“It’s awful, hurting something without meaning to.” Ander reaches out and lays one big hand on Naomi’s shoulder. The gesture is gentle, but I feel it like a slap. How can he comfort her over some little bird that died years ago, when he hasn’t comforted me about my own death?
“Listen,” I say, a little too loudly. “I’m getting tired. It’s been a long night, and the sun is up out there, so I’d really like to go to sleep.”
“Oh, of course.” If Naomi hears the tension in my voice, she doesn’t show it.
Ander, however, can tell I’m upset. He gives me a questioning look, but I look away.
“I just want to show you one more thing, then,” Naomi says.
Personally I think princess charming has shown us enough, but what choice do I have? “What is it?”
She walks to the tall lump on the other side of the room and tugs off the white sheet.
I was right in guessing it’s a mirror, long and oval with a dark wood frame and a matching stand. I press my lips together to keep the fangs from showing. Is this some kind of a joke? “Thank you,” I say carefully. “But I can’t see myself in mirrors any more.”
“Oh! No, that’s not what I mean.” At least Naomi has the good grace to blush. Unfortunately, the red flush that creeps up her neck only makes my fangs itch more. “It’s enchanted.”
“Enchanted?” That snaps me out of it. I eye the mirror doubtfully. It looks ordinary enough—pretty, but ordinary, the antique glass tarnished and clouded with dust.
Naomi uses the sleeve of her shirt to swipe surface clean. “Here,” she says quickly, “I’ll show you.”
She raises her left hand, pressing the palm flat against the glass. “Show me Emmie.”
Instantly something moves under the glass, like water under ice. It swirls and eddies for a second, then forms into an image of Emmie, standing on what must be the rocky beach behind the house. The wind has teased her hair into a frenzy and she has wrapped her fake-fur jacket around her against the cold, but she looks happy, relaxed, gazing out over the water. She shuts her eyes and tips her head up to the sky, letting the sun kiss her face.
Instinctively I pull back. The sun looks so real!
“Here.” Naomi steps aside and the image of Emmie swirls and drains away. “You try. Left hand—that’s your receptive side.”
I step in front of the mirror and reach out my hand, pressing my palm carefully against the glass. It feels cold and somehow charged, like a subtle electric current is flowing through it. Ander watches warily, but he doesn’t try to stop me. The shadows under the glass continue to swirl. “Now what?” I whisper.
“Now command the mirror to show you someone,” she says.
Command the mirror! A giddy feeling bubbles in my chest, the first real excitement I’ve felt in days. I fee like I’m in a fairy tale! “How far away does it show? Can we see Minnesota?”
Naomi shakes her head. “Not that far, I’m afraid.”
I deflate a little. I had hoped to be able to check on my mom and Zoe.
Well, maybe it’s better I can’t. I’m afraid to even think about my mom lately, it makes me miss her so much. I have to try to keep her out of my mind completely or I’ll want to go running home to her, and that’s something I just can’t do. Being able to see her in the mirror might only make things harder.
I take a deep breath. “Show me Luke.”
The shadows start to boil. They shift like clouds before a storm, then dissolve into an image of Luke. He is sitting at a table, his head cocked slightly to one side, an intent expression on his face.
I smile in spite of myself. “He’s in the kitchen,” I say, “down at the bottom of the stairs. He’s listening for us.”
“Damn stalking vamp,” Ander mutters, but seeing Luke stalking me makes me feel strangely better, like some things actually don’t change. Although he does look a little lost, sitting there alone.
“So,” Ander takes a step towards the mirror. “You can just check up on people whenever?” I can tell he likes this idea—being able to keep tabs on Luke, being able to protect the rest of us from a distance.
“Now who’s the stalker?” I say.
“The mirror only works for witches,” Naomi says. “It listened to Cicely because she’s a witch by blood, but I’m afraid it won’t work for you. I just thought Cicely might want to use it today, if she needs to know where you are without risking the sun.”
