Glass Heart

by Amy Garvey

  I’m not sure I understand. “Why was it so bad then?”

  He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. Behind me, the fire crackles and spits. “It was like I felt a shadow behind me.”

  “Um, everyone has a shadow, Dad.” The relief in Robin’s voice is sweet-tart, as if she’s just solved the stupidest problem ever, and wow, can’t parents be dumb.

  “Not that kind of a shadow,” I tell her, and when Dad nods, my skin crawls, electric with dread.

  “Not a real shadow, baby.” He stands up and runs his hand softly over Robin’s head before pacing the length of the room and back, his hands clenched as if he wants to grab something and choke the life out of it. He turns back to face us, and I flinch at the heartsick regret on his face. “I didn’t know myself anymore. I couldn’t trust myself. Things happened . . . bad things. When I was angry at someone at work, or stressed. I didn’t have any control of it anymore. And I had no idea what I might do to you girls or your mother.”

  Robin snuggles a little closer to Mom, a tear sliding down one cheek, bright as a diamond.

  “I stopped, of course. And it wasn’t . . . pretty,” he says, sitting down again. “But I can’t use my power ever again. And I can’t be around people who do use it, not for very long.”

  There’s nothing left to say—he looks so tired, I know that he’s told it all. Except one thing, I guess, and he says that now.

  “I’m so sorry. Every day I’m sorry, every day I miss you. And I guess every day since the day I left, your mom and I have been screwing this up.”

  If he starts to cry, I’ll be next, and I grit my teeth. If I cry now, I might never stop. The whole story is sad and stupid and careless and human and horrible. Like life can be, I guess.

  But I don’t know what any of it means when it comes to my story, my life. My power is nestled safe inside me, a vague, comfortable hum, but for the first time I’m really afraid of it.

  “I know now that we should have told you everything.” My mom’s voice is low, rough. “When you were old enough for all of it, I mean. And . . . we didn’t. I didn’t. I was scared, too. But I think Robin was right.” She squeezes Robin’s shoulders. “Taking the problem right to the source is usually the smart thing.”

  For a second, the silence is too thick, too heavy, even with the fire snapping at the edges of it. And I think, This is my family, the only one any of us have. And maybe it doesn’t have to be a tragedy.

  So I smile at my dad, big and slow. “Maybe you can explain to her why summoning a living person is not ever the thing to do.”

  I’m lucky I don’t singe my hair when Robin knocks me over with a sofa cushion, but I can hear my parents laughing. I like the sound of it.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “THIS IS SUCH A BAD IDEA,” GABRIEL WHISPERS as we sit down in the Book Barn the following night. It’s packed, wooden folding chairs crammed into short rows around the stage, and the lights are already down. Jess and Cal are on the other side of Gabriel, holding hands and whispering something I’m pretty sure I should be glad I can’t hear. I’m on the end, and there’s barely two feet between me and the wall.

  “We don’t have another plan.” I shrug, even though my heart is pounding. Gabriel can probably feel it even without his psychic senses. Inviting Bay and Fiona here is crazy. But when my mom said “taking the problem right to the source,” I knew it was the only choice left. We certainly haven’t been able to find out anything about Adam’s disappearance on our own.

  And I keep hearing Gabriel’s voice in my head: “Wren, there was blood.”

  I shudder, and Gabriel wraps his arm around my shoulders. Everyone, Darcia included, is surprised I’m here tonight, with my dad still in town—and sleeping on our couch, which is a whole other level of awkward—but no way was I missing Dar’s big night.

  “I’m going to stay for a couple days,” he’d said last night when I was going up to bed. He was standing at the foot of the stairs in jeans and a sweater and sock feet, and it was hard to remember he didn’t belong here anymore, that he had ever left. “Just to give us a chance to get to know each other. But a break here and there is probably a good idea, too.”

  He’s not wrong. I mean, I’m trying to be understanding, and I’m trying to take him being part of my life in any way as better than nothing at all, but instant family togetherness is a lot of pressure. Especially when we’re all waiting for Robin’s powers to misfire every other minute.

