by Julie Hall
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
We’d stopped walking, and I was too in my head to care. Logan faced me. The crease that settled between his eyebrows was the only indication he was worried. He looked very much like the familiar ‘all business’ Logan I’d known since my first arrival here.
“What just happened? You know I was joking, right? We’re not going to the training center.”
I shook my head and forced a wooden smile. “Sorry. Just got stuck in my head there for a bit.”
He nodded. “I noticed. Are you sure you don’t want to talk to me about it?”
That was the problem. Because I did.
I desperately wanted to talk to him about it and have him fix the un-fixable and make it all go away.
But that was a fantasy. This wasn’t going away. My fate had been sealed in blood.
I shook my head.
Logan heaved a sigh and continued down the path. This time, he didn’t take my hand or put an arm around me.
I didn’t blink as we walked through the entrance of a pearlescent, columned building. It appeared to be about five or six stories from the outside. We passed through the revolving doors and . . . were we outside again?
“What is this place?”
Logan’s fingers grazed my hand. His happiness mixed with my wonderment. “It’s beautiful, right?”
My eyes skated from one place to another. Taking in the dense tree cover, the beautiful flower-lined paths, and . . . wait, was that a purple bunny?
“Yeah, that’s one word for it.” I didn’t realize I’d spoken out loud.
I closed my eyes and sucked in a lungful of sweet scented air. When I opened them again, rainbow light shimmered on the grassy path in front of us. I reached my arm out, and the multicolored light coated my hand and tickled my fingers with warmth.
“I don’t understand. Did we just go through a portal?”
“No.” With two fingers, Logan tenderly tipped my head and pointed up with his other hand. “We’re in a solarium. Can you see the glass?”
I peered through the canopy of leaves above our heads. If I tilted my head just right, light reflected off a spot above us. I would have never known we were in a glass enclosure if Logan hadn’t pointed it out.
“Wow . . . just wow.” My eyes started to water from not blinking. I fluttered my lashes and glanced at Logan. “So, where are we?”
Logan looked back at me and blinked, unmoving—there was an intensity to the moment I didn’t understand. Warmth filled my cheeks and then, like a wave, rolled through my body. There was a spark of blue that ignited from Logan’s hand, even as his gaze remained locked on mine.
“What?” Did I have something on my face? Oh gosh, was I drooling or something? I wiped at my mouth. No drool. Phew. Something in my teeth? What was it? “Why are you staring at me like that?”
The blue in Logan’s eyes flashed as if backlit, and the next moment the black pupils almost completely swallowed the color. He snaked his arm around my back and pulled me close, cupping my neck with his hand.
I struggled to stop a second full body blush. I had a pretty good idea of what was going through Logan’s mind. His emotions overpowered mine.
“You are beautiful beyond words.” His lips were a whisper away from mine.
He was the beautiful one.
He leaned even closer so that our lips were just touching. Neither of us moved.
“What color is my hair?”
He blinked once then buried his face in my neck, laughter shaking his body.
“Oops, was that a mood killer?” I asked.
Logan continued to laugh, the sound rich and deep. He placed a loud kiss to the side of my neck before pulling back. At least I still amused him.
“It’s whatever color says ‘I love Logan.’”
I pushed a hand into my hair and kept it from view. “You know, I don’t even want to know.”
“Probably not.” Only his eyes were laughing at me now.
“Man, I need to find the receipt on this talent so I can return it.”
Logan shook his head. “Never. How else would I know how you’re feeling?”
“You’re joking, right? Because I’m pretty sure I have the worst poker face in the world.”
“That’s true as well.”
Rather than punching him in the gut, I pushed away with narrowed eyes.
“We’re in the Archive Building.” Logan’s eyes still danced with mirth. I couldn’t truly be upset with him. “Romona mentioned that you might have identified a new species a while back. I thought we could check to see if the little guys are recorded here.”
“Oh. I’d forgotten about that.” I slapped a hand to my face. “I really hope someone had already discovered them.”
“Why?”
“Did Romona tell you what I named them?”
“No.”
“Well, that’s why.”
With a smile I was still getting used to, Logan took my hand and guided me along the grass-covered path. “Let’s go see if your genius is recorded for the rest of eternity.”
“Oh, great.”
After our quick jaunt through what was nothing short of an enchanted forest, we pushed through another revolving door. This time we emerged into a great library. Shelves upon shelves of books lined the perimeter of an open space reaching six stories into the air.
I’d suddenly stepped into a Disney version of heaven. Should I be looking for Belle?
People with wings strapped to their backs flitted around in front of the books, plucking them from their homes and bringing them down to be read.
No thank you, I was not going there again. Last time I’d tried flying with those contraptions I’d not only crashed into a floating chandelier but also an occupied table. I ended up wearing someone else’s meal.
I was shaking my head before Logan could utter a word. “Nope. No way. Absolutely not.”
“But you fly so gracefully,” he teased.
“Yeah, you mean I crash so splendidly. I’m sure if I even tried that again, Alrik would be around to—”
Reality crashed down on my head. Alrik wouldn’t be here to do anything anymore, ever again. He was in Hell, working with Satan.
