It’s the biggest fireball I’ve ever made. I beam at Dylan.
“What are you going to do with it?” he asks.
Need to get rid of all this energy.
Take down the deer, Lucy.
I look around. Jude’s eyes burn into mine.
Get out of my head! I tell him.
I hurl the fireball at one of the ogre-like trees across the football field yard. It’s enough to startle the deer, who takes off, its tail raised in alarm. One word repeats in my brain as I focus on the tree. Burn…Burn…Burn. It takes a moment before I realize Dylan and I are chanting the words in unison. The knotted limbs snap and sizzle as they’re engulfed in flames. I can’t blink. I can’t turn away. I’m enthralled by the blaze of red, orange, and yellow. The heat soothes me.
“Beautiful,” Dylan whispers. I simply nod. There’s no better word to describe it.
Fingers snap in front of my eyes, jolting me. Jude waves his hand through the air, and the fire is extinguished. Smoke swirls up from the charred branches. Dylan releases my hand. The happiness and warmth are gone. My body suddenly feels like it’s filled with lead. I sag against the weight of it.
“You’re out of control. Both of you.” Jude stares us down, his voice sharp as steel. “I asked you to do one thing. One thing. And you disobeyed me.”
There’s no way I’m killing Bambi’s daddy.
Jude yanks us both by the arm, blasting us with electrical currents so powerful my knees buckle. I fall to the ground.
“Let me go!” I try to pull my arm free, but I’m no match for Jude.
Jude yanks hard, dragging me until my legs start to function again.
“A load of crap!” Dylan mutters, his voice thick with fatigue.
I catch a whiff of burnt hair and realize Jude singed all the hair off my left arm.
Chapter Eleven
It’s eight o’clock by the time Dylan pulls up behind Marcus’s car at the three-flat. He meets me at the passenger side door and pulls me from the car. We both slouch against the closed door.
“That was surreal,” Dylan says, rubbing his eyes. “Aiden and I spent the day beating the crap out of each other. Do you know how amazing that felt?”
I shake my head. “Jude’s right. Half right, anyway. You’re out of control.”
Dylan flashes a tired smile. “I wasn’t the one who torched the tree, little fire starter. Do you think Jude was behind that? Manipulating things?”
“Based on how mad he was, I would say no.” I turn to Dylan. “Can you believe Jude was able to drag both of us across his yard. I mean, I’m sort of puny, but you’re…” I gesture to Dylan’s buff physique, “not. He’s got superhuman strength.”
Dylan frowns. “We should probably keep that in mind before we disobey him in the future.”
I recall Aiden’s furious expression before I hurled fireballs at him. “Speaking of scary. You need to be careful. I think you made an enemy today.”
Dylan’s eyebrows pull together. “Things started out really well. Aiden taught me some awesome techniques. I now know it’s not just about brute strength, but also how I maneuver. It’s about skill. Strategy.”
There’s no missing the excitement in his voice. “Then why were you trying to take him apart?”
Dylan crosses his arms over his chest. He’s silent for a moment, and I wonder if he’ll tell me.
“He warned me to keep things platonic with you, that he has Marcus’s back. Essentially, he told me to stay away from you or else.” He glances at me. “And for the record, it wasn’t my intention to try and rip his arm off. Things just…escalated.”
My mouth falls open. I can’t believe Aiden would stick his nose into my relationship with Marcus. Part of me is glad to see him acting like a real brother to Marcus, but another part of me is pissed. Who does Aiden think he is, doubting my loyalty?
Is it possible Aiden caught Dylan watching me? Dylan does that sometimes. I ignore it. Dylan understands I’m in love with Marcus. Problem is Aiden won’t ignore that.
“I should get inside.” I push off his car.
Dylan pulls me into a hug, his hands rubbing my back. Just as I’m about to pull away, my arms and legs start to tingle. I pull away.
“Did you feel that?” I ask.
Dylan nods. “Probably just a weird hiccup from earlier.”