“Thanks for letting me use it.” I know I should be grateful—after all, the mirror is incredibly cool, and it’s the only way I’m ever going to see the sunlight again. But seeing the light through the glass, exciting though it is, isn’t the same as feeling its warmth on my skin, and looking at the now-blank mirror makes me long for my own reflection.
Naomi gives me a kind smile. “You’re very welcome. Now we should let you get some rest.”
Rest does sound good. The little twin bed under the eaves is calling my name. But I don’t love the thought of Ander following Naomi down the stairs while I stay up here like a madwoman in the attic. I give him a longing look.
Fortunately, he catches on. “Listen, Naomi, why don’t you head down. I have to talk through a couple of things with Cicely before I catch some sleep myself.”
Naomi nods. “Sure. I’m in the kitchen if you need me.” She heads down the narrow stairs, glancing back at him once before disappearing out of sight.
Ander waits until we hear the door at the bottom of the stairs close before he turns to me. He frowns. “What’s up?”
What’s up? I almost laugh. Where to begin? But then, he knows as well as I do all that’s happened in the last few days.
“Nothing,” I lie. “I just wanted to check in. You and I haven’t really talked at all since…” I falter. “Since everything, and I just wanted to… you know… talk.”
Ander reaches up to scrub the back of his neck, his big palm covering the star-shaped mark he got when he was bitten by the werewolf. His gaze skates away from mine. “What do you want to talk about?”
Us! I want to scream. What else is there? But Ander looks so uncomfortable, I’m losing my nerve. All I’ve wanted for ages is to be alone with him, but not if he’s going to tell me whatever is between us isn’t going to work.
Ander takes a deep breath. “Listen, Cicely, I just want you to know I’m trying. It’s just… I’m sorta dealing with a lot right now…”—he laughs self-consciously—“I mean not like you’re not, but this is all new to me, too, and I’m just not sure how to handle it. You know, it’s complicated.”
My hopes drop. What’s to handle? I want to say. This is us—you and me—finally getting a chance. I want to tell him we have to make it work, because if we don’t, then everything has been for nothing, because I’ve lost so much and he’s all I really have left. But I remember the way he hesitated when Naomi asked if she should invite me in. I feel like our chance is dissolving like an image in the mirror. Instinctively, I reach for his hand.
To his credit, Ander doesn’t pull away although I see his shoulders go tense. His hand feels warm against mine, but his eyes are wary. His voice is almost a whisper. “What do you want from me, Cissa?”
“I just want you to kiss me goodnight.”
Want isn’t a strong enough word. I need him to kiss me, to do something—anything—to show me I’m not about to lose him, too.
But I’m clearly asking too much. Ander’s expression is almost pained. I know that look from a million other hard conversations. It’s the look of a wolf caught in a trap, a wolf who wants to run.
He doesn’t run. I can tell it takes an effort, but he keeps hold of my hand. Cautiously, he pulls me close to him and presses one gentle kiss against my forehead. The brush of his stubble is rough, but his lips are soft and hot against my cold skin. “I really am trying,” he murmurs against my hair. “Just give me time.”
I nod. “Sure.” I can hear the longing in Ander’s voice, but is it for me as I am, or for someone I can never be agai
n?
“I really have to go.” He pulls away and turns for the stairs. “Sweet dreams, Cissa.”
“Sweet dreams,” I echo numbly. Ander’s heavy steps sound in the hollow stairwell. They hesitate for a second at the bottom, and I wish he would come back up. Then I hear the door shut behind him, and I’m alone.
My fingers fly to the spot where his lips brushed my forehead. It’s still warm from his touch. Not a real kiss, maybe—not the kind of kiss I’ve been dreaming we would share—but a kiss. A start. Even if he had to dare himself to do it. Even if I froze like a scared animal at his touch.
I sigh. Ander said he was trying, and so am I. I should give us both credit for that. It has only been a few days, after all. I’ve waited four years to get together with Ander. What’s a little while longer?
