Naomi’s eyes were large, and made Ryn realize why not all lies were spoken with malice. “Why not?”
Staring at her fingers, Ryn refused to look back up. “There will always be more. There is no end to monsters. Even if there were, it wouldn’t be over for you. Because it…” She didn’t know the right words; she tried the best ones she could find. “It echoes. Even in safe, well-lit places, it echoes.”
“The fear?”
“Yes.” But Ryn couldn’t let that be the end of it, so she looked at Naomi again and showed her a tight fist. “But there is me.”
One of Naomi’s eyebrows went higher than the other as she examined that fist. “Counting the change in your pockets, you might weigh a hundred pounds. Thanks, though.”
Ryn wished she knew the magic of words—Naomi and Kessler and Ms. Cross all did, and had the power to make people see with nothing but strung-together sounds, yet that distinctly human magic could never be hers. If only she could hunt a bull elk and drop it dead at Naomi’s feet; if only she could show her with deft hands what her idiot words couldn’t: Look now at me. The dark is terrible, surrounds you, and is never empty as it seems. Though monsters lurk, know this: none is hungrier than me.
Instead, Ryn had only: “I am one hundred and three pounds.”
“Oh, all right then.” Her smile was radiant. “So long as you keep an eye on me, I think everything will be all right.”
Ryn’s hand did something it ought never do—and the oath came too quickly to stop. With a sureness she shouldn’t have felt, she crossed one finger over her heart, an action no deva could do without binding her immortal will. “I vow to protect you.”
And like that, Ryn’s course would never alter. She could no more break a vow than she could die.
Yet Naomi laughed through her tears, hiding her smile behind that pillow and peeping over. “How are you like this? You’re putting on an act, aren’t you?”
Ryn scowled. “My vows are absolute.”
“You’re the most adorably intense creature I’ve ever met.”
Adorable! The outrage stiffened her every fiber.
“Easy! Whoa, sorry.” This time her giggle ended in a snort, which made her hide her whole face in the pillow. “It’s a—a tough adorable. Relax.” Lowering the barrier again, she gave Ryn another one of those searching looks. “Bet you’re a hellcat in the ring.”
The levity in her voice—that tone was mockery, Ryn realized, and she pressed her fingertips to her own face, because it had warmed in response. It had never done anything of the sort before, and the realization fired her cheeks hotter.
Naomi stood, eyes soft. “You’re amazing at cheering me up; but I’m sorry, now you’re going to get hugged. I’m an unstoppable force so don’t even try to avoid it.”
Before Ryn could figure out whether to hide, Naomi wrapped both arms around her unyielding frame.
“Thanks, Ryn.” Those words came on soft breath against her ear and neck, plucking away her anxieties; relaxing into the embrace, Ryn let the scent overwhelm her, inhaling as quietly as she could for fear it wasn’t a normal thing to do—and the heat in her cheeks made her worry for once what a mortal thought normal.
When Naomi backed up, Ryn could feel the vacancy left behind.
They both stood, the silence that Ryn normally loved turned awkward. She hoped Naomi would fill it with more soothing words, but Naomi seemed at a loss for them too.
Ryn said the only thing she could. “Come out to dance.”
“I’d freak out.”
“I vowed to protect you.”
“I remember.” Naomi smiled with not just her mouth, but her eyes. “Going to beat up all the bad guys?”
“To the last,” Ryn swore.
“One problem. My dad would have an aneurysm, and I’m not old enough or crazy enough to fill his Senate seat.”
“Don’t tell him.”
“And the armed guard? The one with the gun?”
“A small gun.”
“But full of bullets.”
“Small bullets.”
She shook her head. “You’re insane.”
“I can show you how. If you follow.” She pointed to the window. “I will lead the way—if you desire to leave your cell.”
“It’s not a cell!”
Ryn disagreed, but also couldn’t figure out a way to convince her otherwise.
Naomi folded her arms and narrowed her eyes, seeming to mull Ryn’s offer. “Fine. You win.” She picked her pillow up, wiping the last moisture from her cheeks with the pillowcase. “Just let me get ready.” She made a whirling motion with one finger. “Turn around.”