All those swirling emotions while Dylan and I connected at Jude’s house. Was it simply a matter of our demon powers merging? Or was it something else? “Yeah, probably.”
“Take it easy, and I’ll see you at school on Monday.” He walks around the car and pauses. “And think about what I said earlier. If you and Katie need a ride to school, call me.”
“I’ll get back to you on that. Thanks.”
Dylan salutes me before ducking into his car. I wave, then make my way up the sidewalk, not sure what to make of that strange energy exchange. Is it possible it’s some kind of demon thing, similar to Jude and me zapping each other?
A figure emerges from the shadows. I jump backward and swear under my breath before I realize it’s Marcus.
“You really need to announce yourself or something.” I press my hand against my pounding heart, willing it to slow down. I haven’t seen or talked to Marcus since we argued. Not even a text.
Marcus glances down the street, in the direction of Dylan’s departing car. His arms remain slack at his sides.
“Were you at Jude’s this whole time?”
I nod. “It was exhausting and annoying.” I decide not to tell him about the deer Jude wanted me to kill.
Marcus grimaces. “I’ll bet.”
My blood pressure rises. “Hey, Aiden was there, too. You can check with him if you don’t believe me.”
His lips press into a tight smile. “I believe you. I just don’t like it.”
I tuck my hairless arm behind my back. “There’s lot of things I don’t like. Trust me.”
“Like when your boyfriend acts like a jerk?”
I take a step backward, shocked. “Yes, that.”
“I’m sorry. I’d tell you I’m struggling with a whole bunch of stuff right now, that I feel like I’m sinking, but I don’t want to give you any excuses.”
“I want to help, Marcus. Let me be there for you.”
He pulls me into his embrace, and his lips brush against my forehead. I wrap my arms around him and sigh.
“I’ve missed you.” I snuggle against him, my face finding that warm spot by his throat. I sniff his neck in three places. He’s not wearing cologne.
Marcus pulls away and takes a seat on the porch. I sit next to him.
“I met with Camille again today. We had lunch and then went for a walk along the lakefront.”
“Were you off work today?”
“Yes, but I went to St. Pat’s anyway. I took Camille to meet Father Bill.”
My whole body stiffens. It took months before I got to meet Father Bill. His mom comes to town and she meets him within a week?
“Does Camille know your history with Father Bill?” I try hard not to sound jealous, but I’m not sure I’m successful.
“I told her.” Marcus doesn’t take my hand. I consider taking his, but then I notice the two inches of space between our bodies. Marcus normally presses his body to mine whenever we’re near each other. Is he angry about my long day with Dylan? Or does this have to do with Camille?
I force myself to sound upbeat. “Did you have a good time together?”
Marcus plucks a leaf from the step and twirls it between his fingers. I catch his smile in profile. There’s no happiness in it. “During our walk, Camille filled me in on her life. She and Garret moved around a lot. They lived in Alaska and Vancouver for a while. Switzerland, too.”
“Switzerland? It sounds pretty exotic.”
“Camille loved the chocolate there. She said my grandmother, who was French, used to complain about how bad American chocolate was, but that the Swiss knew how to do it right.”
“I
never knew you were French.”
He laughs and his body relaxes. “When I was little and had trouble sleeping, my mother used to sing me this silly French song.”
I wrap my hands around his arm and snuggle against him. “Sing it to me?”
He laughs again. “It’s a stupid song, but I used to beg her to sing it over and over.”
“Come on. I want to hear it.”
“If you laugh…” he warns.
“I won’t. I swear.” To make my point I cross my heart.
“Okay.”
I don’t believe him. I’ve asked him to play his guitar for me, to sing for me, and he never does. He’s private when it comes to his music. But sure enough, his rich, deep voice rings out as he sings the words. I catch only a few words, like alouette, plumerai, and le bec.
I hold it in until he’s done, and then I burst out laughing.
“You said you wouldn’t laugh,” he says before he bursts out laughing, too.
The sound of Marcus’s laughter jars me. I try to recall the last time I heard that wonderful sound, saw the brightness in his eyes. “It’s the song. I recognize it. I heard it years ago, but I don’t know what it’s about.”
