THE MINUTE I got home all thoughts of the Murdochs, revenants and even Theo slid away. Caitlín was waiting in the hallway outside the apartment. A mixture of feelings washed over me: love, relief, anger . . . I couldn’t put my finger on any one of them, simply noticing the confused tangle of emotions and trying to focus on the most important fact: Caitlín was OK. She was here.
My younger sister was sitting like a tired sentinel on the worn carpet opposite the apartment door. Her head rested on her knees, long red hair a flame flowing down her legs. I often wondered why it was that both Sinéad and Caitlín had inherited Dad’s coloring, while I was the only one who had followed our mother. We all had the O’Neal pale skin but mine had always been more smooth and creamy, lacking the freckles that plagued my sisters every summer. Sometimes it struck me that I’d never seen a vampire with freckles, but I suppose that made sense – especially the older and more sun-sensitive they got.
Caitlín raised her head. ‘Sis!’
I pushed aside all thoughts of Theo and dead kids; even the possibility of my own death if my Maker didn’t succeed in his task.
‘Oh my God! Cait, what are you doing here? Why didn’t you call?’
She shrugged as she stood and pulled her curls back with both hands. She had a green scrunchy in her hand that matched her eyes, and quickly twiddled it into her hair. ‘I did call. You never answer your phone.’
‘Oh.’ I felt in my pockets – all of them. ‘My cell phone’s gone.’ Had I dropped it at Jace’s? Left it in the bathroom? I couldn’t remember.
‘I’ve been waiting here for ages, Marie,’ she said. Just hearing her voice pushed away all concerns about my stupid phone. Who cared about that? My little sister was OK! She was here.
Caitlín was almost as petite as me, standing only an inch taller. We were both small-boned, but that’s where the similarities ended. The hair was the obvious difference, although the way we dressed was another. Cait was all about the colors; today her bright pink sneakers clashed wildly with her hair, and the emerald-green T-shirt with multi-colored miniature fairies on it was classic Caitlín.
She grabbed me in a hug and held on like she never wanted to let go. I felt my frozen heart expand in my chest. God, I loved my sister so much it hurt. I held on tight, but not too tight for fear of crushing her shoulders. Dropping my head to Caitlín’s shoulder I took a deep breath and let her scent wash over me, grounding me. Reassuring me that she really was OK.
‘Hey,’ she said, pulling away. ‘You’re sort of damp, dude. What happened?’
‘Got caught in the rain, but forget that. What’ – here I fixed my sister with a mock-serious look – ‘are you even doing here?’
‘Oh, well that’s just lovely. Thanks, sis, it’s good to see you too.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Shut up. Of course I’m happy to see you – I was going crazy with worry when Sinéad turned up here earlier today telling me you’d gone missing.’
‘Sinéad came here?’ Caitlín’s pretty face flushed. ‘God, she’s such a dick.’
‘Hey, mind your language.’ It was a joke between us, me telling her off for cursing. I loved how easily we slipped into the familiar banter. It felt almost as good as sliding on a favorite pair of comfortable slippers and putting your feet up. By a warm fire. In winter.
Caitlín scowled, but my eyes must have been shining with the cheeky humor I loved. Only she probably couldn’t tell because of the contacts. She said, ‘You can talk. Every other word out of your mouth is “freakin’ this” and “freakin’ that”.’
I shrugged. ‘That’s not even real cursing. I’m a good Catholic girl.’
‘Riiight.’ Caitlín stretched out the word far longer than necessary, waggling her eyebrows at the same time.
Laughing, I unlocked the apartment door. I felt light-headed with relief. ‘So, are you coming in or did you want to camp out in my hallway for the rest of the night?’
I still had the apartment to myself, since Holly would have gone straight from Subterranean to her shift at the courier company. God only knew what she’d say if she knew I had yet another member of my human family at the apartment. I was grateful for the reprieve. For the space and time with my little sister.
After I’d taken a deep breath and called Sinéad from the landline to let her know Caitlín was safe, we curled up in the living room, one at either end of the couch.