Ryn stiffened again. “Present my back?”
“It’s your paranoia or my modesty.” She crossed her arms again, waiting.
Squelching her anxiety, the deva faced the window curtains. Naomi flitted through the room, rolling drawers in and out. Ryn heard pen scratching paper. “A note for Dad—he won’t be back until morning, but don’t want him worried I was kidnapped if he changes his plans,” Naomi murmured. “Now. Breaking-out-to-go-dancing clothes. Bingo.”
If modesty meant hiding herself from view, it would fail—a sliver of window through the curtains reflected the room, easing Ryn’s feral distaste for turning her back—right up until Naomi shed her nightshirt. It flicked over her head into the corner. Ryn caught a flash of her long back, the groove tracking the path of her spine, and the delicate contours of her shoulder blades.
The urge to stare and absorb every smooth line competed with the urge to snap her gaze to the floor. Ryn tucked her chin to chest, studying her toes as heat blazed from her ears to the back of her neck. Twice, she nearly glanced up; twice, she shook off the desire.
And it all electrified her body in unfamiliar ways, currents of air making her too aware of her exposed skin.
Naomi tapped her shoulder and Ryn whirled, hissing.
~*~
That cool, dry hiss was like a snake’s, scraping at Naomi’s dulled survival instincts and rousing them to full, heart-pounding alertness. Her mouth dried and she stared at Ryn, who bowed her head to hide her teeth as she made that sound, as though she had venomous fangs she was embarrassed to show.
But it passed, and Ryn’s body relaxed.
Only after it did could Naomi catch her breath. She swallowed, remembered herself, and spread her arms to show off the dark blue jeans, gray hoodie, and a slim white top. She liked it for subtly highlighting her shape, for how easy it was to move around in. “How do I look?”
Ryn—who wore the same hoodie, cargo pants, and dark sunglasses as last time they had met—clinically scanned Naomi’s attire. “Not warm enough.”
“You’re bad at girl-ing. Look, my winter coat is downstairs. The hoodie’s all I have up here. If we hurry to the train, I’ll be fine. You got here in yours, after all.”
“I am unlike you.”
Naomi couldn’t figure out if Ryn was arrogant or delusional, but it had a way of comforting her. It was precisely the bravado she’d needed all week. Maybe some of it would rub off. “Fine. How exactly do we get out? You bring a ladder or, I don’t know, a grappling hook or something?”
“Follow.” Ryn opened the window and hopped onto the sill, disappearing around the side in a flicker of motion.
Startled, Naomi toed to the window and peered out, seeing that Ryn had leapt onto a lip of roof four feet to the right and slightly higher up. She took one purposeful step back into her room. “Nope! No. I’ll fall.”
“Do as I did,” whispered Ryn from her perch.
“Wasn’t paying attention. Bring me a harness and carabiners and we’ll talk.”
“Step out.” Irritation in her voice now.
She’s crazy. I should not be listening to a crazy person. Yet Naomi wanted to follow. The idea of Ryn skirting into the night, leaving her to rot in her room one more evening… Sucking in a breath, she stepped onto the windowsill and refused to look down even as vertigo seized her. A tremor sh
ook her calf. She mouthed “crap crap crap” like each iteration kept her steady.
“Now jump to me,” said Ryn with too straight a face.
“It’s too high.” She peeked. Mistake. Her stomach turned over and the driveway spun, seeming more like fifty feet down than twenty.
“If you fall, I will catch you.”
“Your arms are short.”
“I will catch you.”
Why did she believe her? It wasn’t even physically possible. That arrogance. She loved it. “Okay, it’s not much higher than a pole vault,” Naomi reasoned. “Just pavement instead of a pad. What do I care, they’re only legs.” A breeze caught her hair. She sucked in a sharp breath, readied herself, looked at Ryn—that seemed to help the most—and jumped.
The ball of her right foot struck shingle. Flailing forward, Naomi slapped both hands flat to the roof’s slope. “Did it!”
“Good.”
Her pride glowed at the compliment, until Ryn spidered up the roof’s slope with preternatural ease. “How is she so good at that?” she whispered to herself, following in a halting crawl that never peeled more than one hand or foot from the incline at once.