  Gabriel wasn’t surprised that I still wanted to come tonight, but I figured he wouldn’t be. He knows how I feel about finding Adam, not to mention Darcia’s big debut. And I’m counting on him to use his special Spidey sense to get into Bay’s head.

  Which means I won’t have to use my power at all. For the time being anyway, I’m pretty content to park that part of me in the long-term lot.

  “They might not even show up,” I say finally, glancing around the room. It’s an addition to the original barn, with a coffee counter along one side and the stage area set up catty-corner to it. Usually the rest of the room is full of tables and a couple of thrift-store armchairs, but for events like this, rows of folding chairs are set up. I think it’s supposed to give the showcases a concert atmosphere, but instead it feels a little like the high school auditorium.

  It is packed, though. Four people are playing, and Dar is the second on the bill. She’s so nervous, she’s been jittering all day, and Thierry is here somewhere, which I bet is making it worse. I haven’t seen her this moony over a boy in, like, ever.

  “What exactly did you say to Bay?” Gabriel whispers. His arm is draped over the back of my chair, and the chill of the night air on it is quickly fading in the overcrowded room. “I mean, you blew him off for days.”

  “I said he was right.” I make a hair-ball noise. “I generally groveled and said I was being stupid about what happened, and hey, why don’t you meet me at this thing tonight?”

  “And you think he’s going to buy that?” He sounds dubious, but the lights are going down and the first performer is walking up to the stool and mike, so I just shrug and take one last look around.

  I don’t want to see Bay or Fiona. I don’t really want them on the same planet as me, much less in the same room. But I can’t forget that a kid I know might be out there somewhere, hurt or possibly dead, because he got tangled up with them.

  I can’t believe I let myself get tangled up with them, either, but a little guilt and a lot of shame is nothing compared to being dead.

  “Oh boy,” I hear Jess say when the guy at the mike starts. He’s oozing emo all over the place, dyed white hair dripping into his eyes, and I can practically feel Cal falling asleep. Gabriel is rubbing his eyes, but I’d bet a week’s paycheck it’s just general irritation instead of a headache.

  “They’re only playing three songs each, right?” Gabriel mutters at the end of the second song, just as fingers snake over my knee and squeeze. I whirl to find Bay crouched beside my chair, and Fiona pressed against the wall behind him. She looks more malevolent than usual, too. Sort of like a crazy fairy who’s thinking about a homicidal rampage, actually. In the low light, her eyes are glittering.

  I hold a finger to my lips, even though there’s nothing I want to hear less than this guy’s last song, but I smile when I do it. My “so glad to see you” face is not something I pull out very often, and I elbow Gabriel at the same time.

  Bay sketches a salute and straightens up to stand beside Fiona, draping himself over her the way his coat hangs on him. And then proceeds to stare just past me at Gabriel.

  So totally not cool. I could swear the temperature in the room just dropped twenty degrees, and beside me Gabriel is tense, too perfectly still to be relaxed. As the song winds to an end, all I can do is cling to his hand and hope he’s poking around in Bay’s head. And finding something we can use in what I assume is the rest of the slimy garbage in there.

  The polite applause at the end of the set is a relief, for me if
not for Emo Boy. I turn around to say something to Bay in the pause before Darcia comes out, but he and Fiona are gone. I glance back at Gabriel, and he’s staring at the stage like he’s hypnotized.

  Where the hell did they go, and how did I not hear them walking away? I twist completely around to look at the back of the room, and the big archway into the bookstore, but they’re nowhere.

  And Gabriel is . . . in a totally other zone. I snap my fingers and hiss his name, and he turns his head slowly toward me. Too slowly.

  “Wren?”

  “Did you get anything?” I whisper, leaning close. “Are you okay? Where did they go?”

  He blinks, and his head swivels back to face the stage. It’s so close to the careful, lifeless way that Danny moved, the hair on the back of my neck is standing up. “Darcia,” he says, and smiles. Sort of.

  And I am now officially freaked out.