Marcus rolls his eyes and nods. “It’s a dumb song about the body parts of a bird. Something about plucking the bird before cooking it.”
“Seriously? And she sang it to you to sleep? Nightmares anyone?”
“Never. Probably because I didn’t know any French.” He laughs again, but it ends with a sigh. “It sounded fun the way the words…the way my mom sang it to me.” Marcus shrugs, and I sense the happiness is fading.
I imagine Marcus as a four-year-old, his mother lying next to him, stroking his hair as she sings to him. “I can’t believe you remember it.”
Marcus twirls the leaf in his fingers, then tears it in half and tosses it. “It’s the last memory I have of her.” He blinks, and the beautiful brightness is gone from his eyes.
“So, what’s the plan?” I ask, trying to sound casual. “Is she—are they—moving back here? Or just visiting?”
“I don’t know.” Marcus frowns as he stares at the sidewalk. “Camille’s going to arrange for me to meet Garret. After that, I don’t know.” He sniffs the air. He turns to me and raises a handful of my hair to his nose. “It’s not my imagination. Why do you smell like smoke?”
Uh-oh. “It’s nothing.”
“When I ask Aiden about it, will he agree it’s nothing?” Marcus asks.
So, I tell him about torching the tree and how Dylan and I merged our powers.
His expression turns stony.
“There was this deer, you see…I didn’t want to kill it—but as far as Dylan and me? That’s nothing.” Why is this coming out all wrong?
“And your hug with Dylan at the curb when he dropped you off? That was nothing, too, right?” I hate his gruff tone.
“We’re friends, Marcus. We hug. It’s not like when you and I hug.”
How can I explain to him how much I relish hugs, whether they’re from him, Dylan, my uncles, even Dylan’s younger brother and sister, Ethan and Brandi. I need to know people care about me, that I’m not alone.
“I think hugs mean something different to Dylan,” Marcus says.
I recall the feelings coursing through me earlier, while Dylan and I were merging our powers. I ignored it then, but could Marcus be right?
No. It was all about our powers. Marcus is wrong.
“Dylan knows how I feel about you.”
“Why can’t you and Dylan train on different days?” Marcus pushes. “You have different powers, so it makes sense.”
“But Dylan is my buffer. It’s not like I need protecting from Jude, but I don’t particularly like being at his house alone.”
“So, I’ll come with you,” Marcus offers.
I give him a wide-eyed look. “Are you crazy? Jude’s effect on you is too painful. And let’s face it, he likes the effect he has on you.”
“I can take it.”
I shake my head. “I would spend the whole time worrying about you. I’d get nothing done. Jude would get mad.”
“Lucy…”
“Marcus, you don’t get it. It was Jude who dictated Dylan and I train together, not me.” I’m running out of arguments.
“I can’t win with you, can I?” Marcus hops up from the porch and storms off toward his car. “Just forget it.”
“Marcus, wait! What is that supposed to mean?”
He pivots on his heel and glares at me. “Meaning I’ll be spending a lot of time with Camille, so go do whatever you want with whomever you want.”
Is this his way of breaking up with me? “Wait, Marcus!”
But his car roars to life and he peels away from the curb.
I rush inside and slam the foyer door behind me. I gulp for air and blink away tears. Inside the apartment, my uncles watch TV—were watching TV. Now, their eyes are glued on me. I wave to them as I race to my room. “I’m going to bed.”
“Trouble in paradise?” Sheldon says to Bernard, not bothering to lower his voice. “Maybe now she’ll reconsider the vacation.”
It takes superhuman effort not to slam my door. My uncles have a strict No Door Slamming policy. I really don’t need Sheldon’s sarcasm on top of everything else.
I pace the small space of my bedroom. All of a sudden Marcus’s long-lost mother shows up and she’s golden? And where does he get off making all sorts of assumptions about Dylan? A little trust would be nice.
I change into my pajamas and go to the bathroom to wash up. After I brush my teeth, I return to the living room to kiss my uncles goodnight.