At the apex, Ryn guided Naomi with a finger point to walk the length of the roof to the crown of a tree on the other side of the house. “You first.”
Sensing Ryn’s penetrating stare as she took her first cautious steps, Naomi found herself wondering what the strange girl thought of her agility. No one had ever made her feel uncoordinated before; she focused on not messing up—and wouldn’t have, if her heel hadn’t planted on a rotted shingle.
It skidded down the roof and carried her with it. Naomi pitched toward the roof’s edge. She toppled shoulders first, sensing the ground more than twenty feet below. Her mouth went slack, a scream leaping from her center.
Before she’d fallen two feet—before she could belt out a scream—she landed lightly in Ryn’s arms, cradled at roof’s edge like a dancer swept back. Her hood flopped down, auburn hair spilling out, and Ryn’s other hand clapped to her mouth.
Panting, staring wide-eyed into the raven-haired girl’s emotionless sunglasses, she could feel the riot of her pulse in her own throat. Her hands clutched Ryn’s forearm. It was corded, lean, and though entirely too small, Naomi sensed power beneath her fingertips—a lot of it. And she was confused. She was behind me a second ago. How did she move like that? No one can move like that…
The smile that crept onto Ryn’s mouth was slight and satisfied, yet it thoroughly intimidated. Before now, Naomi had been in her element, but out here in the winter air and on the rooftop, this wildling seemed more in hers—and that was the reason for the smile, she realized. Ryn had gotten to show her a piece of who she was, and the brat was proud.
Glancing behind her at the concrete far below, she focused back on her savior. “Going to help me up or hold me here all night?”
Ryn waited a beat too long before easing her upright, and Naomi felt her racing pulse skip a beat.
She found herself regretting for the first time that Ryn hadn’t turned out to be a boy when she’d approached her in the mall last week. Would have made things much more interesting, she decided. “Thanks for the save.”
“I told you I would protect you.”
“How did you even get down here in time? That’s incredible.”
Ryn skittered to the roof’s apex, offering a hand, which Naomi took, and the girl with curiously soft fingers didn’t bother answering the question.
As Ryn led her, Naomi took notice of how fluid her steps were—how sure. “You remind me of these monkeys I saw at the zoo as a kid. Didn’t even look like they were climbing, just scampering straight up a tree or upside down on a branch. Like gravity didn’t matter.”
“Gravity matters.” She glanced back. “For you.”
“Cocky much?” Naomi realized she was using her flirty voice and wiped the egg-her-on expression from her face. She kind of looks like a boy. If I squint. Except no, not really. She was actually pretty beneath the overly large shades and hood, her curves subtle, mostly erased by baggy clothes. A pretty boy, maybe.
“Between gravity and me, I am the superior force.”
“So that’s a ‘yes’ to the cocky question?”
“Yes.” Ryn hopped almost six feet from the roof to the farthest branch of her father’s oak. Naomi stood fascinated by the balance of weight as she landed, straightened, and spun, all the work in the balls of her feet. It was beautiful. A ballerina at the Met couldn’t have done it better, yet Ryn just waited, expectantly, for Naomi to follow suit as though it were the easiest thing in the world.
Naomi shook her head. No.
Sighing, Ryn gripped an upper branch, leaned out, and closed the distance partway with her hand.
Swallowing her doubts—and her stomach, which had risen into her throat—Naomi threw herself off the roof. Her fingers scraped Ryn’s in the air, the other girl’s grip firmed, and when her feet thudded onto the branch, the girl’s opposite hand clapped hold of her hip.
It steadied her. Somehow, just that hand on her hip was all it took to sap the wobble from Naomi’s stance even as the branch they shared bobbed up and down. Once more, she sensed power there entirely out of proportion to Ryn’s lithe build and short stature.
“You’re strong for your size.” Naomi glanced down at the hand on her hip, feeling her cheeks warm.
“I am.” Ryn twirled her on the branch, somehow changing their positions without looking away.
And Naomi had done it with her, on instinct, their bodies able to communicate without words. “You’re the most bizarre person I’ve ever met,” she whispered.
