Salt

by Danielle Ellison

  “You ready to go?” Carter asks, ignoring his father. I nod and his hand rests on the small of my back as he leads me out the door.

  We make it a few feet before my phone rings. Poncho’s voice is low on the other end. I’d given him my number the first day, though I never thought he’d use it.

  “I found something.”

  I leave Carter outside, insisting that I’ll only be a minute.

  There’s no movement in the library. No cats, no breeze. I start to say Poncho’s name when he appears from the stacks and puts a finger over my mouth. His eyes are wild, worried. He nods his head toward the back of the room. I follow him through the stacks.

  “I found something,” he says again.

  “What is it?”

  He reaches around me, taking a brown book from his pocket. “Someone worked really hard to keep it hidden.”

  I turn it over in my fingers. The leather is worn with a string around it. “What’s so bad about it?”

  Poncho only shakes his head. He starts to speak, but changes his mind and takes a step away down the aisle. “Poncho—” I start to ask another question, but Carter yells my name. I get that he’s worried, but now that that he’s inside Poncho’s definitely not telling me anything else.

  I make my way back through the aisle, the weight of the small book heavy in my bag.

  “You ready?” Carter asks.

  I nod. “Thank you,” I say to Poncho, right before I exit, but the room is empty.

  The sky is a dark gray when Carter drops me off at my car. My hand lingers on the door, and I look back at him, finally asking the question that’s been bothering me. “What do you think it means that the demons kept talking about how I smell?”

  “What?”

  “The demons.” I bite my lip. “They said I smelled different. That whoever that Kriegen is said I would.”

  He shrugs. “They were probably talking about your essence. You are a witch.”

  “I don’t have an essence anymore, you know that, so that doesn’t make sense.”

  Carter hugs me, and it’s not that great in the tight space of his car, but I like it. “Whatever. It’s been a long day. I’m glad you’re safe.”

  And it’s here, right now, that I realize it’s too exhausting to fight whatever I feel for him, and that somewhere through this crazy afternoon, I stopped trying to deny that. He’s too right, too comfortable for me.

  “You’re going straight home, right?” I nod. “Are you telling your family what happened?

  I push some hair behind my ear. “They aren’t home. There’s a party at Thomas’s house. His parents do it every year, and Connie forces Gran and Pop to go. We probably just missed them.” He’s still close to me and I’m not sure what to say so I kiss his cheek and bolt to my car.

  I’m glad they’re gone. I need some time to myself.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Open your eyes.

  And I do, screaming, in my bed. I guess I fell asleep, reading the little book Poncho had given me. Emmaline’s journal, hidden all these years.

  It’s only nine o’clock right now. This is the day that will never end. I sit up and toss off the sheets, pulling my knees to my chest. Why do I keep dreaming this? What am I missing? And one who hides the truth from you. It feels like everyone’s lying about something, hiding something from me. Even my own grandma.

  I pull the little brown journal out from under my pillow. So far, in the pages I’ve read tonight, Emmaline has only mentioned her siblings and parents by name. But it feels like her—which is weird since I don’t even know her. I flip to the page I stopped reading before I fell asleep.

  4 July 1841

  Nary a soul can fathom how it feels to be different. To have this ache in the deepest recesses of your soul for a life that surpasses what you have been bequeathed. Nor do they fancy to seek it. Tis as if every step I choose to take leads me farther and farther away from myself. I fear I shall wake in the woods, lost and alone. I am o’er wrought and gasted with the inherent conviction that none will take note of my absence. It is deserving of my family, as they have not considered or taken note of me in nineteen years. I am anxious to be free of them and mad with possibilities.

  Beside me, my phone chirps. When I look it’s a text from Carter. Are you still awake?

  A smile spreads across my face. Am now.

  Then he calls. I answer on the first ring. “Can’t stop thinking about me, huh?”

  I roll my eyes. “You caught me. You’re all I think about.”

  “I knew it,” he says with a laugh. He pauses, takes in a breath. “That’s why I’m on the porch.”

