by Sarah Cross
His hand grazed her breast, and her breath caught in her throat.
Felix stopped. He seemed like he was weighing whether that was a yes gasp or a no gasp. The moment passed, and he smoothed her shirt into place so it covered her again. She wanted to do something, to show him she could be natural at this, but—she couldn’t. Her body had gone rigid with apprehension.
“You want to just sleep?” he said gently. She wondered if he was embarrassed for her, because she’d thought she could play in his world, and she couldn’t.
Mira nodded, then remembered it was dark. “Okay.”
“Come here,” he said, kissing the edge of her ear. He pulled her backward against him, so that his chest was pressed to her back, his breath warm against her neck. He held her, not speaking, just letting her be.
“Good night,” he said.
Mira lay still until she heard his breathing fall into the smooth, even rhythm of sleep. She touched Felix’s hand; said his name. But he just pulled her closer, sleepily possessive, so she was fitted more tightly against him.
Gradually, the sound of his breathing calmed her down. Once there was nothing to wait for, nothing to decide, her breaths fell in sync with his. She felt safe then, with his arms around her. Like she was his—even if it was just another daydream. Right then she felt like it was true.
“Good night,” she whispered.
CHAPTER SIX
MIRA WOKE RELUCTANTLY, her mind shaking off layers of sleep. She remembered, distantly, the warm pressure of a hand on her back, fingers rubbing up and down her spine. A whispered good morning that felt like a dream.
She lay on her stomach, her T-shirt pushed halfway up her back, the sheets kicked to the floor. When she felt the chill of the air-conditioning on her skin, she scrambled to pull down her shirt.
She wasn’t naked—nothing anyone else would consider private was on display—but it was almost worse than being naked. Because she couldn’t be sure how long she’d lain like that—and whether Felix had seen the ugly mark on her back.
As if she didn’t already have enough strikes against her—now she’d be deformed in his eyes, too. An immature girl with a freakish mark.
She wandered out into the empty suite, trying hard not to cry. Her embarrassment from last night came flooding back.
Why had she been so eager to stay with him? Everything was ruined now. The curtains in the living room were wide open, and she could see the ocean far below. The sparkle of the sunlight hurt her eyes.
On a table near the couch sat a vase of flowers and a crisp white card, and a silver serving tray with a domed lid. Inside the tray, she found breakfast: French toast with strawberries. Opening the card, she found a message from Felix.
Hey beautiful,
I tried to say good-bye this morning but you were impossible to wake up.
Playing catch-up today but I’ll be free later. We can drive to some cemeteries if you want—then do dinner?
I didn’t want you to feel trapped, so I left you my passkey. My home is your castle—you’re welcome to explore, and charge anything you need to the room. All I ask is that you stay out of my other room (suite 3013). I keep some private things there that must not be disturbed.
See you tonight,
Felix
The passkey lay on the table. Mira ran her fingers over it, feeling electric. He’d see her later. They were going to search again; he wasn’t repulsed by her mark. And in the meantime, she was free to explore, go shopping, whatever she wanted. His home was her castle.
She liked the sound of that.
Mira spent the morning exploring the hotel. She roamed the long halls of rooms, imagining the drama that went on behind closed doors. She even went up to the thirtieth floor, to check out the view—but she didn’t go near suite 3013.
Afterward, she headed down to the casino. She threaded her way through rows of slot machines, hoping to run into Felix; then skirted the gaming tables very, very quickly, searching for a head of blue-black hair.
There was no sign of him. Maybe he was in one of the VIP rooms, or in his office.
Or maybe he was in suite 3013. But she wasn’t about to barge into the one place he’d told her to stay out of. Maybe it was a test—and if it was, she was going to pass it.
The last place she explored was the shopping area. She browsed through designer jewelry and clothes, overpriced underwear, and even Dream memorabilia, like glittery T-shirts and magic wand earrings. Felix had told her to charge whatever she needed, but she didn’t want to abuse the offer. In the end, she bought a red satin nightgown from a lingerie boutique called Cinderella’s Secret—but she paid for that with cash, not Felix’s card.