Logan tactfully ignored my slip. “Aw, all you need is a little practice.”
He just meant to tease, but his words pulled up a wash of emotion again. I wouldn’t be here long enough to practice anything. All I had were the memories I could make before our time ran out.
Logan misread my face . . . or perhaps my hair color. “Don’t worry. This isn’t why we’re here anyway. We’re just passing through.”
“It is quite a sight.”
We walked down the middle aisle. To our left and right were long wooden tables with a smattering of people seated at them. Large books lay open in front of most of them.
“They’re reading the history of their loved ones,” Logan told me.
“What?”
I glanced at Logan, and he jerked his chin at the table in front of us where a middle-aged man sat reading a book several times thicker than an encyclopedia. He smiled softly smile even as I spotted the track marks of dried tears on his face. We brushed past his table, and I stole a peek over my shoulder. The man remained hunched over the book.
“These books hold the current stories of every living person on Earth. It’s one of the ways people can catch up on their friends’ and families’ lives.”
“This place is huge, but there can’t possibly be enough books in this room for every single person in the world.”
“The books are also stacked several rows back—as in, several thousand rows. You have to check in with a librarian first”—he pointed at a desk in the corner where a young woman stood in front of a monitor—“and then the book is brought to the forefront and you can go fetch it.”
“But books? That seems like a rather impersonal way to find out about someone’s life. Wouldn’t a recording of some sort be better?”
He shrugged. “Have y
ou ever read a book before? Some people would argue they’re the best way to get sucked into a good story.”
“Have you ever read someone’s history here before?”
A muscle in Logan’s jaw jumped—the only indication my question had affected him. I hadn’t realized it would be a personal thing to ask.
“Never mind. You don’t have to tell me.”
He blew out a breath and tipped his head toward me. “No, that’s a fair and simple question. Truth is I’ve been avoiding this place. I probably should have at least checked in on my parents, but I’ve been too . . . ”
Despite not wanting to pry, I waited for Logan to continue. He ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I dove into my new existence and did whatever I could to bury my past. With the exception of Kaitlin, this was my fresh start. I took hold of it and didn’t look back. But I’m learning that burying my feelings isn’t healthy. I need to make a trip here soon—if for no other reason than to honor my parents. They deserve that. Just not today, okay?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“But if you have any questions about looking up someone’s history, you should check with Kevin.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, he visits at least once a week to check up on his family.”
I didn’t know why, but that surprised me. “Wow, that sounds . . . incredibly hard.”
A strange look shadowed Logan’s face, one I wasn’t familiar with and gone as quickly as it came. “It’s a little different for him. You’ll have to ask him yourself, though. It’s his story to tell.”
My interest was piqued. “What does that mean?”
“Here we are.” Logan pushed through a set of ancient-looking doors, cutting off my interrogation in the process.
This guy. Seriously?
I took my eyes off his face and scanned the new area. The room was small, with two unmarked doors and nothing else. I was underwhelmed.
“Ah, yep. Here we are all right.” Logan smiled beside me. He pointed to the unmarked door on the right. “That door leads to the Artifacts Room. We’re headed through this other door.”
Before I could ask him more about the room we weren’t entering, he’d opened the door on the left and let me walk in in front of him.
Ahhh . . . another white room.
“Is this a museum?”
Logan’s low chuckle echoed off the bleached walls around us. Hallways stretched out forever in front of us and to the left and right. I took several steps to the left and encountered another hallway.
On the white walls of each hallway hung photographs of animals. Most I recognized. A few I didn’t. Under each picture was a gold plaque with the name of the animal, dates listed—some with a date range like those seen on a tombstone—and then a person’s name. Most of them had “Adam” listed, but a few here and there featured other people’s names. It didn’t take me long to figure out these were pictures of every species that ever existed, even the ones now extinct, and who first gave a name to them.
“Please tell me we don’t have to search this whole place?” I did a slow turn. I couldn’t even imagine how long it would take to check each picture.
“Naw, come here.” He gestured to an empty spot on the wall with a tilt of his head. “We can look it up.”
“Thank goodness. I don’t want to waste any more time than I have to.”
“You find spending time with me a waste?” The teasing note in his voice betrayed him.
I shot him a side glance. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“A couple months ago I might not have.”
“Well, quite a bit has changed since then, hasn’t it?” I lifted my eyebrows in a challenge to refute me.
“I certainly hope so.” He turned to the wall and pressed his palm to it. A screen appeared in front of us, much like the ones at the Healing Center. At this point, things just appearing at a touch didn’t surprise me in the least.
“All right, so, tell me what name you chose, and I’ll see if it’s in the system.”
I grimaced and squeezed my eyes shut. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”
Logan chuckled. “Come on, spit it out already.”
“Ah, this is the worst.” I covered my eyes with a hand before answering, “Star shooters.” When I dropped my hand, I glared at him, daring him to laugh. He ran a hand over his mouth in an obvious attempt to wipe away any evidence of a smirk.