I also made a quiet call to Theo, to let him know I’d spotted Thomas Murdoch. Because my luck is what it is, I got Kyle instead. He tried to cover his surprise, but I could tell he wondered how I’d gotten the information about Murdoch. Theo had already left to go hunting, but his Enforcer promised to track him down and pass on the message. He told me I had done well. I wished Theo had a cell phone, but that was one modern gadget he refused to carry.
I tucked my feet under me and pressed my cheek against the purple velvet cushion behind me. I wrapped my hands more tightly around the mug of hot chocolate, irritated that the color reminded me of Jace’s eyes. Jesus, I was turning into a total sap. Thinking about his eyes reminded me that he was going to look totally worse for wear tomorrow, but I pushed my sympathy to one side.
Caitlín was in the middle of a tirade against Sinéad. ‘And then she told me that I was in danger of turning into a dropout like . . .’ Her voice trailed off and she glanced guiltily at me. ‘Well, like you.’
‘What a surprise,’ I said dryly. Like I cared what my uptight older sister thought of me. It wasn’t as though I was getting new information.
Caitlín squirmed against her own pile of cushions. ‘Yeah, sorry sis.’
I couldn’t resist smiling. ‘No worries. I’m not exactly surprised.’
‘So?’ Caitlín said.
‘What?’
‘So what did Sinéad say when you called?’
‘I already told you; you just weren’t listening.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘She was relieved. Honestly, Cait, she was practically crying.’ She rolled her eyes but I ignored her. ‘Sinéad wanted to pick you up right now, but I convinced her that we’d get you home in the morning. She wants you on the first train we can manage tomorrow.’
Caitlín leaned forward. ‘I’d far rather live here, in the city.’ The words came out in a rush and she flushed as she said them.
OK, this was new. I frowned. ‘Really? Since when?’
‘Hello? Since forever. I hate being stuck with Dad. Martha Stewart I can almost put up with, but him? He’s really starting to bug me.’
‘Bug you, how?’ Much as it worried me to think of my little sister wanting to run away to live in the big city, I didn’t want her to be unhappy.
She shrugged. ‘The usual. You know . . .’ She paused and we shared a moment of empathy. Yeah, I really did know. Dad could drink with the best of them.
‘But, Caitlín . . . what about school?’
‘What about it? It’s the same stupid city. I can commute. I could even transfer. I’ve only just started Junior year anyway, so maybe it would work out.’
‘But what would you do here?’ I tucked my chin against my knees.
Caitlín was absent-mindedly picking at her already chipped nail polish. ‘I could get a part-time job, stay with you, pay my way . . .’
I felt myself deflate. ‘Oh, Cait. You really wouldn’t want to do that.’
‘Why not?’ She lifted her chin in a gesture that was all too familiar. With a stab of sadness, I pictured Mom doing the exact same thing – the stubborn set of her jaw when she was pissed about something.
‘What about Oscar?’ I tried appealing to her love for the family dog, knowing I was probably fighting a losing battle. Oscar (named for Oscar Wilde) was riddled with arthritis and on his last legs. Despite her fondness for him, my sister was a realist. ‘Cait, you’re better off with Dad and Sinéad.’ I hated saying it, but it was true. How could my sister live with me? It was impossible. Even if Caitlín knew and accepted all there was to know and accept about my life – the monster hiding in the shadows, and the unspo
ken truths between all the lies – it just wasn’t practical. A human teenager living with vampires? No way. And where would we live? Not with Holly, that’s for sure.
‘It’s not just that,’ she confessed, looking away.
‘OK.’ Why did I get the impression that I wasn’t going to like this?
‘I’m worried about you. You never come to visit and I don’t understand why. Something’s changed – and I’m not just talking about Mom. I mean, something else.’
I fiddled with my mug, trying to think of what I could say. I hated lying to Caitlín, I really did. But what if I contemplated, even for a moment, telling her the truth? What would it mean?
‘See?’ Caitlín said. Her tone was accusing. ‘You’re thinking up more lies to tell me.’
‘Cait! I . . . I’m sorry. There are things I just can’t talk about.’ I knew how lame it sounded as soon as the words left my mouth.
