by Ching, G. P.
"You look stunning. Would you like to see?" the boy said, ignoring her question.
A mirror materialized at the center of the room, its gilded frame an intricately carved masterpiece. When she stepped over to it, her feet clicked against the floor. She lifted the full ruby skirt to find four-inch heels had replaced her slippers. Glancing into the mirror, she realized that wasn't all that had changed. Her hair was swept up high on her head with cascading curls brushing her cheeks and neck. Her lips were painted as red as her dress and her makeup made her look older than she was. The medicine woman's red stone was mounted on an elegant gold chain around her neck.
"What is this about?" Malini asked, turning to see that the top of the gown was a corset, tied tightly in the back.
"This is a ball, and we are here to dance." He clapped his hands and a man entered the room and sat at a grand piano that she hadn't noticed when she'd entered the room. The boy met her eyes and bent at the waist, extending his hand toward her.
"I can't dance," she said.
"Oh, I think you know this step," he whispered.
Tentatively she took what he offered. His fingers slipped in, as cold as death against her palm. The pianist began a heavy waltz and the boy pulled her into his chest. He led her across the floor, step-step-spin, step-step-spin, and she did know the steps as if it was a dance she'd danced every day of her life.
"I have a gift for you Malini. It is His will that you have a piece of what I am. It is a powerful gift and I do not give it lightly."
"Who are you?"
"You know who I am Healer. I am the thing you hate the most. I am the thing you mistake as your enemy when truly I am the world's most important blessing."
Malini felt dizzy, almost nauseous. The turning, the cold press of his skin, the music that was eerily strange. She stopped and he followed her lead although he did not release her right hand. The pianist played passionately, his fingers flying across the keys. But she realized she was seeing his fingers through his back. His body was opaque, dressed in ghostly clothing that reminded her of something from the seventeenth century.
"He's not alive." Malini's throat constricted and the words came out as breathy whispers.
"No," the boy said.
His icy grip tightened around her fingers. "Oww," she said. "My fingers are going numb. Do you mind?"
"An unfortunate side effect of my gift I'm afraid," he said.
A moment of clarity allowed her to see the room for what it was, not a ballroom but a grand funeral parlor. The flower arrangements in every nook, the melancholy dirge of the piano, the cold marble: this was a house of the dead.
The coldness advanced to her wrist. She could no longer feel her hand. The ghostly pianist continued to play, but the cadence of his music transformed into grief in D minor.
"You are Death," she rasped.
"Yes."
"But I don't understand. Have I failed. Am I going to die?"
"I am here to give something to you, not to take something from you," he said pulling her back into his chest. He forced her to continue the dance. Step-step-turn, step-step-turn.
Her forearm was frozen, icy numbness creeping toward her elbow.
He locked eyes with her, spinning her round and round the room. Those black eyes began to burn and in them she saw all manner of death: fire, pestilence, war. They were like Fatima's eyes, windows into the history of the world, but with a much darker view. Round and round he danced with her, toward the mirror at the center of the room. And then, without asking permission, he lowered his mouth to hers.
She tried to pull away but his arms held her tight to his body, his lips pressed to hers in an icy cold kiss. The chill filled her, the numb extending from her mouth to her throat, to her cheeks, and on to her toes until her speeding heart slowed, giving itself over to the deep-freeze. But it was her arm that went completely numb. She could no longer feel it at all.
And then he was gone. She opened her eyes and felt the warmth return to her face. Her heart started to beat again. She turned a circle looking for the boy but he'd vanished, as did the pianist and the piano. The only thing that remained was the mirror.
She looked into it and for the first time noticed what death had given her. Raising her right hand, the one that had gone numb, she stepped closer to the glass. She bent and released her fingers. But they were not fingers. The flesh of her arm ended at the elbow and her hand was nothing but skeletal bones that clicked as she moved them.