  “You’re what?”

  “I wanted to make sure you were okay. It didn’t feel right leaving you alone.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “You’re ‘okay’ a lot, so forgive me for not believing that.”

  I release a breathy laugh into the receiver. He’s quiet on the other end of the phone. All I can hear is his breathing. The sound is weirdly calming, even though it makes me feel things I try not to. He stayed here. Why would he do that? Is it only because I’m his partner?

  “You should know the answer to that, Pen.”

  I hadn’t mean to say that aloud, but the answer is the best one I could’ve imagined. We’re both quiet for a second, then I’m out of the bed and halfway down the stairs.

  I swing the front door open and he looks a little surprised to see me standing there, but he smiles. I open the door wider.

  “Want some tea?” I ask.

  Carter sits on the edge of my bed and the sound of our laughter mingling is the most natural thing in the world. It’s eleven, and no one else is home yet. He’s a good distraction from everything else. We’ve spent two hours talking about fighting, music, school, Enforcer training, and everything feels like it’s one world instead of the fractured version that’s existed these past few weeks.

  “In your exit interview for the exams, what exactly did you say?” I ask.

  Carter sighs and stretches across the length of the bed. “Well, it was pretty standard at first. Dad made it very clear what I was supposed to say to ensure a good match, so I pretty much followed his script of duty and responsibility and honor.”

  “That’s what I did too,” I say. It’s the answer the council wants to hear from all the Enforcers: that we want it so we carry on tradition, serve, and protect. It’s the entirety of what Enforcers stand for.

  “Well, that’s what I did at first,” he says, his eyes dancing.

  “At first?”

  He taps his fingers along his leg. “I hate that stuff, you know? It’s silly. You can’t Pair someone up just because they answer questions the same way you do—like that’s somehow going to save your life. So I may have deviated and said I wanted someone who wasn’t afraid to lose everything, because that’s the only way you fight to win—when it’s all at stake. I wanted someone who would fight.”

  I sit up straight. It feels like I’ve swallowed cotton balls, or I’m floating in the sky and I can’t feel the ground. He’s making this up. That’s almost the same answer I had.

  We’re both silent for a second, but I feel like I’m wasting our moment. “Why do you smell like nutmeg?”

  “You been sniffing me, Grey?” he asks.

  My cheeks flush, I’m almost sure of it. Say something witty. “Most boys don’t smell like nutmeg.” Or not so much witty.

  There’s a little blush to his cheeks; it’s adorable that he’s embarrassed.

  “I like to bake,” he says.

  “What?” I smile. “How does a boy like you get into baking?”

  Carter laughs. I like the sound of it. Of him here in my room with me, even though Gran would flay me if she ever found out. “I had this nanny when I was kid—Olga—I was probably five or six when she was around. One day I asked her what my mom used to like to do. Now, she’d never met Mom, but she looked at me with a smile and said, ‘She used to bake.’ Then she
taught me, but I really only know how to make cookies.”

  The whole time he’s talking all I can think is that I have it bad. That’s why everything hurt so much, why I read so much into every little thing. That’s why I kept pushing away—I didn’t want to feel this. I’ve fought so hard to be where I am, to prove myself as an Enforcer, and I don’t want to love, because love means losing. Can I love Carter and not lose him? Can I love him and not make my whole existence depend on him? Can I still get what I want, my magic, and be myself? I don’t know, but it was easier to try to keep him away than to admit this.

  But I don’t want him away. I want him here. Today has taught me that. I need him, as much as I don’t want to need him. How did that happen? How did he become so important to me in such a short period of time? I need this baking, demon-tracking, rebel Triad son who checks in on me.

  And that’s terrifying.

  Carter is staring at me. “Have I lost man points or something?”

  I shake my head, tears brimming in my eyes. “No.”

  He leans over and brushes my hair out of my eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “My mom and my grandma used to bake cakes together,” is all I can manage. I can’t finish the rest. The part about that being my request for my partner, the part about him being so perfect it hurts, the part about me being in love with him. Because I definitely am.

