by Alys Arden
“It’s okay,” I say, sloshing through the water on all fours. “It’s okay.”
I stand up, the little girl still on my back, and lean on the cabin. The truck bobs up and down with the waves. Her knees feel permanently lodged into my ribs.
Wheezing, I try to suck in big breaths. I pry her arms from around my neck and let her drop down to the watery truck bed, the need for air suddenly outweighing everything else.
She clings to my leg, screaming, and her fear ripples through me. Still panting, and my arms still like jelly, I lift her back up, but I can’t comfort her. I can only hold her, gripping the top of the truck cabin as I choke up brown water.
The truck rocks back and forth, waves sloshing over the sides.
The big rushing waves are over, but now the water is slowly rising. In every direction, there’s floodwater for miles—in between the rows of houses and shops and trees and floating cars. A gash bleeds steadily down my arm. A dog barks nearby, and I move to the side of the truck, searching for her in the debris. The high-pitched yelps grow closer, and the little girl in my arms screams louder, just one word, over and over again.
“Jade! Jade!”
Gasping. Choking. Drowning.
No—falling.
Shit.
I grabbed on to the edge of the bed, managing to get one foot on the floor before crashing down, my chest pounding, lungs gasping. The cool stainless steel frame in my hand felt like the edge of the truck.
I exhaled loudly, heart racing. It was more than four months ago, Isaac. Get a grip.
I checked my phone, not that I thought Adele would’ve responded in the middle of the night.
My last three messages stared back at me. Read, but unresponded to.
Isaac 23:13 Please, just talk to me so I can apologize.
Isaac 0:17 If I could write a spell that would let me start the day over, I’d do everything differently, I swear.
Isaac 0:45 I’ll fix this, I promise. Sweet dreams.
I grabbed a towel from a hook on the wall, wiped away the nightmare sweats, and stretched a plain white shirt over my head. There was no point in getting back into the bed. The chance of falling asleep again was already slim, thanks to drowning little girls slipping from my arms in my nightmares. With the fight now on my mind as well, there was no chance in hell. I hated that bed. I hated this little metal box.
And for the first time since I’d been in New Orleans, I missed home. Home in Brooklyn, where my mattress didn’t poke into my back, and where hissing steam from the radiator made everything warm and hummed me to sleep. I swung my arms, which were still sore from the anger workout.
The anger had been replaced with regret, and now that I was thinking more clearly, I just wanted to go back in time and punch that psychic in the nose, and not yell at Adele.
The worst part was that I was still worried about what he’d said—about her opening the attic. I laughed out loud, rubbing my face. Only a dope wrecks the best thing in the world because of a stranger’s crazy predictions. Christ.
I wedged into my sneakers and pulled my wool cap over my head. There was only one girl who would still want to see me at this hour, and I didn’t feel bad about waking her up. She could sleep all day.
In the pitch-black park, I hurled the ball as far as I could, and Stormy bolted off after it. I was glad she could see it, because I sure as shit couldn’t.
She raced back, gleefully bouncing up and down, ball in mouth, like she was playing in some white-picket-fenced, sunshine-drenched, petunia-filled yard. In reality, she was just a lonely, mangy-furred mutt in a condemned neighborhood. She playfully tried to keep the ball from me, but I grabbed it from her mouth and threw it again.
My phone vibrated in my pocket—I pulled it out so fast I nearly dropped it.
I sighed when I saw the name. Désirée. I swear, that girl never sleeps either.
Dee 02:07 I still think we should just go back to the cemetery and ask Marassa about ur mark.
The message was only to me, not the group. Not a good sign. The only things Dee and I ever texted about were logistics for a meet-up, or political news—keeping the other informed of tidbits heard about our pops, like each other’s personal HuffPo’s. Magic, and pretty much everything else, was reserved for the group chat.
Great, now I’ve ruined the coven.