  I want to grab his hand and pull him out of the room, into the frozen night. I want to scream, and I want to find Bay, since I know he did this, whatever it is. And then later, when I have a minute, I want to pull my hair out strand by strand for thinking it was in any way a good idea to invite someone with powers like Bay’s to come here, when I should have guessed he’d be getting his payback on.

  And my best friend, Darcia? The one who’s about to play in public for the first time? I’d kind of like to see her sing, and to stand up on my chair afterward and applaud till my hands bleed, because that’s why I’m here.

  She walks up to the stool, and even from here I can see her trembling. But she sits down, guitar strap over her shoulder, and pulls it onto her lap. The lighting isn’t exactly professional, but it’s soft and focused on her, and her hair makes a dark halo around her face.

  She looks beautiful, and for a second nothing else matters.

  She sings an older Ani DiFranco song first, and her fingers are so sure on the strings, I want to jump up and down and throw flowers. But as I glance across Gabriel for Jess’s reaction, Gabriel’s eyes stop me. Behind the flat gray is a shadow that flickers and moves as I watch, and Gabriel gasps.

  Everyone’s clapping as the song ends, and for a minute I freeze. It’s an echo of the noise in my head, shrieking to get Gabriel out of here, desperate not to make a scene, and cheering for Darcia all at once. I grab Gabriel’s hand, and his fingers tighten around mine painfully, knuckles white.

  “This is the one I love,” Jess leans in to whisper, beaming, as Dar starts the next song. She frowns when she sees Gabriel’s face and mouths, What’s wrong? at me. I wish I knew.

  Instead of answering, I mouth back, Tell her I’m sorry, and stand in a crouch, tugging Gabriel after me. He’s nearly boneless, all of his strength poured into the death grip he has on my hand, and I really, really wish I hadn’t thought of it as a death grip. Cal leans around Jess, confused, but she just shakes her head and points at the stage. Dar’s song is already winding down.

  I nearly trip over a bag someone left in the aisle, and twice Gabriel glances off the wall like a giant boy-sized bag of potatoes, but I manage to get him through the archway and into the bookstore. The girl at the counter looks up in alarm, and I paste on a completely fake smile.

  “Asthma,” I say, and wow, that’s dumb, because he should be gasping for breath, not propped against the wall like a zombie. She just nods and goes back to her book, and for one wild second I feel like shouting, “Hey, that girl in there is going to be on the radio in a couple years, so pay attention!”

  Tonight needs the biggest do-over ever.

  I sling Gabriel’s arm over my shoulder and steer him outside. It’s frigid, the cold a vicious slap as soon as it hits, and I realize I’d been hoping it would shock the vague lifelessness out of Gabriel. Instead, he’s doubling over, eyes slipping closed, and before I know it, he’s huddled on the pavement, barely conscious.

  It only takes me a second to decide. I pull out my cell phone and call the house, shivering as the phone rings. My mom answers, and I don’t say anything but “I need Dad.”

  The last thing I expected to see tonight was my father with Gabriel slung over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry as he climbed the stairs to the apartment. I mean, I’d envisioned Gabriel meeting my dad, probably tomorrow, totally chill, nothing big and formal and official. Instead, I had my dad laying Gabriel out on his bed, his face pinched in dread.

  One day, I hope, I’m going to get something simple right the first time.

  For now, I’m sitting on the edge of Gabriel’s bed, holding his hand, and it feels like the only thing I do anymore. His skin looks like wet paper, a sheen of sweat on his pale forehead. His hair is plastered to his head, and he’s shaking, eyes moving under his lids in staccato bursts. Olivia’s still at the bar, but as soon as I work up the courage, I know I have to call her.

  “I don’t know, Wren. This could be a nine-one-one moment,” my dad says. He’s standing at the end of the bed, watching every move Gabriel makes, and I don’t blame him for suggesting it. Gabriel looks stuck somewhere between a coma and a seizure, and the worst part is that it clearly hurts. Like, a lot.

  “But what . . .” I get myself together, blinking back tears. “But what are they going to do if they can’t find anything wrong? Bay did this, Dad, I know it.”

