“No,” I protested, my hand waving for his attention to remain on me, “coffee.” That would fix it, that would make me feel whole again.
“We’ll make a deal, huh?” he said, somehow ignoring the way that my breath caught as he slid into view, his head tilted to the side so that he could look into my eyes once more. Did Leo not know that he was glorious? Obviously not, because he continued to talk, my brain struggling to hold onto the words as his mouth kept moving. “—And then you’ll get your coffee, alright? You just do those two things, and I promise you, a big cup of coffee when you wake up.”
Wake up?
“No,” I pleaded, hands reaching out for his face. Would he be there when I woke up? Right there where I could reach him? Or would he wander off once more, disappearing into the unknown? It wasn’t worth the risk. The amused look on his face, the quirk of his eyebrows; I just wanted to look at those. “No more sleeping, not anymore. I’ve slept so much; the night is already gone.” Days, there were only days left. How many? God, I had no idea how long I’d been sleeping, how many days did we have left?
“There will be tomorrow,” Leo reassured, his lips sticking to my skin as he pulled away from kissing my forehead, a tender softness upon his features. “And then the day after, and the day after that one. There will be time, Lyra.”
“But what about the days after those?” I blinked. My voice was high, childlike. I knew, more than anything I knew. Time was moving fast, there would not be much longer. We had no solution, and Leo would turn twenty-five in a matter of days. And then what? What happened next?
He sighed, a sadness beginning to overwhelm his features. Just as I thought, nothing had changed. His hand gripped mine, his body sinking into the space on the bed beside me, slowly working his way underneath the covers until he was there with me, his lovely heat beginning to spread out and grace the parts of me that I hadn’t even realized were cold. His eyes, mere inches from mine then, looked forward, small wrinkles showing underneath the bags as he smiled.
“Leo…” Delicately, that was the only way I could speak. This was it then, for all that I’d done and all that I hoped. Maybe the man did have a way to make Leo live, using the powers of all those he’d trapped combined. But it didn’t matter anymore, he was gone, and someday really soon, Leo would be too. There would be no more art, no more cups of tea mixed and blended by his knowing hands. No more sweaters overwhelming his form, no more hands searching for mine.
Two months had passed, now only days remained. Leo Hoang would die.
I shifted forward, my hands grasping both of his, wishing for another way, another miracle to occur.
“Why are you crying, Lyra?” He exhaled, thumb reaching forward to wipe away the drops of moisture that I felt. “I’m happy, I’ve had a good life. I’ve done things no one else can say, a great deal of them because of you. Lyra, I— Because of these past few weeks I’ve had more than a lifetime of adventure.” There was doubt in his voice, a desperate want for more, and yet he proclaimed, “I’ll be okay.”
What an awful liar.
“I’m scared,” I admitted, my legs entangling with his. Anything to draw him closer, to make it so that he wouldn’t leave. “I wish…”
“I do too, Lyra,” Leo whispered, his head reaching forward, lips brushing past the tip of my nose. “But we make the best of what time we have, we do the best we can for the people we love. Death isn’t scary, not if you make sure that the people around you are taken care of; that’s what matters.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple shifting with the motion, “we tried, and that’s all that matters. We gave it our all, we tried to find a way, and in the end, we did something extraordinary. Pat and those people, they had done horrible things Lyra, all in the name of power. And you did something astonishing that day, you put a stop to it. That’s worth death to me, Lyra. This city, the people who live in it, the people who walk on these streets and try to have normal lives; they’re worth a thousand of me.”
“Not to me,” I choked.
He smiled, his shoulders curling closer, lips touching mine, relishing in the motion. That sweetness, the sweetness that always followed Leo, filled my lungs once more. He was there, he was alive, and in that moment, he was mine.
I relished in the bittersweetness of his touch, prematurely lamenting its loss with every breath. But it was there, and it was mine. For that moment, his dark eyes were mine, and I could memorize the way they looked open and closed, his long lashes fanning out onto his cheeks. For that moment, his soft, albeit damaged, lips were mine, and I could cling to the way that the scent of lavender and jasmine transferred to mine. His arms were my home, bringing me closer to the fire that burned within his chest. His long, straight hair wove its way between my fingers. In that moment, I would try to remember every detail, to bottle the essence that made Leo Leo, so that when he was gone, I could replay those moments over and over, and pretend he’d never left.
“You live, alright?” He begged against my lips just as he allowed the bottom one to escape the gentle graze of his teeth. “You promise me that you’ll live, and you’ll live a long, happy life. You’ll get married, you’ll have children, and you’ll love someone so deeply that you’ll never think of me.”
False promises, words that I couldn’t give him. I nodded into him all the same, if only to make him feel something, an ounce of joy.
“You’ll see your mother more often,” he pleaded, “and write her all those stupid letters she desires,” his mouth was on mine once again, hands falling to my hips, pressing my close against his body. “And you’ll pay attention to Yvie, go out when she wants you too, see your old friends. Don’t work for another shitty bookstore that doesn’t appreciate you,” he said in between hurried kisses, lips pressing deeper and deeper into mine.