I slipped the phone back into my pocket without responding and pulled the wool cap farther down my head, covering my ears. And Adele is never going to speak to me again, so, Nicco wins. Even trapped in an attic and unconscious, Nicco wins.
Stormy brought the ball back. I threw it again and then sat on a scraggly patch of grass, trying to imagine what the park would have looked like before the Storm. Metal pilings stuck out of a sad plot of Astroturf covered in mud. Clearly it had been some kind of playground before, but now it was just a hazard. The trees were dead and the grass was dead, all drowned in the Storm. Springs of green weeds, like little breaths of Mother Nature, popped up here and there in between all of the trash—the rotten clothes, books, toys, and random belongings that had floated away from people’s homes forever. A Monopoly board was wedged into a nearby tree like an axe, and the rusted frame of an overturned car lay where a slide might have been in another lifetime.
Stormy got in my face, sniffing and licking, her mood unaffected by the destitution.
“Adele’s going to come around, right girl?” I pushed her down, but it only riled her up more; she thought it was a game. “She can’t stay mad at me forever, can she?”
Her head bent to the ground, and a low growl rumbled from her throat, building to an aggressive yap.
I laughed. “Don’t worry, girl, there’s room in my life for the two of you.”
But she growled again, followed by a string of high-pitched barks directed over my shoulder.
Snickers burst out from behind me, and I sprang up, twisting around.
“You escape from Charity during the Storm or sumthin?” said a girl whose enormous gold hoop earrings bobbed when she spoke.
The two guys with her laughed. One was skinny and the other fat with a black bandana tied into a band around his bald head. Stormy barked even louder.
“Shhhhh,” I said, trying to calm her down.
When I glanced back up, the barrel of a baseball bat was only inches from my face. The fat guy glared down its length. “Whuddyou say to me?”
“What? I was talking to the dog.”
“You calling my girl a dog?”
“Come on, man,” I said, “don’t be a dick. I don’t want any trouble.”
Stormy went full on at the big one, growling and barking. I lunged for her just as he brought the bat down over my shoulder, missing me entirely. It smashed the ground, kicking up dirt. I scooped Stormy up and took off running to the park entrance, all three of them coming after me. I could have sped ahead easily if Stormy wasn’t twisting around in my arms, barking and trying to jump away to attack.
I flicked a tiny gust, inconspicuous enough, and the park fence swung open as we tore through. Out on the dark street, I hauled ass. Glancing back over my shoulder, I saw the skinny one grab the bat and charge ahead of the others. I just needed to gain a long-enough lead so I could duck around a corner and take crow form.
A slew of profanity and threats came from my pursuer, who was now swinging the bat over his head. “Now you’re screwed!”
When I faced forward, glints of the chain-link fence came into view—it was at least fifteen feet high. Fuck.
Instinct was to launch myself at it full speed. I knew I could climb it faster and get away. I doubt he’d even bother. But that wasn’t an option. There was no way I was leaving Stormy behind.
My sneakers slid on the gravel as I turned on my heel and sprinted back the way I came, toward the guy. The other two were not far behind him, catching up. He swung the bat, but I dodged it and peeled off into an alley.
“That’s another dead end, genius!” yelled the girl.
“Stor
my, you better be ready to book it,” I said, releasing her onto the ground. As soon as her toes hit the street, my wings were spreading into the air, and I was flapping higher, to the back of the alley. I made one long swoop around a dumpster and zoomed back the way we came. Stormy charged along beneath me, right past the thugs.
“Where’d he go?” the girl yelled.
A crash came, which I could only presume was the bat smashing into the metal dumpster.
A part of me wanted to blow them into the river, but instead I pulled up a gust and rode the current away, flying low enough for Stormy to follow.
She ran below me all the way to the train tracks, but then, as usual, she stopped. I’d hoped that maybe she’d follow me this time, since I was in animal form, but that girl wasn’t going to leave the Bywater any more than the Mets were going to win the World Series.