“Did you and Dylan have a fight?” Bernard asks, muting the TV.
As if they didn’t already know.
“No. Marcus and I did after I got home,” I say glumly.
Sheldon and Bernard exchange a look.
“It’s not what you’re thinking. It had nothing to do with Dylan,” I lie.
I kiss and hug them stiffly, then return to my room.
Sheldon calls after me. “Persephone stopped by. She said the two of you are supposed to get together tomorrow. Continue that closet project you were working on.”
I press my hands to my temples. Crap. I forgot about Persephone. It doesn’t matter. Marcus isn’t going to want to spend the day we me tomorrow anyway.
“Thanks for the reminder,” I call back.
Once in bed, I stare at the ceiling. My freak-out mellows a little. Marcus and I had our second fight in a week. My heart races. Is it possible he’ll fall out of love with me?
Tap…tap…tap…
The sound is almost too faint to hear.
Tap…tap…tap…
I jump out of bed, my heart swelling with hope, and fling open my window. Without waiting for Marcus to say a word, I wave him inside. We stand there, face to face.
I speak first. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Marcus asks.
I search my mind for an answer.
Marcus exhales heavily and steps closer to me. “Lucy, you don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But you left…”
“And I realized I was being a jerk, so I circled back.” Marcus takes hold of my hands. “This stuff with my parents, it’s got me all messed up. I shouldn’t be freaking out about Dylan. I trust you.”
“Don’t take off like that again,” I tell him, my insides so full of air I can’t expand my lungs and my voice comes out a whisper. “I thought…” It’s not like the world would end without Marcus. Right? My heart squeezes in response.
Marcus sighs. “I’m not going anywhere.” He pulls me into his arms.
I swallow the golf ball sized lump in my throat. Am I that transparent? I’ve always been able to hide my feelings. Not with him, apparently.
“It was a fight. That’s all,” Marcus strokes my hair.
The relief is immediate and euphoric. I tug at the collar of his shirt with one hand an
d pull his face to mine with the other. Our lips meet and I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer still. The idea that I could lose him terrifies me. I kiss him, my desperation igniting something else, a longing deep inside. I groan as Marcus runs his hands along my hips, my back, until they simply clutch me against him.
Our kiss deepens. My fingers run through his hair, down his cheek, to his neck. I recall the night of my birthday when I was blown off the three-flat roof. The night I discovered he had wings. He saved me. He keeps saving me.
Marcus pulls away. “We need to stop.”
My body cries out in protest. “Marcus…no.” I hook my finger through the belt loop on his jeans, preventing him from pulling away further.
“Lucy, I came here to apologize. I said things I didn’t mean. And…” Marcus rakes his fingers through his hair. “I want to do this, but I can’t.”
“You won’t lay down with me?”
His eyes grow wide for just a second. “Uh…no. Bad idea.”
He winds his fingers through mine, raises them to his lips, and kisses my fingertips. “I love you.”
I’ll never get tired of hearing that. “I love you, too, but I really wish you’d stay.”
Marcus presses his lips to my forehead. “Sweet dreams. We’ll see each other tomorrow.”
He turns and climbs out the window.
I slump onto my bed. It seemed so easy for him to walk away. My insides continue to churn as I imagine our kiss going further. I envision Marcus lying beside me, his fingers stroking my arm, my hip, giving me shivery goose bumps, before pulling me close.
I grab my pillow and press it to my face, muffling my frustrated groan. I relive our agonizing kiss over and over until I finally fall asleep.
Chapter Twelve
“I decided that instead of having you bury your nose in your Gram’s books and memorize the herbs, you might learn better through practical application.” Persephone slides a white mortar and pestle to the center of her countertop. I remember standing at Gram’s kitchen counter crushing dried herbs.
A cloud passes over Persephone’s face. How many times did she and Gram work together, making potions and casting spells? She must miss Gram as much as I do. Maybe more.
The Girl and the Gargoyle: Book Two of The Girl and the Raven Series Page 6