On her way out of Cinderella’s Secret, Mira stopped to orient herself. The Dream’s shopping area was themed, like the rest of the hotel: it was made up of a series of wide corridors decorated to look like a forest trail. Shop windows peeked out from between trees, and vines and flowers grew over everything. A trail of Hansel-and-Gretel-style “bread crumbs” was embedded in the floor. The whole area was called Forest Passage, and in addition to boutiques, there were several cafés, some of which had “outdoor” seating in the “forest.”
Sitting at one of the outdoor cafés was Blue.
He sat with his back to her, at a small metal table, along with Freddie and a dark-skinned girl with a pink streak in her brown hair. Mira didn’t recognize the girl. She was kind of fierce-looking, closer to the Blue end of the fashion spectrum than to Freddie. She wore a shredded T-shirt over a white tank top, black shorts, and boots made for stomping.
Blue was going on about something. It was noisy in the Passage, so Mira couldn’t hear him, but she wouldn’t have been surprised if he was complaining about her. She hung back and spied for a minute, and probably would have gone on spying if Freddie hadn’t spotted her and waved her over.
Scrunching up her Cinderella’s Secret bag so they wouldn’t see the logo, she pasted on a smile and started toward them.
Blue regarded her with a bewildered expression that quickly cooled to indifference.
“You’re alive,” he said.
“I usually am,” she said.
Freddie rose to his feet in an almost courtly way. “Mira, how wonderful! We’d love it if you’d spend the day with us. Um, of your own free will this time.”
“Gee, thanks, could I?” she said.
“Yeah, spend the day with us,” Blue said. “You’re guaranteed one more day that way.”
Freddie frowned. “Blue, don’t be like that.”
“Don’t worry, I’m used to it,” Mira said.
The girl with the pink streak in her hair put down her drink to join in—then pressed a handkerchief to her mouth before any words could escape. Her eyes watered and she started to cough, like she was choking.
“Are you okay? Is she okay?” Mira asked, searching their faces for answers. “Does anyone know the Heimlich—?”
The girl held up a hand to stop her, then breathed and wiped her mouth, clutching the handkerchief in her fist. A wet lavender petal clung to her lip. “I’m fine.”
“Okay,” Mira said, still feeling like she should do something. “If you’re sure …”
“I don’t think we’ve met,” the girl said. “I’m Jewel.” Her voice was husky, lovely, bluesy. Her dark hair was pulled into a high ponytail, the pink streak twisted through it like a ribbon. A diamond stud glittered in her nose, and her ears were pierced with a row of precious stones: emerald, amethyst, pink sapphire, onyx. “I sing in Curses.”
“Oh, right. The band.” Mira said.
“We have a show this weekend,” Freddie said. “You should come.”
“Maybe,” Mira said. “I might have plans.”
“You might not be here,” Blue said. Then, turning to Freddie, as if Mira were already gone: “So there’s no use inviting her to anything.”
“I’ll be here,” Mira said.
“In theory,” Blue said, not bothering to look at her.
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“Uh … anyway,” Freddie went on, his gaze passing awkwardly between them, “we’d love it if you’d come out with us today. Or come to the show. If you have time.”
“We’re not very good. Well, we are,” Jewel said, “but Blue isn’t. He kind of ruins us. We’d be a good band otherwise.”
“If I was a competent musician, I’d be too sexy,” Blue said.
Mira snorted. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”
“Isn’t that the whole point of being our drummer?” Freddie said. “Nobody ever likes the drummer. Do you have to be bad, too?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Blue said.
Mira raised her eyebrows. “Are you telling me you have a drummer who can’t keep the beat?”
Jewel nodded. “He’s lucky we like him. And that girls come to our shows anyway to gawk at Freddie.”
“They do not come to gawk at me,” Freddie said. “They come to watch you.”