By the time I sailed into the Quarter, the adrenaline spike was starting to crash and I was entering 0300 hour exhaustion, but I flew past the convent, past the Voodoo shop, and Mac’s bar, which was still secretly bumping, and then past the brothel. I made the complete rounds, only to feel justified swooping down her street. If I checked on her too—it was just routine.
You’re not staying, I told myself.
But then my claws touched the cool iron, wrapping around the balcony rail across the street, and I could see her. Tonight the shade and the curtain were drawn open at the window near the piano, and her head was on the sill, nestled into her arms. A tea light, with a tiny flame, was next to her face. I took a mental shot of the image, as it begged to be immortalized on a page in my sketchbook.
I soared across the street and landed on the window ledge, the flutter of my feathers causing her to stir. She sat up with sleepy eyes and reached for the window, raising it halfway.
She’s letting me in.
Pulse thumping, I hopped through and swooped down to the ground. Never in my life had I been scared to turn back into human form, but in that moment I was.
I felt every second of it as I grew taller and her gaze moved up to meet mine, all of her attention on me as she stood in the moonlight, barefoot and bare legged, in a T-shirt so perfectly thin I could see the curve of her waist and her bare breasts through it.
I didn’t know where to look, and suddenly I couldn’t remember all the things I wanted to say, and—
“I was trying to wait up for you,” she said.
My gaze finally met hers. “What do you mean?” I wanted to move closer, to touch her waist, but wasn’t sure if she wanted me to.
“Isaac, I know that you always perch on the balcony across the street around two. You’re late.”
“Oh . . .” My throat went dry. “Not the greatest night.” Her eyes were puffy—she’d been crying, and that made my voice crack. “I’m so sorry, Adele.” I forgot to think, and I touched her arm. “I’m so, so sorry.”
She leaned in, letting me pull her close; she just stood there, not exactly reciprocating but letting me hold her against my chest.
“I don’t know what I was thinking telling Dee about the attic. Please, please don’t think you can’t trust me. You can, I swear.”
I held her a bit tighter and stroked her hair.
“Actually . . . I do know what I was thinking . . . I can’t stop imagining you around the attic all the time at school, the convent becoming more and more familiar, like a second home, where he’s so close to you and I’m not.” I couldn’t believe I’d said it out loud—that I admitted it to her.
She broke away, just enough to look up at me. “Do you really believe I’m going to open the attic to save Nicco?”
“No . . .”
“Because you didn’t stop me from opening the attic that day. I stopped myself. And I’m not going to let you punish me for something I didn’t even do.”
“I’m not trying to punish you—I know I wasn’t the one who stopped you.” I wrapped my arms around her again, and she rested her head on my shoulder. “I don’t think you’re going to open the attic to save him.”
I don’t know what I believed about the attic, but I believed in her, and I needed her to know that.
Her voice was small when she finally spoke. “Do you really think I’m bad at magic?”
“Jesus, no.” Fucking moron, Isaac. What were you thinking? “You’re awesome at magic. Your magic kicks my magic’s ass.”
“Yeah, right,” she scoffed.
“If you want to know a secret—and if you ever tell Dee I said this, I’ll lie and deny it—I think your natural magical ability drives her nuts.”
“You’re so full of it. You guys are insanely better than me.”
“Yeah, because we practice all the time.” I pulled her away and looked her in the eye so she could see how much I meant it. “You don’t even need to practice. You just are good.”
She blushed. It was true, even if she didn’t want to admit it. And that’s one of the reasons she’s so incredible—she hadn’t even noticed that she’s better than us in any way. She smiled, and I knew she was considering it.
My hand slipped underneath her jaw, and I kissed her, softly, my lips barely touching hers. It was only when she kissed me back that the piano-size anvil lifted from my shoulders.
Her hands moved up my chest, her nose bumping mine. “I . . . I don’t want to fight.”