“No more shitty bookstores,” I promised. That part of me was done, that foolish desire was spent. I couldn’t be a human, not after this. There were a million reasons sitting right in front of me why I couldn’t anymore, a man who had forced me to accept a part of myself that I’d turned away from in fear. “No more dead flowers either, no more rotten roses. I promise you.”
“You’ll get a nice apartment, one with actual room for you to open your drawers all the way,” he pleaded, earning a snort on my part. I hadn’t realized that my living arrangements had upset him that much. I pushed closer to him, mouth lingering far too long on his, hands grasping the back of his head and forcing him in closer.
“The nicest,” I reassured him as I pulled away, air being hard to come by while the haze of Leo clouded my mind. How a man could be so all consuming, so enticing; how could anyone ever compare to Leo when he was gone?
He pulled away, his hand trailing softly across my cheek, a groan of disappointment escaping his lips. His eyes took in mine, really took them in, the depths of his soft, shining black eyes drank me in deeper and deeper. How was I supposed to move on from that? “Just because I’ll be dead, doesn’t mean that life has to end for you too.”
29
One Last Cup of Tea
The last day came in the blink of an eye. A quick facetime with his mother, who was rather enjoying her clueless vacation in the Bahamas, some short sketches shoved into envelopes along with letters for his aunts, and a long list of movies and media that he regretted never seeing. And then it was there, the end, the last blessed hours on earth with Leo.
What would you do if you had only one day left? If the timer was ticking in the background, and you knew that the next twenty-four hours would be your last? Knowing that when you went to bed it would be for the last time, would you even sleep? Who would you call? Who would you not? Would you say goodbye, even if it was hard? Or would you try, even though it seemed futile, to pretend that it was just another day? Another perfect day.
We’d planned this big feast, a call to every single take out place we’d ever ordered from; but at the last moment, he changed his mind. Dying has a nasty habit of upsetting you, and I’m sure, knowing what
would soon come, he could not stomach the food even if he desperately wanted it.
No, we ended up on the northside, just outside of Magictown, in a small tea shop called Martha’s. Despite the potions and his endless optimism, Leo had grown too frail to so much as lift a kettle. Steam and the motion of stirring brought tears to his eyes, though he tried to hide them, and there was really no other option left.
It was the only thing I could give him, the only proper way to send him on his way. His head on my shoulder, every step falling heavier; I practically carried him in.
Martha’s was a small, cluttered tea shop. Pink, floral walls strained to hold up a variety of tea plates, nearly every wall holding a shelf containing a variety of old tea pots. Cartoon characters, political figures, cats, and all sorts of objects sported tea spouts, eyes gleaming out from the shelves. The floor was a simple, white painted wood, flecks of the latex peeling away as foot traffic had steadily worn down the entryway over the years. The seats were overstuffed, plush armchairs, each gathered around a mismatched coffee table, not one of them seeming to adhere to any single theme. A sign at the corner, nearest the front door said, sit down, all are welcome, and we took that invitation seriously.
Scooting a bright pink armchair and a faded blue one close together, I helped Leo into his spot, sitting beside him with my hand in his, my other hand resting atop his knee. He flashed a quiet, thankful smile, lifting our intertwined hands up to his pale lips. If I could have moved closer, I would have.
The scent of tea filled the air, steam rising and pouring in a never-ending stream out of the kitchen. We seemed to be the only ones in the shop, and the only ones to have been there for a while, a variety of spices, herbs, and floral scents greeted our nostrils, seeming to linger endlessly in there. But there was something else too, the hint of yeast, as bread baked in the kitchen ovens. I shot Leo a look, my raised eyebrows seeming to ask if he’d like to wait, whoever was running the shop was hard at work, but we didn’t have the luxury of time.
He nodded in response, perhaps too tired to keep moving, the banging of porcelain and metal in the back doing nothing to sway him further away from sleep. He’d been tired lately, deeply so. Once or twice, he murmured to me that he now knew how I felt, a comment that made me laugh. Still, I couldn’t ignore the way that he struggled to keep his head up.
I let him drift, dozing closer and closer to the edge. It was a kindness in the end, though he’d insisted that he wanted to remain awake as long as possible, I couldn’t stand to see him fight it. He’d awake again soon, give his order, and then we’d be on our way. There was no harm in only allowing a few minutes.
Or so I thought.
Smoke began to pour out of the kitchen, a heavy cough following suit. Leo’s eyes sprang open, and I began to stand once more, concern coating both of our expressions. When it didn’t stop immediately, the alarm became far harder to fight.
“Hello?” My voice carried as I began to walk away from Leo, my hand lightly pressing him back into the chair. “Is everything alright?”
No response.