Ryn broke the tension by pointing her toward the wall. It was only as she climbed across branches toward it that Naomi realized why her spirit felt so light.
She wasn’t scared anymore. It was the first time in a week, and the very air tasted sweeter for it.
Ryn dropped to the sidewalk on the other side of her dad’s stone wall, lifting hands to signal she’d catch Naomi. Sitting on the wall, glancing down at the raven-haired girl’s come-down-here gesture, a swell of joy rose in her center. She makes me feel safe.
Pushing off the wall, she let Ryn clap hands to her hips again, absorbing the shock of her descent more thoroughly than anticipated. It wasn’t until she was lowered gently to her heels that she remembered to breathe.
“This way.” Ryn led her down the sidewalk toward the train station. “You’re shivering.”
It was from the cold, which was worse than expected. But Naomi was also bursting with excitement to go dancing. In addition to washing the horror from her mind, Ryn had reminded her how fun it could be to move in time with someone’s body—and if she knew Elli and Denise, they’d have boys lining up.
~*~
Their train accelerated, whisking them from the station. Ryn stood guard over Naomi, who huddled in her seat, teeth chattering. Her nose had turned bright pink, but she wasn’t huddling entirely from the cold. Ryn could tell she wilted at the presence of a nearby passenger who wore a scarf that covered most of his face.
From Ryn’s place in the aisle by Naomi’s seat, she could kill that man if he approached. She could kill or maim virtually anyone, no matter their approach. That was why she stood there.
Naomi didn’t know these things, though, and so when the man in the scarf shifted abruptly, she shrank one size smaller.
At their changeover station in Commonwealth Plaza, Naomi hurried from the train and Ryn kept to her shadow, scenting for asura and worrying faintly about the way Naomi rubbed her shoulders for warmth.
Naomi blew warmth into her hands. “You stand and look around like Mark—the bodyguard my dad hired.”
“Then Mark knows how to stand and look.”
She felt Naomi inspecting her; it should have bothered her, but it didn’t. “Are you some kind of professional criminal?”
“No.”
“Recreational crime only, then?”
&n
bsp; Ryn thought on it a moment and nodded.
“Explain it to me. Why you’re guarded, and stealthy, and creepily acrobatic. Were you bitten by a radioactive goth? Should I be worried you’ll bite me and turn me vampire?”
“I don’t bite people I like.”
Naomi snorted. “Even if they ask nice?”
Ryn frowned, knowing she had missed something.
“Where does someone like you even come from?”
“An older kind of place.”
Another silence. “The place you’re from was violent.”
“Very.”
“That’s how you knew about my fear. Horror-fear, you called it.”
“You also have prey-fear.”
“Explain that to me too.” Naomi leaned into her and stuffed all her frigid fingers at once into one of Ryn’s pockets.
Going rigid at the unexpected contact, Ryn was at a loss.
“You’re warm. Mind if I borrow some body heat?” Even her voice felt good, humming into Ryn’s ear, and it took her senses time to adjust, to become aware of anything in the world besides Naomi.
When she had, she remembered the question. “Prey-fear.” It was hard to think. “It comes from being ambushed and realizing predators exist. It sharpens your vigilance at first.”
“So it’s good?”
“Awareness is. But prey-fear fosters paranoia. Overreaction.”
“So when Dad wants to pass a law so that seventeen-year-old assault victims can carry concealed firearms, he might have a teensy bit of prey-fear?”
It sounded like a good law to Ryn.
“Are you afraid of anything?”
“No,” she snapped.
“Come on,” Naomi sang, stretching the second word. “You know too much not to have felt it.” She made a “hmm” sound, one that put her warm breath on Ryn’s neck, eliciting a squirm that wasn’t entirely from discomfort. “Crowds. Are you afraid of those?”
“I hate them,” Ryn growled.
She laughed. “Yet you’re going dancing?”
Ryn glanced away. “To guard you.”
“If you hate crowds, why are you even hanging out with me? My dad’s a senator, and during campaign season there are reporters in our house every other day. You might have picked a bad friend if the public eye bothers you.”
The One Who Eats Monsters (Wind and Shadow Book 1) Page 13