“I think it’s cute.”
I rolled my eyes.
He moved his fingers over the screen, and after a few moments, nothing came up. “Huh, that’s strange. Maybe they’d already been discovered.” Logan’s eyes remained glued to the monitor, as though searching for something that wasn’t actually there. “You sure that was the name you gave them? There wasn’t any variation?”
“Yes, of course I remember. I just called them ‘star shooter thingies,’ and then Romona and I went and had lunch.”
Logan shook beside me as he tried to bottle a laugh. His fingers moved over the screen again.
“What? It’s not there. That means someone already named them, right?”
“Not exactly,” he said. I’d been staring at him, but he directed my attention to the screen with a pointed finger.
“No.” I rubbed my eyes and groaned. When I opened them, the picture on the screen hadn’t changed. The same cute aquatic creature Romona and I had spotted was captured to perfection.
Its scales shimmered a pretty purple-blue. One tip of the star shape stuck out more than the rest. Two of the appendages opposite the long one were fish-like tales. The image came to life, and the other two points of the star flattened to the creature’s body when it swam, allowing it to dart to and fro. It moved like an aquatic hummingbird.
Under the image in big bold letters for all to see was my name, AUDREY LYONS, along with the words STAR SHOOTER THINGIES.
“It’s not that bad.” Logan laughed behind me. I’d moved forward without realizing it, my nose only inches from the screen.
“Oh, those poor creatures. They sound like a bad frat party shot.” I shook my head in shame.
Logan howled with laughter.
I wanted to complain, but I couldn’t blame him his reaction. If the roles were reversed, I never would have let him live the embarrassment down. I deserved a good ribbing for this one.
“Can it be undone?”
Logan shook his head and wiped a tear from his eye. “’Fraid not. Those little guys will now and forevermore be known as”—he cleared his throat—“star shooter”—he cleared it again to get the last word out—“thingies.”
I closed my eyes. “Promise me you’ll never let me name another species.”
He pulled me to his side and tucked me under his arm. My hand naturally came up to rest on his chest, and I looked up into his stormy gaze. He bent his head down and whispered, “Promise.”
My heartbeat picked up. What were we talking about again? I nestled into Logan’s embrace and sighed contentedly. Since when did a cotton t-shirt feel so good?
“It’s nice to see this again.” He brushed a hand through my hair and pulled some of it forward. The strands were a pretty lavender shade with only a few wisps of pink through it. “I’d like to believe this color means something good.”
My stupid hair . . . but he was probably right. With his lips so close, I had to wonder why we were still talking. My eyes zeroed in on those kissable peppermint lips. With the limited time I had, I wanted as much of him as I could get.
That thought was like being doused with a pitcher of ice water. My body reacted in a visceral way—a chill shot straight up my spine, and my muscles locked. Logan’s eyes widened. The hair he held in his hand turned to an icy blue before both our eyes. He dropped the strands and took hold of my face with both hands. My out of control emotions slammed into both of us, and I jerked out of his hold.
“What is it?” I hadn’t heard the cold bite to Logan’s words since b
efore we bonded. “What just happened?”
“I . . . ah, um . . . I’m not sure what you mean.” I stumbled over my words as if I were blindly walking through a field of rocks.
Logan’s eyes narrowed. After several heartbeats, he swiped a hand down his face. When he looked at me again, his eyes were filled with sorrow.
He took a step closer to me; I forced myself not to retreat.
“Audrey”—the way he said my name caused my heart to ache—“you can lie to me with these”—he brought his fingers up and ghosted them over my lips—“but that doesn’t lie to me”—he pointed at my hair—“and neither does this.” He patted his chest. “Don’t you feel it?”
I was honestly perplexed at what he meant.
His brow creased in frustration, and he thumped his chest. “In here, don’t you feel me like I feel you?”
My eyes widened. He could feel my emotions even when we weren’t touching? I still had the Logan-GPS, but I hadn’t felt anything from him since we returned to this realm. The last time I’d felt anything of his without the aid of the empathy link was in Hell.
He read my answer on my face. “Well, I can feel you, and it seems an awful lot like you’re not only shutting down on me, but you’re hiding something. Something big. Something that scares you.”
Right now he was scaring me. The level of intimacy he was describing felt . . . invasive. At least with the empathy link there was some sort of choice about whether to share emotions, but what he was talking about left me feeling vulnerable in a way I was far from comfortable with.
I took another step back. Logan’s face twisted, a shadow of the agony I’d seen etched on his face when he was chained to that wall in Hell. Except this time, I was the cause of his pain.
“Audrey, please don’t.” He reached a hand toward me. He did know what I was feeling, because I was half a second away from bolting.
A sudden stabbing pain exploded in my chest. I cried out. Was he causing this sensation? Or was I? I pressed a hand to the ache and held the other up, warding him off. He’d almost closed the distance between us without me noticing. His jaw was clenched and his hands opened and closed to fists. The muscles in his forearms bunched up.
“I just.” I choked on my words. “Right now I can’t.”