She fixed me with that familiar stubborn expression. ‘I followed you today, you know.’
I froze. ‘What?’
‘Yeah,’ she said, warming to her subject. ‘Followed you across Boston Common and watched you climb a wall like you’re Spider-Girl or something.’
I swallowed, trying to come up with an excuse that would make sense. Failing miserably. I knew someone had been following me! Now I sincerely wished I’d taken the time to investigate.
But it was too late now.
‘Are you, like, some kind of superhero?’ Caitlín had the good grace to blush. It sounded ridiculous, sure, but the truth was actually even stranger. My truth was a hell of a lot more scary, and I wondered if she was ready for it.
I rubbed my face, trying to scrub away the sadness and regret. I sat up straight, fixing my sister with the most serious look I could. I was exhausted – worried about all the crap going on right now – but this was my sister. The only human being I loved this deeply. I had to make Caitlín understand that her place wasn’t here in the city; at least, not with me. It would be like introducing a rare and delicate flower into a bed of weeds, and then waiting for it to choke.
Now, Caitlín was giving me a strange look. ‘What’s wrong with your eye?’
My stomach clenched. ‘What do you mean?’
She leaned forward and reached out a tentative hand. ‘Your left eye, it looks funny.’ She squinted. ‘Hey, are you wearing contacts?’
Oh. Crap. I stood up, far too quickly, and began moving in the direction of the bathroom. ‘Um . . . yeah. I told you I was getting old. I’ve got glasses but hate wearing them.’ Liar, liar.
But Caitlín wasn’t my sister for nothing. When she got hold of something that she found interesting, she was implacable. I suddenly flashed on an image of her asking Mom questions about her cancer. It had taken all my strength not to scream at fourteen-year-old Caitlín to just leave Mom alone. Can’t you see what you’re putting her through? But our mother had patiently answered all of her youngest daughter’s questions with her usual grace.
Unfortunately for me, Caitlín had that look in her eye now; the fierce expression of a cat watching an injured bird trying to escape, while preparing to go in for the kill. ‘Let me see,’ she said, touching my arm and trying to look past the long strands of curly black hair that were hiding my eyes.
I wanted to push Caitlín away; it would be easy. So easy to twist out of her grip and escape to the bathroom, the only room with a lock on the door. Fix the contact lens, go back out and come up with some bullshit that might placate my sister.
I felt my whole body sag. No amount of lying would convince Caitlín that there wasn’t something bizarre happening.
‘Holy crap, you’ve got silver eyes!’ Caitlín yelled. She took a step forward and stared. Her eyes were round with . . . shock? Disgust? I couldn’t tell for certain. All I knew was that I felt ridiculously weak, as though I might faint at any moment.
‘Wait, let me explain—’
‘You’re not getting out of this, Marie. No way. I saw what I saw earlier, and now this. I’ve had some crazy suspicions about you for way longer than you probably realize.’
I tried to turn away from her. Tried to fix the stupid contact lenses.
‘Dude, you look so beautiful.’
‘It’s not what you— Wait. What did you say?’
Caitlín’s whole face was alight. ‘I said, you look amazing. OK, sort of weird but totally stunning. Beautiful.’
I swallowed. This was actually going a lot better than I’d expected. I didn’t know what to say so I stood there, nervously squeezing the ruined lens between the fingers of my right hand.
‘Marie . . .’ Caitlín’s voice sounded more grown up. ‘Don’t tell me this is just a trick of the light, or you’re wearing contacts underneath your contacts.’ Her pale face was composed and strangely dignified.
I knew my eyes were shimmering wildly; it really was difficult to hide my emotions with eyes this expressive. ‘Caitlín, there’s so much you don’t know about me. And it’s not what you think. It’s not something . . . good.’ I bowed my head. ‘I’m not a superhero.’
‘I don’t care. You can tell me anything.’
‘I’m not even sure where to start,’ I said.
‘Start at the beginning,’ Caitlín replied, a gentle smile on her face. ‘Isn’t that usually the best place?’
The beginning . . .
He tells me everything I thought I’d never hear.