The skeleton arm flexed and stretched. She couldn't help herself. She screamed and tugged at the place the bones joined her elbow as if she could rip the arm from the joint. Echoes of her terror bounced back at her from the marble walls.
Death had given her a piece of himself. She had the hand of death. Eventually she accepted that the thing was a part of her. What kind of gift was a hand of Death for a Healer?
Determined to continue, she left the ballroom and followed the path to the door on the far side of the castle. There, on a small table, was a brown glove with a note pinned to it.
"Use me," she read. "How very Alice in Wonderland." She slipped the glove onto the bone hand. Once it was on, it transformed to match her skin. She let herself out, hoping never to return.
Death's voice came to her through the closing door. "Thank you for the dance." The words held nothing but genuine gratitude. Malini thought she heard loneliness in those words. She didn't stay to find out if she was right.
As she ran down the hill, she was grateful that the gown had been replaced by her sari and slippers and surprised that the red stone remained set in its cocktail splendor. When she realized Wisnu was waiting for her at the bottom, she threw her normal arm around him. Into the furry bend of his neck, she buried her face and cried.
Chapter 21
Practice
Going to school without Malini sucked. Jacob rested his head in his hands over his uneaten lunch and tried to keep himself awake. He'd tossed and turned all night wondering if she was okay. Whatever the Healer initiation was, according to Dr. Silva it was deadly. Of course, it seemed like everything in the Soulkeeper's world was deadly. That's why they needed a school. Soulkeepers needed to learn from each other, especially if Watcher activity was on the rise.
"Earth to Jacob!" Dane waved a palm in front of his face.
"Wassup, Dane?"
"Wassup? You look like the walking dead, that's what's up. And where is Malini? What the hell is going on?"
Jacob met Dane's eyes and couldn't hold it in. He needed to talk to someone or he was going to explode. "There was a Watcher in Paris. Malini—"
Jacob stopped because Dane had jumped to his feet and was holding his fork like a weapon.
"Dane, sit down. She's okay…for now."
"I want to know what happened," Dane said, returning to his seat.
Jacob ran a hand down his face. Why did he start this? It wasn't the time or place to be sharing the details.
"She's fine, okay. And it's gone for now. But, my God, Dane…" Jacob paused gauging Dane's reaction. "Are you in love with my girlfriend?"
"No!"
"Then why are you acting like you're about to jump on a white steed and ride to her rescue?"
Dane's hands clenched into fists on either side of his orange tray. "You don't get it, do you? I would act the same way if it were you."
Jacob shook his head. "Yeah, right."
Dane leaned forward, and whispered across the table, "How do you feel about Dr. Silva and Gideon, Jacob? How do YOU feel about the people who saved you from THEM, those…things?" He straightened in his seat but didn't break eye contact.
When he did think about it, he understood where Dane was coming from. There wasn't anything Jacob wouldn't do for the people who had saved him from Nod. He never thought about it before, but he had done the same for Dane. He was the one who saved Dane from Auriel's wrath.
"You two are the only two who understand why I still wake up at night. And the only two who can tell me if I
really have something to be afraid of."
"I guess I get your point," Jacob said. He thumbed the corner of his tray thinking that they'd far exceeded the depth of conversation he was comfortable with. Dane must have felt the same way because he shifted uncomfortably and became preoccupied with the window.
Eventually he found a topic to fill the awkward silence.
"So are you coming to the meeting after school today?" Dane asked.
"What meeting?"
"Prom committee. It's just around the corner. We're voting on a theme, today."
"Sorry, I can't. I'm supposed to spar with Mara. Dr. Silva says it will be good practice in case the Watcher comes back."
"Fine. You go save the world. I'll deal with the prom."
"What themes are you thinking of anyway?"
"Um, I've thrown out a few to the group. Zombie apocalypse, NASCAR, sports legends...but the girls weren't crazy about them. Besides Malini and us there's only senior girls on the committee. I dunno, I think zombie apocalypse was growing on Bridget Mason."