“They do not,” Jewel said. Then, to Mira: “Freddie plays hard to get.”
“I don’t play anything!” Freddie protested.
Jewel dismissed his claim with a wave of her hand. “Whatever, yes, you do. Freddie only dates princesses. He’s a snob like that. And princesses are always in short supply, so …”
“You like your girls high maintenance, Freddie?” Mira asked. “Aren’t those girls usually annoying?”
“I’m not … no, it’s not like that.” Freddie seemed flustered, unable to properly explain. “It’s not like that.”
“That’s why he’s still a virgin,” Jewel said with a wicked grin—before being interrupted by another coughing fit. She pressed the handkerchief to her mouth, and when she pulled it away, Mira saw that the cloth was full of sodden flowers: shiny-wet violets, tiny daisies, delicate pink bleeding hearts. All fresh and flecked with blood.
Mira swallowed and felt like she had a rosebud stuck in her own throat. Her mind fought to make sense of this, to feel anything but numb horror.
She had to be misinterpreting what she was seeing.
Jewel couldn’t be coughing up flowers.
Freddie was still stuck on Jewel’s last announcement. He seemed to think Mira’s horror was for him. “That’s not why,” he insisted, color rushing to his cheeks. “And … and it’s not like that’s a bad thing.”
Blue shrugged, unfazed. “We’re all virgins, except for you,” he said to Jewel. “Oh, and except for Mira. She slept with Felix last night.”
“Slept in the sense of sleeping,” Mira said. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“You just made it my business by telling me,” Blue said. “So what happened? He decided he wanted to play with you a little first?”
“You know, you are the most … despicable person I’ve ever met.” Mira’s fingers tightened around the Cinderella’s Secret bag. “You don’t even know me, but you insist on being a jerk to me every chance you get.”
“Only because I care,” Blue said, grinning. She would’ve slapped him if she didn’t think he would like it.
“Felix is not someone you want to hook up with,” Jewel said. “You should stay away from him. Count your blessings and move on.”
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t ask for your opinion either,” Mira snapped.
She knew it was rude, but she was struggling not to say something worse. Blue had no right to embarrass her in front of his friends. And she didn’t need to be lectured.
Jewel shrugged. “Your funeral.”
Mira told them she’d see them later, and left. She wasn’t in the mood to argue about Felix. Blue would say something nasty if she stayed; she’d never be able to get him to back down—especially not while Jewel was agreeing with him.
It wasn’t until she’d emerged from the hotel, and into the hot, bright light of day, that she remembered the blood-flecked flowers in Jewel’s handkerchief—as unnatural and fantastical as the Dream itself. There had to be a reason, even for something as unreasonable as that.
Her throat tightened as Felix’s words came back to her.
I don’t believe in coincidence.
Maybe the curses Blue and his friends joked about, and talked circles around, were real.
Mira made her way from the Dream to the “beautiful shore” Beau Rivage was named for. She wanted to stroll barefoot through the white sand, and think—not daydream, but try to make sense of things.
What exactly was going on here?
And what—if anything—did it have to do with her?
Sun worshippers and day-trippers streamed past her, carrying beach towels and picnic baskets, dog-eared paperbacks, plastic pails, and shovels. They were a blur of humanity, redolent of banana and coconut suntan lotion—but occasionally, an individual would stand out.
The crowd would part around someone, and Mira’s breath would catch. She saw a young man with a white-tipped cane, the skin around his eyes marred by crisscrossing scars. There was a girl whose hair frizzed around her head like dandelion fluff, looking harried as she darted through the crowd, a strange wooden doll clutched to her chest. Mira was tempted to stop her, ask her what was so urgent, but instinct told her not to. Besides, the girl was quick and out of sight before she could try.
Were these curses? Was that what she was seeing? Or was she just paranoid?
Mira was holding on to the railing of the boardwalk with one hand, peeling off her shoes with the other, when Henley and Viv stopped beside her, both in swimsuits. Henley was loaded down with a cooler and a cardboard tray stacked with French fries and hot powdered donuts. Viv was holding her car keys, hip cocked to one side as she fixed the knot on her red sarong.