  “If this is a spell . . .” The words trail off into silence, broken only by the creak of bedsprings as Gabriel jerks in pain. “This is serious stuff, honey.”

  I finally look back at him, and I can see the protective dad warring with the furious father who wants to know exactly what his kid has gotten herself into. I don’t have time for that, even as I fleetingly imagine what he’s going to tell my mom.

  Right now, I’m not sure how much time Gabriel has left.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “WE HAVE TO DO SOMETHING,” OLIVIA SAYS. It’s not quite nine on Saturday morning, and she’s pacing the length of the apartment wrapped in an old sweater. She hasn’t been to sleep; none of us has.

  My mom comes out of Gabriel’s bedroom without closing the door behind her. She’s been sitting with him, doing everything she can to make him comfortable, since sometime around one this morning. I don’t know what kind of spells she’s used, but he’s not as restless with pain anymore.

  I think that’s what they call “cold comfort.”

  Olivia is so wild with worry and rage, she’s practically vibrating. Every time she falls silent, I’m sure I can hear the echoing screams in her head. Gabriel is all she has.

  I don’t need anyone to remind me.

  Mom brought my books when she came, leaving Robin home asleep, and Dad’s been poring through them for hours.

  “It’s been a long time,” he keeps apologizing, “and I never had to deal with anything like this before. You’re sure you didn’t hear him say anything? You didn’t smell any herbs or notice anything strange, something he left behind?”

  All I can do is shake my head and go back to the books I’m looking through. I was too freaked to think to look around, and I know I didn’t hear him say anything. And even though I’ve seen him do magic without a word plenty of times, this is terrifying. Something like this . . . I don’t even want to know what he was thinking at Gabriel to cause this.

  “You’re going to have to find him,” Olivia announces suddenly, stopping in the middle of the room. Her arms are folded tight against her chest, and her jaw is set hard. “Find him and hold him down if you have to. But figure out what he did to my brother.” She swallows back a sob and sits down suddenly on the bare floor, a puddle of sweater with a girl inside it. “And then let me at him.”

  My father glances up at me and nods, and when I look at Mom, she’s frowning but she’s not arguing. “I can keep him comfortable while your father keeps researching. I think finding this boy is probably your only choice. But I want you to go with her, Mari. Double the magic anyway.”

  Mari nods right before she stifles a yawn. She looks about as powerful as a kitten right now.

 
I lay the thick, dusty book I’ve been paging through on the sofa and stand up. Everything feels stiff and sore, and my head is aching with exhaustion and worry and probably hunger at this point. My Docs have been kicked under the coffee table, and as I lean down to grab them, Dad touches my back.

  It’s just a warm weight, no stroking or patting, but for the space of a minute I remember with a rush that overwhelms me. My daddy doing just that as I turned over to go to sleep, my night-light a steady gold glow on the wall, and his hand just anchoring me there in bed, a connection, a presence. I’m here, that hand said, it’s okay to close your eyes.

  When I straighten up, I don’t try to hide the tears slipping down my cheeks, hot and fast.

  Mom crosses the room and pulls me close, her hand in my hair, and her voice, gentle and steady, in my ear. “We’re going to fix this, baby. I promise you.”

  I manage to nod and finally stand back. My nose is dripping, and my hands are shaking, but I need to do one thing before I leave.

  Gabriel is flat on his back beneath a faded West Point blanket. I took his shoes off not long after Dad and I brought him home, and his socked feet have fallen toward each other like a little kid’s. I bite the inside of my cheek, hard, so I won’t cry again, and lean over him, one hand on his chest. He’s breathing a little easier, and he’s cooler now, at least.

  He hasn’t opened his eyes in hours.

  I lean my forehead against his. “I don’t know what Bay did, but I’m going to undo it. I will. Just . . . just hold on for me, okay?”

  He doesn’t stir.

  Aunt Mari gives me a ride to Summerhill.

  It isn’t until we’re on campus, parked outside the dorms, that I realize I have no idea where Bay’s room is. And it’s not like there’s a handy directory.