The Rainbow Maker's Tale
Page 33
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“I don’t want to go,” Cassie murmured as we reached the Green Zone junction. The streets were deserted, which wasn’t a surprise: the nearby viewing screen showed it was nearly 11.30pm.
“Me either,” I agreed, stepping into her and sliding my arms around her waist. Cassie shivered against me, so I squeezed her closer
“Remember what I said about your mother.”
I didn’t answer, but stroked my finger over her cheek, marvelling at the light blush that seemed to follow my touch. There had to be some way for us to move on from here – away from the secrets and lies – I just needed to work out how.
She pressed on. “You have to guard your thoughts when you’re around her – especially since we’ve been talking about things I’ve never even heard of before like The Collective – she’ll know there’s something wrong if she picks that up from you.”
Cassie was right. I dropped my hand, and focused instead on her eyes. They were bright and intent on me, I could see she was being driven by fear.
“And what about you, how will you keep your thoughts to yourself?”
“I’ll just keep you at the front of my mind.” Cassie shrugged. “It seems to be what my parents expect, and to be honest it’s not much of a change from normal anyway.”
I smiled at the partial compliment, and tried to hide my own fear that we were trapped inside something much worse than I had ever imagined.
“I’m scared.” Cassie’s face pressed into my shoulder, muffling her words.
“You don’t have to be scared – you’ve got me. We’ll work this out together.” I promised, stroking her hair. When the dark figures from Cassie’s dream stalked through my own mind, my arms tightened around her. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“What are you going to do? Be a hero and sit outside my apartment all night to keep watch over me?”
Cassie was still squeezed into my shoulder, and her warm breath seeped through the fabric of my suit when she spoke. “Something like that,” I whispered back, realising that it was actually a pretty good idea. I leaned in to kiss her. “You’re my Achilles heel, you know.”
“Achilles shouldn’t have had a weakness.”
I might have laughed at her immediate, logical denial of the ancient myth. Except, there was no laughter inside me. “All of us – heroes and gods, but especially mere mortals – have a weakness,” I said, placing my lips onto hers.