Mira sighed. She hoped this didn’t mean Blue was on his way. “There’s no escaping you people, is there?”
“Excuse me?” Henley said, with his typical furrowed brow and humorless expression.
“Ha-ha, no, it’s a small world,” Viv said. “I’d like to get away from these losers once in a while, too.”
“If I wasn’t here, you’d have to carry your own shit,” Henley said.
Viv rubbed his shoulder play-vigorously. “You’re right. I’m so lucky!” She leaned in and kissed his arm, then kept her cheek pressed to his bicep, her dark eyes on Mira. “So, outsider, what do you say—join us? I can promise you no Blue, at least for a little while. And free food.” Viv snaked a fry from its paper wrapper and bit off the end. “Deal?”
“Didn’t you guys want to be alone?” Mira asked, watching Viv cozy up to Henley, totally confused by their behavior today versus yesterday.
“Um, no.” Viv laughed, then started down the steps to the beach. “Come on,” she called, waving at a red beach umbrella stuck in the sand. “That’s my spot.”
Viv ran ahead, her ghost-pale skin almost as white as her bikini, while Mira kept pace with Henley. She hooked her fingers inside the heels of her silver flats and carried them, letting her toes sift through the hot sand.
“So are you the gardener or her boyfriend?” she asked.
Henley glared at her. “You did not just ask me that.”
“What? Am I supposed to just know?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
Henley sighed roughly, the ice and drinks rumbling in the cooler as he shifted his weight. “You’re an outsider. You wouldn’t understand. So I’m not going to bother telling you.”
“If you don’t tell me,” she said, “I’ll ask Viv.”
Viv was standing under her umbrella, the wind rippling through her red sarong as she peeled it off and flung it aside, like an unwary matador taunting a bull. Henley’s face got tight as he watched her; there was an almost painful attraction there.
“I’m just her toy,” he said finally. “She treats me like shit and then on off days when she’s bored, I’m worth knowing. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“Sorry,” Mira said. “I just couldn’t figure you guys out….”
Henley continued across the sand,
dropped the cooler next to Viv, and sat down like the seat he’d picked was temporary. Like he’d be ordered away soon enough.
He’d claimed Mira couldn’t understand what was between him and Viv because she was an outsider. And she didn’t understand—but did that mean there was some secret detail that made their relationship make sense? Something an insider would know?
They’d hinted at curses—and she wanted to know what they were. Was it a curse if bad things happened to you? If all your relationships were broken? If you were broken?
Mira had lost her parents to fire. She’d been born with a hideous mark on her back. She was saddled with a sorrow that never grew lighter, and now, with a realization:
Maybe she was cursed, too.
The sun blazed down, pale and furious. Viv was curled up on a blanket under her umbrella, every inch of her drawn into the shade. Henley crouched a few feet away, shooing away the seabirds that were desperate to get close to Viv.
Mira lay just beyond the umbrella’s reach, rolling a wet plastic Coke bottle across her stomach to cool off. Pink light burned through her eyelids. She wasn’t sure how long she wanted to stay, but Viv was quiet, peaceful now, and the crash of waves was a good soundtrack for thinking.
What kind of curse did they all have? And was there something wrong with Felix, too?
So far the most obvious curse was Jewel’s: the wet flowers that rose from her throat, blooming in her waiting handkerchief like the blood of a consumption victim.
There was the odd allure Freddie and Viv held for animals. And Viv had said something about breaking Rafe’s curse; Layla had threatened to shoot Rafe on his “transformation day”. …
Blue was just obnoxious.
She wasn’t sure that added up to anything.
But Viv seemed more open than the others; maybe Mira could get it out of her.
“Your house is beautiful,” Mira said, to get her going.
“It’s a beautiful prison,” Viv said. “That’s all. Like the rest of my life.”