“Me neither.” The words came out a whisper, but I meant it more than anything. Her arms circled around my neck, and I kissed her less gently, reaching one arm out behind her to shut her window.
“Wait!” She broke away, tensing up. “You can’t stay the night.”
“Oh . . . I thought. It’s just . . . it’s so late.” I kissed her again. “It’s after three . . .”
And even though she kissed me back, I could feel her pulling away, so I stopped. I tightened my arms but rested my forehead against hers. “What’s the difference? I have to be at work in a couple hours.”
She smirked. “You cannot stay the night if you want to be my boyfriend for more than the next couple of hours.”
When the subsequent pause became too long, she looked up, catching me. “Why are you so smiley?”
“That’s the first time you’ve ever called me your boyfriend.” I buried my face beneath her hair, my lips brushing her neck, embarrassed for her to see how much it pleased me.
“No, it’s not,” she barely managed to say as I let each kiss linger.
“It most definitely is.” My lips nipped her earlobe, and her body pressed deeper into mine. When my arms slid around her, accidentally hiking the thin T-shirt up over her stomach, she didn’t seem to care about tugging it down.
She pulled my face back to hers and kissed me with a need that I wanted to feel forever.
I told myself that the next time I felt the need to mouth off about the attic, I’d remember the flowery taste of chamomile tea on her lips, and the scent of the sophisticated French perfume that always lingered in her hair, and the way her Fire-magic fingers tingled against my skin.
How I wanted her more than I knew I could.
I slowly pulled in a draft through the window until the posters on her walls lightly rustled around us.
“Oh my God!” Her arms locked around my neck, gripping me tight as the air whirled, taking us up.
“Just relax,” I whispered. “I’ve got you.” Her heart raced against my chest through that perfectly thin T-shirt. “I’ll never let you fall.”
She nodded and relaxed, letting my magic support some of her weight. I kissed her softly, and as she became more confident in the air, she kissed me more passionately, tightening her arms and pulling herself closer. As my hands roamed over her hips, her back arched, and I kissed her harder, all several feet above the floor in a swirl of air and magic.
I’d never let her go.
CHAPTER 19
The Corpse Whisperer Strikes Again
January 3rd
“Isaac . . . ?”
My nose was cold.
“Isaac?�
��
I snapped awake. A figure, dark against the winter sky, stepped back, as if I might have a physical reaction to being woken up. Callis. Smart guy.
“Hey,” I said, blinking my phone on: 0425 hours.
I’d only been asleep for twenty-one minutes, but it felt like I was coming out of a deep hibernation.
After having to book it out of Adele’s window when Mac came home earlier than usual, I’d gone home to change but hadn’t dared to sit on my bed out of fear of falling asleep and not waking up. So I came straight to the house we were starting today and must have crashed out on the porch.
“Rough night?” Callis asked.
“Started out that way. Got better.” I knew I was smiling too hard as I rubbed my eyes, but I was way too tired to stop it.
“Nice,” he said, sitting next to me on the step, lightly hitting my shoulder. Some kind of universal bro-code of approval.
Not getting-laid nice, I wanted to say, but I didn’t. I mean, he was going to be working with my girlfriend; he didn’t need to know about her private life. I adjusted the wool cap to cover my ears, feeling strangely territorial.
“I hear we got fresh blood this morning?” a voice boomed.
We walked down to the street. “AJ, meet Callis. Callis, AJ.”
As they shook hands, I stretched, trying to wake up. I hoped the dark would work in Callis’s favor, and that AJ wouldn’t see how sickly he looked. Although, I didn’t think Habitat or FEMA would turn anyone down; they were so desperate for able bodies.
“You ever lifted a hammer?” AJ asked.
“I’ve got some experience with electrical, but I’m guessing that won’t come in too handy right now.”
“If you can spell electrical, that’s more experience than some of the kids I’ve got. Shadow Isaac today. Then hang around afterwards to fill out paperwork.”