"There's nothing like a few decaying body parts to make for a romantic prom," Jacob added.
"I know, right?"
* * * * *
After school, Jacob met Mara in Dr. Silva's backyard. He only had an hour to practice. He'd promised the Laudners he'd take over in the store tonight so that John could go back to the hospital. Katrina's status had improved slightly in the last twenty-four hours but she remained unconscious.
"Thanks for coming," Mara said. She must have sensed him because she didn't turn around when she said it. Sitting on the garden bench, she stared toward the raised beds, her long black hair braided down the back of her head.
"No problem. Where's Dr. Silva?" Jacob asked.
"She's checking on Malini with Gideon. She should be done with her initiation tomorrow afternoon. Dr. Silva just wants to check her body."
"To make sure she's still alive," Jacob added, gravely.
Mara turned then, her blue eyes catching the light. "Yes."
Jacob moved toward the house slipping his backpack off his shoulder. A heavy weight settled over his heart. Hopefully, the training would distract him from the constant worry. He tossed the pack down next to the greenhouse and gathered himself together. "So where do we start?" he said.
"Dr. Silva wanted us to spar. I guess we just attack each other. Don't hold back. We need to simulate how a Watcher would fight."
"She's trying to get us ready. She knows it's just a matter of time. "
"But we've known that since Chicago, Jacob. Why do you think she's encouraging this now?"
Jacob thought about the question. His eyes burned with fatigue and he rubbed them with his thumb and forefinger. "I think it's Malini. She's a Healer. One of only two in the whole world and now they know who she is. I think Dr. Silva knows they'll try to find her. I think they want to end her before she knows what she's doing. If they have some kind of plan, if you believe the Watcher's warning, she is the only one of us who will know how to stop them."
Mara twisted a tendril of hair that had escaped her braid around her finger. She seemed to be weighing something in her head.
"Let's get started." She walked around the bench and squared off against Jacob, the bell in her hand.
"So, we use our full powers. No holding back?"
"Kind of," Mara said. "Technically, I could stop time and thrust something sharp through your gut. Game over. But a Watcher can't do that, so neither will I."
"Thanks."
Jacob reached out with his power, to the puddle that collected under the drainage spout. They bowed to each other and the fight was on. The water flew to Jacob's hand, his sword cruising in her direction. She leapt into the air and the weapon passed beneath her feet. And then she was gone.
Jacob tried to react but her arms were already bear hugging him from behind. He threw his elbow into her gut forcing her backward. She let go.
In the blink of an eye, she was in front of him, again. He brought the sword around. She disappeared. A foot caught him in the ribs and he went flying, tumbling across the back lawn. He flipped up to his feet, and charged at her, tossing a sharp disc of ice in her direction. She disappeared again.
His only hope was to get close enough to touch her. If he was touching her and she stopped time, he'd stay animated with her. She reappeared behind him and wrapped her arm around his neck in a chokehold. Big mistake. Within her arms, he twisted to face her. She broke away and Jacob saw her move to ring her bell.
Lurching forward, he grabbed her wrist. Time stopped around them but because of the contact, he didn't stop with it. She struggled to free herself, twisting and hurling her other arm at his face. But he abandoned his sword, allowing it to drop to the earth, and blocked her punch. She tugged backwards, ringing the bell again and Jacob felt the air move around him once more. But, he didn't let her go.
Mara's foot shot forward, sweeping his legs out from under him. He tried to shift his weight and failed. Falling to the ground, he pulled her down with him, rolling over until he'd pinned her to the lawn. Hands restrained on either side of her head, she was helpless. He'd won.
"Gotchya," he said.
She stopped struggling. There was a look on her face he didn't understand. It was more than defeat. It was surrender.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
She shook her head slowly, raised it from the grass, and planted her lips on his. For a moment, he wasn't sure what was happening. Her lips were warm and wet and his body responded automatically. Her lips parted. Jacob jerked back, standing clumsily and wiping her kiss from his mouth.