But dying has made me impatient. What was it Luke said to me at the dance? Seize the night? I see the wisdom of that, now that so many things have slipped through my fingers. I want to seize what I can. Ander said to give him time, but time may be the one thing we don’t have. He said he was trying, and I believe him, but I can’t help wishing we didn’t have to try, that there was no barrier between us, no mirror glass between me and the sun. That falling in love could feel as natural as being friends.
But what’s natural about me now? I think. I’m unnatural. Supernatural.
I flop down on the little twin bed, making the ancient springs creak. Seize the night… I can’t help wondering, would it all come more naturally with Luke? With someone closer to my own kind, someone who wasn’t supposed to be my natural enemy? Probably not. Luke has his own issues, I remind myself, left over from a long lifetime of believing undead vampires like me are only good as servants. It would never be easy.
Of course, Luke’s attitude seems to be changing quickly, at least where I am concerned. I remember his arm around me in the dark back of the van. “You still have a body,” he said, and for a moment it made me feel better.
But Luke isn’t the one I love. I curl up on top of the blankets and try to press him out of my mind. Ander told me to have sweet dreams, and I will—dreams of Ander and I together. I close my eyes.
Only as I drift into sleep do I remember: the dead can’t dream.
Chapter 4: Ander
I have to admit, it’s a relief to close the door at the bottom of the stairs. It’s not that I don’t want to be with Cissa. I do. It’s just hard to see her like this, because I love her—and hard to fight my instincts because I hate her, too. I’m a werewolf, which pretty much makes me an expert on split-personalities, but this feels extreme even for me.
I’m a little disappointed to find Luke has made himself scarce. Picking a fight with a vamp might be just what I need to blow off steam, but the only person waiting for me in the kitchen is Naomi.
“Hey.” I smile at her. “Thanks for helping us settle in.”
“You’re welcome.” She smiles back. “I suppose you want to turn in now, too.”
“Well,” I say, “I should get sleep before we’re back on the road, and I’m guessing you have stuff you have to do.” I figure I’ll give her an out. It’s not every day a bunch of dangerous strangers shows up on your doorstep. No one would blame her if she wanted to get away from us for a while.
“I should do my animal chores, but…” Naomi studies me intently for a moment. It reminds me of how Michael used to look at me, his sharp eyes scanning me for signs of the change. But Naomi has none of Michael’s ancient vampire detachment. Instead, her gray eyes are full of compassion, and I feel my face getting hot under her gaze.
I look away. “What?”
“I want to show you something,” she says. “Will you come with me?”
Suspicion darts through my mind. Michael considered Naomi’s grandmother a friend, but he didn’t know Naomi. Technically the witches are on the Hunters’ side, and I’m not. Not any more. Naomi said her family resisted the Hunters, but how can I know for sure?
“It’s okay.” She reaches out and touches my arm—just gently, her fingers resting on my forearm as lightly as a bird on a wire—but that one touch is enough to send a rush of warmth and calm through me.
I pull away. It’s hard to make myself do it, like stepping out of a patch of sunlight on a cold day. “Are you charming me?”
“Oh!” She looks genuinely surprised. “I didn’t mean to. It’s just that you looked tense.”
I can’t imagine why. I take a deep breath. “Listen,” I say carefully. “It’s nothing personal. I mean, we really appreciate you giving us a place to crash today and all. It’s just… I’m not the most trusting guy.”
She laughs, but her eyes look wounded. “Shouldn’t I be the one who’s wary? I just asked a werewolf to take a walk with me.”
True. Which either means she trusts me, or it means she’s confident she can control me. My arm is still warm where she touched it. I have a feeling Naomi was being modest about her charming abilities.
Best to keep that talent on our side—I don’t want to offend her. And, more than that, I like her. “What do you want to show me?”
Her smile brightens. “Come on.”