Mom is gone and I hurt in ways I never even knew were possible. I am eighteen years old. For real: eighteen. I’ve barely started my first semester at college after Mom died. I don’t know if I even care about school anymore, but it gives me something to focus on. And I do care about art. I care about drawing comic books. That’s what I tell myself.
Then I see Theo. He is talking to a group of Goth kids and they are all completely in love with him. The girls and the boys – though he seems more interested in the girls. OK, if I’m being honest, he is mostly interested in me.
I can’t figure it out. Me. Quiet little Marie, who still hasn’t come out from my older sister’s shadow; who is still afraid of her father’s temper.
I am drawn to him like . . . well, like a moth to a flame.
I think he is lonely . . . Theo singles me out. Something about my blood sings to him, he tells me. I can’t decide if this is weird or romantic. Weirdly romantic? He calls me m’anamchara because he knows I’ll understand it, coming from good old-fashioned Irish stock. My soulmate. Theo always knows exactly what to say.
I want him so much. He is so beautiful. I love how his black hair shines under the moon when we sit in ‘our place’ on some benches by the Charles River. I dangle my legs over the edge while he laughs at me. I love the curve of his lips, just a little too full to be as masculine as his biker clothes would have you believe. His nose is just like a hawk’s, but so noble; I love to trace the curve with my finger and watch as he smiles with those white, white teeth.
Oh, and his eyes . . . when we are with the others they are gray, cool stone after rain. But when we are together they shine as silver as the stars. I think I am imagining things because I am so in love with him.
I know he isn’t human, even though I have no real idea of what he could possibly be or what that might mean. It is like a sense of something – intuition of the most basic kind, no more than that. But no human could be that beautiful. I don’t care, anyway, even when he scares me, because simply being with him makes me feel free.
He listens to me too. Listens like he really cares about what I have to say. Just to sit with him, to talk with him – those things make my heart soar . . .
As the memories flooded through me, I began to talk softly, to tell Cait how I’d first met Theo – how my want for him had gone so much deeper than I’d ever thought possible.
‘Back then, I had nothing to compare it to,’ I said. ‘Now I know what that stomach-wrenching desire really feels like. Sorry. This is sort of heavy.’
She reached for her cold tea and
wouldn’t quite meet my eyes. ‘It’s OK. Go on, I want to hear this – I want to know about this guy. Theo. What was he doing at school, hanging with teenagers? Sounds kind of gross to me – he looks way older than you.’
I almost laughed at the understatement, but managed to restrain myself. I didn’t want to risk sounding hysterical.
‘He made me feel so freakin’ special, Cait,’ I said. ‘He never actually used the word “love”. He simply told me that he needed me – that I was a part of his soul he’d been missing for more years than he cared to remember. He’d been empty, fractured.
‘He called me anamchara again and again. Said that I reminded him of somebody else – although he didn’t tell me back then that he meant his wife. But I’m getting ahead of myself again. And this is my story, not his. It was the most significant thing that had happened in my tiny life. Who was I that this god-like being would look at me and want me in this way? I could hardly believe it, and it wasn’t long before we were kissing. The thrill of kissing someone – a man rather than a boy – a guy who would be considered completely unsuitable in Dad’s eyes was, of course, a part of the attraction. But the majority was all Theo. I’d only kissed one boy before him, and imagined that the difference would be like canned Guinness compared to the real deal on-tap in Dublin.
‘It was dizzying, Cait. The taste of him totally intoxicating as we kissed in the moonlight. It reminded me of those Victorian romances you love so much – and don’t start protesting, you know you can’t stop reading them. Only my Mr Rochester had a far darker secret hidden in the attic than a crazy wife. That would be child’s play for Theo.
‘We went to his house and I was overwhelmed by its beauty. Theo lit candles that he seemed to produce from out of nowhere. In the flickering flame, his dark face looked more like a pirate’s than ever. I didn’t care about whether he was just using a line on me, one he’d used on other girls so he could get them to sleep with him. The only thing I cared about as I looked into his shining silver eyes was that he’d said he wanted me.’
Cait leaned forward, eager to hear what was to come. And I didn’t disappoint.
Falling to Ash Page 14