  Carter pulls me down to him and I lean into his chest again; his hand strokes my hair. Maybe we really were meant to be together. Destiny, for real, and not just because I don’t have another explanation.

  “You should sleep,” he says, his voice a whisper.

  “I don’t want that. I don’t think I could sleep anyway.”

  He’s quiet for a second. “Close your eyes.”

  Open your eyes.

  What does that mean? My eyes are open. I hate that demon. I hope Poncho finds some more information.

  “What did you find on Vassago?” I ask. I try pull away from him, but he doesn’t let me go. “What?” I ask.

  “Tomorrow, Pen. Just close your eyes. It’s been a long day. Don’t be so stubborn.”

  I laugh. “Okay. Okay.” I close my eyes and take a breath. Next to me, I feel him conjuring up his magic as it flows into me. I have to exhale so I can relax into his chest. It’s only a few seconds, but I already feel calmer. His fingers lace with mine.

  Carter tells me to look now. Maybe he has something important to tell me—so I open them. And when I do, I gasp and sit up in the bed. Carter rises beside me.

  All across my room there are stars. They sparkle and dance on the walls, competing with the ones outside. They are so bright the room is shining, shimmering. It’s like my father used to do for me when I was a kid to make me sleep. I can’t believe he remembered. I jump off the bed and run to the wall, the same way I used to as a kid, and touch one of the stars. It’s warm in my hand, precious and small like a snowflake.

  Carter stands next to me when I turn around, looking down at me, a nervous smile on his face.

  “I hope this is—”

  “It’s amazing,” I say.

  I release the star. It moves around the room, floating and twinkling with the others. Carter shakes his head. “You are.”

  “No. I was so annoying to you. I—”

  He takes my chin in his hand. “You can trust me, Pen. I wouldn’t hurt you. Never again. Can we start over?”

  I nod slowly and swallow down all the emotions. It’s so much—him here, the stars, today, the secrets. I think after all of it, I need to believe him. I need someone. I need him.

  I step away from Carter and hold out my hand. “Gorgeous night. I’m Penelope Grey. You can call me Pen.”

  He smiles. It’s as bright as the stars and my heart is dancing in my chest trying to mimic them. He takes my hand. “Lovely to meet you. I’m William Carter Prescott. You can call me Carter.”

  “Prescott,” I start. “Any relation to the scary-looking man in the Triad?”

  “That’s my father, but don’t worry—I’m not as scary as him.”

  “I beg to differ,” I say.

  Carter draws me to him. His hand brushes across my cheek and the warmth of his touch makes me shiver. He steps toward me until our bodies are pressed together. Everything inside me is frozen, afraid to move or beat or breathe. Then, his lips touch mine. It’s hesitant, innocent. His lips against mine, the heat flowing between us. This kiss is too precious, perfect for the moment. It’s gentle and soft.

  “Penelope,” he says in a breath against my lips.

  That’s all it takes, my name from his lips in that tone, and then our bodies crash into each other. I lean against the wall, afraid I’ll fall over without its support. My hand trails up his shirt, and his lips and mine touch again. This is passion and fire and better than I ever imagined it could be. He says my name again and I drag him closer to me. His mouth trails away from mine. He presses a kiss against my neck, my cheek, my ear, my lips again. He grabs my hand and leads me to the bed.

  I laugh. “That’s a little fast, don’t you think?”

  Carter shakes his head. “You need to sleep. I need to go.”

  I follow him across the bed and he wraps me up under the covers. “You’re kidding. Sleep is never happening now. Not after that.”

  He doesn’t look convinced so I jerk him down beside me and kiss him some more.

  “You’re really leaving?” I ask.

  “I should,” he says, but there’s no conviction in his voice. His lips are too close to my face, so I lean up and kiss him again.

  “I knew you were trouble, Penelope Grey.”

  “Stay,” I say. “Just for a while.”