"Mara, I—" he began. The next thing he knew he was lying on his back, his arms pinned on either side of his head. She was straddling him, her body pressed against his, her face so close he could feel her breath.
"Gotcha," she said into his lips. Slowly, she crawled off of him.
Jacob sat up feeling disoriented. His heart was pounding against his ribs, quickened by the sparing and maybe something else. Mara looked toward the horizon, working pretty hard not to meet his eyes.
"Mara, did you do that to distract me?"
The slightest hint of a blush colored her cheek.
"Of course. Why else would I do it?" she said, but her body betrayed her. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and popped her hip out defensively.
"It felt real."
"Well, you obviously haven't kissed very many girls then."
Jacob got to his feet and walked over to the place he'd left his backpack. Slinging it over his shoulder, he thought about just leaving and forgetting it ever happened. But in the end, he couldn't let it go.
"No. I haven't kissed anyone but Malini. But I hope I never kiss so many people that I can fake it as well as you can."
He turned to leave.
"Jacob?" Mara said.
"Yeah?"
"I wasn't faking," she mumbled toward the horizon.
"What?" Jacob had heard what she said but didn't want to believe she'd said it.
She turned to face him. The late afternoon sun glowed behind her head and in the light she was stunning. "I didn't fake it," she said more clearly. "I want to be with you. I've never met anyone who made me feel the way I feel when I look at you. We're equals, Jacob. Can't you see how good it could be?"
He didn't know what to say. His jaw dropped open and his mind went blank. All he knew was her silhouette against the light, the way the breeze and their sparring had loosened tendrils of her black hair, and the sudden electrifying memory of her body pressed against his. She was walking toward him. There was something he should say. There was someone else he should be thinking about.
And then her arms embraced his neck and she kissed him again, a hard, demanding kiss that set him off balance. Her hips pressed into his, her hand dug into the hair at the back of his neck and Jacob tried to remember why he should stop this, why the kiss and the heat felt good and wrong at the same time. It was a while before he remembered.
>
Slowly he pushed her away. "I can't do this. I'm with Malini. I shouldn't have let that happen."
"But you did. You're not married to her, Jacob. If you like me, why not give me a chance, too."
"I do like you Mara and you are…unbelievably beautiful. But I love Malini. And that means more to me. It would kill me to know I'd hurt her. I'm sorry."
"Yeah."
Jacob nodded a goodbye, straightened the backpack on his shoulder, and walked as quickly as possible to his truck. He was relieved when he climbed behind the wheel and locked himself in. He'd never intended to kiss Mara but he couldn't deny he'd enjoyed it.
The greatest temptation was that he could get lost in her. Kissing Mara, he hadn't thought of Watchers or Katrina or Malini's initiation. He hadn't thought of anything. She was an escape. Mara didn't have a dad who hated him and she was a Horseman, just like him. It would be simple with Mara.
But Jacob didn't love her. He loved Malini.
He started the truck and backed out of Dr. Silva's driveway, disappointed he'd let it go as far as it did. Malini would be home soon. Would he tell her what happened? Could he? Could he live with himself if he didn't? Jacob rubbed his chest where his heart began to ache.
Chapter 22
The Last Challenge
Once Malini regained her composure, she released Wisnu's neck and sat down on a boulder near the path. Raising her right hand, she saw that the glove Death had given her looked exactly like her own flesh and blood. There was a thin pale mark on the crook of her elbow. She dug her finger in and peeled back the glove to reveal the bones.
Wisnu backed up, whimpering.
"Yeah. Imagine being attached to it," Malini said. She flexed and stretched the bone hand in front of her face. Next to her, a patch of dandelions bloomed. She reached out with the dead fingers. One slight brush and they shriveled, crispy brown. Near her foot, a spider scampered toward Wisnu. Malini, who had even less love for spiders after the first challenge, touched it with a skeletal finger. It died, the legs curling into the abdomen.