I follow Naomi through the house. It’s quiet. Everyone else must have turned in. I’m pretty beat myself, but as I follow Naomi into the back yard, the cool sea breeze hits me and my senses go back on high alert. I can smell the salty tang of the ocean mixed with the sweet, sticky smell of pine pitch from the woods and the earthier smell of animals. We pass a little chicken coop, painted light blue like the house and decorated with yellow flowers around the door. A skinny cat darts across our path like a squirt of black ink. But most of the animal scents are wilder than chickens or cats. Bright eyes watch us from the fringes of the woods. Fox? Raccoon? Usually animals like that run from me, but these watch us warily, caught in Naomi’s spell.
Naomi follows my gaze. “It’s an animal witch thing.” She shrugs. “They’re drawn to me.”
“What?” I smile. “Like a Disney movie? Little chipmunks and bunnies?”
She laughs. “Something like that. But they don’t sing, and they mainly come if they need something, like they’re sick or hungry or hurting.”
From the way she looks at me, I can tell she has pegged me as one of those—an animal who’s hurting. Well, I’m not going to argue with her there, but my wounds are a lot worse than a broken wing, a lot deeper than a thorn in the paw. “And can you help them?”
She looks up at me, her gray eyes thoughtful. “I can if they let me.”
Man, a guy could get lost in those eyes. “And do they?”
She looks away. “Sometimes.” She reaches her hand up towards the woods, and a tiny bird seems to come from nowhere, darting out from the trees and landing in her palm. I hold my breath, not wanting to scare it off, but the bird doesn’t seem to notice me at all.
“Sometimes I can heal them or feed them or give them a place to be safe.” Grimm the raven comes, too, flying in from somewhere near the house and landing on Naomi’s shoulder. Feathers ruffled with jealously, he chases the other bird off. “And sometimes they’re beyond my help, and all I can do is help them let go, move on from this life.” She watches the bird sadly. “Sometimes they won’t even let me touch them.”
I let my breath out. “I can’t picture the animal that wouldn’t let you touch it,” I say, and immediately realize it sounds like I’m flirting. “I mean…”
She smiles. “Thank you.” She reaches out and lays her fingertips on my elbow and I feel the warmth of the charm spread through me. “This way.”
I follow her through a crooked gate, into a little paddock fenced with rambling stone walls and barbed wire. We’re at the very tip of the peninsula. The ground is rockier here, and the view wider. The sun is up in earnest now and the sky is clawed with pink, bright against the slate gray waves. The rocky beach curves away from us on either side, twin crescents of stones and sand. At the far end of one crescent, a circular white building stands like a single fang.
“That?” She shades her eyes to gaze at it. “Sentinel Point lighthouse. They don’t call this Brave Boat Harbor for nothing, you know. The rocks are treacherous. That lighthouse used to be the only thing that kept boats from running aground.”
“Used to be? It’s not now?”
Naomi shakes her head. “Advanced technology made a lot of the old lighthouses obsolete. The government shut them down.”
“So it’s just abandoned? Nobody uses it?”
Naomi doesn’t answer. “Come on,” she says. “In here.” There’s a tall barn perched on the end of the peninsula like a bird on a shoulder. It’s painted cheerful blue like the house, but the shingles are molting and the weathervane is bent so “east” is somewhere in the sky. Inside there’s the sound of hooves stomping impatiently. A horse trumpets a neigh.
Naomi laughs. “I’m late.” She unlatches the barn door and struggles it open. Inside it’s dim and cool and sweet with the scent of hay and leather. Two horses strain their long necks over the half-doors of their stalls, reaching for Naomi in welcome.
But the minute they see me, they pull back, eyes and nostrils wide. The white one with the spots snorts disapprovingly.
“Now, ladies.” Naomi reaches up and pulls the brown one’s face down to her level, stroking the velvet of her nose. “It’s only Ander. He’s a friend.” She murmurs something more, too low and quick for even my sensitive ears to catch the words—if there are words at all.
The horse calms, relaxing into Naomi’s touch. The other horse reaches over to nudge her back, soft lips frisking her pockets for treats.
Crossfire (Book Two of the Darkride Chronicles) Page 5