  Carter doesn’t answer, but kisses me again. I rest my head against his shoulder and listen to him breathe. I watch the stars dance in my room until I can’t keep my eyes open.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I can’t stop smiling. I thought for sure I was dreaming some sort of fantasy that would dissolve when I woke up, but it didn’t. It is real. The smiley-face text from Carter knows it. My heart knows it. My lips know it, too; I need some lip balm.

  I run into Connie in the bathroom between our rooms.

  “How was the party?” I ask. I think about the kiss with Carter. That party was the only reason any of that got to happen. Gran would’ve never let him in my room with the door closed, so all of it worked out to my advantage. Finally. I smile again just thinking about last night.

  Connie raises an eyebrow. “Why are you so happy?”

  “I’m always happy.” I try to wipe away the smile but fail.

  “Not before coffee,” she says. Stupid addiction. She leans in closer to me and studies my face. Her eyes drift to the Chapstick in my hand. “Spill! Right now!”

  I don’t tell her about our demon-tracking or about Emmaline’s journal, but I tell her about Carter. About the woods and how he saved me. About the kissing all night. She’s probably more excited than I am.

  Or at least the same amount.

  “Not to ruin the moment, but Ric was there last night,” she says. “He asked about you.”

  Ric. The only person who should know what’s going on, and doesn’t. If he asked about me, then perhaps I can win him back. I know just the way.

  I stand on Ric’s porch and ring the doorbell until he answers. He shuffles to the door in his pajamas, his blond hair pointed all over the place. He doesn’t look happy to see me. Not as happy as I am to see him.

  I hold out my hands. Bagels, two lattes, some pastries, and a fresh bacon, egg, and sausage wrap from the place up the road. “I brought your favorites.”

  “It’s seven in the morning,” he says, crossing his arms.

  “I know. I am really impatient.” I reach closer toward him with the bag. He doesn’t bite. “I’m here on behalf of grand gestures and apologies.”

  Ric leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his T-shirt. “It’s been four days.”

  “Four long days,”
I say. He doesn’t move. “I’m so sorry, Ric.”

  “For what?”

  He’s not going to let me have this one. I sigh. “For not being honest with you. But I’m here now and I’m going to tell you everything I can.”

  “Okay, so tell me.”

  “You’ll want this first,” I say, nodding toward the coffee.

  He takes the latte from my hands and steps aside so I can come in. When I cross the doorway, I throw my arms around his neck. He seems surprised, but in a second he’s hugging me back.

  “You better have told them extra sriracha,” he says.

  “I did,” I say.

  “Good,” Ric responds. In our language, that means my apology is on its way to being accepted.

  When I’m done, Ric stares at me as if I have three heads. I told him everything I could explain about my magic and Carter and me. He ate his breakfast while I talked and he inhaled his coffee He didn’t interrupt me while I spoke, which was pretty much a sign that he thought the whole thing was insane. It is. I stop the story with yesterday in the woods, and leave out the piece about Emmaline and her journal. Not because it’s a secret, but because I’m not ready to share her and I’m still missing something.

  “I know it’s a lot to process,” I say.

  Ric moves from the couch and walks to the fireplace across the living room. The whole house is silent and I have no idea what he’s going to say next. With his back to me he says, “You don’t have magic? Not in all these years?”

  I shake my head, and he leans against the mantel, eyes locked on me.

  “How did you lie to me about that?”

  “It never came up. I didn’t have to do magic around you since we were in a different ST course, plus Connie was usually around and there’s the law and everything.”

  Ric shakes his head. “You could’ve told me anyway.”

  “Gran would’ve flipped, Ric. She worked hard to keep it a secret. You have to understand that aside from my family, only you and Carter know. And Carter only knows because he figured it out when he met me.”

  I hope Ric knows if things had been different, less complicated, I would’ve told him. I’d wanted to tell him. And if we’d been Paired I certainly would have. It was part of the reason I was hoping for that to happen so badly.