveyed the names for a moment. “There’s danger in that.”
James didn’t need to be told. There would be payment demanded for the disquiet of a moment. He felt it in his bones. Cold dread creeped into his marrow, leaching whatever hope he’d been harboring.
Cris met his eye, scrawling a few quick words in the ledger before noting, “She knows you.”
“Yes.”
“Is that wise?”
“No choice. Her father’s Pan.”
Blind shock passed over Cris’ features. “You don’t say.”
“And the Professor is Moriarty.” James studied the secondary reaction. “But you already knew. What does he want? What’s the point of all this?”
“No idea. He doesn’t like to trust.” Cris laid the pen down. “See you tonight at the flat.”
“Don’t we have something this evening?”
“You should stay here. Enjoy today. Enjoy every minute.”
Suspicion rose, strangling the gratitude he knew he should be feeling. Cri
s stood waiting. Slowly, James nodded once. “Thanks.”
The earlier smile flickered in Cris’ eyes. “That’ll do.”
“Time!” Lily called, setting one journal down and claiming another. “Words?”
Cris waited until she glanced his way. Jerking his head back towards James, he said, “Look after him.” The words played over his lips, more read than heard.
Confusion drew her brows close, but a nod dipped just the same. A silent “Of course.”
Cris accepted the promise with an answering nod of farewell. Pivoting away from them both, he strode across the library floor. Sunlight sparkling over the children’s books, the door swung wide. He was gone.
Arching a brow, Lily continued taking down shouted numbers.
James shook his head. “Later.”
“Three hundred and seventy-six.”
“Two ninety.”
“One thousand and eleven.”
Lily jerked her head towards a teenager at the edge of the room. “Say again, Saralynn.”
The teenager grinned, long dark hair falling over a shoulder to hide a laugh. “Thought you weren’t paying attention.”
“So your real number is?”
“Six nineteen. You going to introduce us?”
Lily didn’t look up from her notepad. “Introduce you? To who?”
“Your boyfriend. He’s been here the last three write-ins.”
James didn’t have a chance to catch Lily’s reaction or response. A gentle nudge at his elbow startled him enough to shift concentration, robbing his peripherals. To his surprise a snow-haired woman, he’d seen at another write in, regarded him with affability. James tried for simple. “Hello.”
She held up a paper cup filled with hot water and a tea bag. “You don’t seem like a coffee drinker,” she said, smile lifting every line in the right direction. James knew in an instant she was well acquainted with laughter; indeed, they visited often.
Amused, he accepted the cup. “How can you tell?”
“Forty-seven years as a nanny. You get rather good at sizing up a person’s likes and dislikes with just a once over. Makes life a little easier when you know the strained peas will end up on the floor.”