I stepped forward, casting a wary look back to Leo, yet calmed by the lack of fire alarms ringing.
“Hello?” I called. “Is anyone in there?”
A sputter responded to me, and I rushed through the yellow saloon doors that served as an entrance to the kitchen, alarm bells ringing in my head even if they weren’t ringing on the wall. My hand sat on the door, ready to push it in before a face greeted me, Blue eyes nearly lost in a sea of glass, soot covering her face in long smudges.
A fretting old woman pushed through past me, her croaking voice loud as she announced to the parlor, “No need for concern, anyone, just another grand old mistake on my part!” Her hands wrung together as she admitted, “just a silly old woman, trying once again to relive her youth! No concern!” Her face suggested that there was much concern to be had, she was nearly in tears
She stomped her feet, clearly disappointed in herself, the motion shaking loose thick black soot from her skin. Mottled, paper thin skin showed again, a shock of white visible through the black. She pulled the round glasses off her face, sniffling as she wiped away the tears from her eyes, doing very little to help with the blackness on her face, instead forcing more of the soot from her sleeves to adhere to her eyes.
“My mother’s recipes, and yet here I am, her flesh and blood who can’t even begin to cook them! A liar that Marla Cain is, curse her and her cookbook! Easy she says, that’s what they all say! Oh, to dig her up and give her a piece of my mind,” she grumbled into the ground, her eyes downcast as she shuffled closer. But then, the edge of my shoe must have entered her vision, the woman’s eyes widened as she looked up, hurriedly placing her glasses crookedly onto her nose. “Oh, I’m so sorry there, miss, you must ignore me, these are the prattling’s of—” Her mouth fell open, the woman removing her glasses and then placing them once more, squinting through the large lenses. “You,” she said, a strange sort of excitement to her tone. “The girl!”
Oh.
I recognized her then, though it’d been a while since I’d so much as thought of her. The older woman from the shop, the one who had wanted to buy the cookbook that her mother once used. There she was, covered in soot, cursing over what was very likely the same cookbook. Her blue eyes formed into perfect circles as she stretched upward to look at me, amusement on her features.
“You’re here alone?” She marveled, but then quickly reassured herself, “No, of course not. Meek, a little shy, but—” She cut herself off, throwing an excited look behind her, her slipper covered feet skittering forward on the floorboards, a sharp inhale sounding from her lungs.
“I…” I began, unable to figure out what exactly to say to the woman.
But she seemed to know exactly what to say, and exactly what to do. In a few easy steps she crossed the floor, and stood before Leo, grasping his face in her hands. “Leo!” She marveled, patting his cheeks. “The nice young man! Why, I never thought I’d see you here!” She pulled away, taking in his face once more in his entirety before, seeming to have decided that she found a fault with it, reaching into her pocket and withdrawing a stained handkerchief. Licking the tip, she leaned forward, wiping away some imaginary dirt. “Oh my, look at you! Just as you were the day I met you.” He was most certainly was not, but no one needed to point that out.
“The witch,” was all Leo could begin to say, his voice faint as she moved back in, throwing her arms tightly around his neck.
“First my sister at the crossroads, and now here; my you’ve had the strangest of luck,” she said, not caring to explain herself. She turned back to me, gleaming as she declared, “which means that your name is Lyra, Lydia’s girl.” She clapped her hands in delight, eyes moving from him to me, unsure where to land before she declared, “and on just the day that you two were supposed to meet! What a lovely surprise!” She was practically shaking with excitement, looking back and forth between us over and over again, seeming to struggle to decide what exactly it is she would like to do. “Oh, to hell with it, I’ll get the tea first!” She declared, hurrying past with little regard for Leo or I’s astounded expressions.
She pushed through the doors beside me, once again vanishing into the kitchen.
Leo opened his mouth to speak, but then once again shut it, interrupted by the whistle of a kettle far away.
“Leo,” I began to say, yet was cut off by the woman hurrying past me once more.
“Lotus,” she declared. It wasn’t a question; she’d already decided what kind she’d make. “and for the girl, something sweet and refreshing, a peppermint tea, perhaps.” Never mind the fact that Leo had already decided that he would be drinking his mother’s favorite that day. “But you have to drink it all now, otherwise it will not work, you see. All the liquid, not a drop left; wouldn’t want it to fail you.”
Still confused, definitely still concerned, Leo nodded, his eyebrows knitted together. It was hard to understand but, this
feeling overcame me as well, a feeling that we should not argue with her. Whatever her intentions, they were harmless.
“And so, you’ve found each other despite it all,” she began to squeak, happiness evident on her face. “I told my sister, I said that nothing would go wrong, she need only have faith. That man may have caused trouble and had his own plans, but he didn’t realize that the universe has a way of correcting itself. That’s why you’re here, after all, because you’re meant to be. Because Leo is meant to drink this cup of tea. Oh,” she turned to me, her hands reaching for mine, clenching them softly in hers, “I am just so happy. I didn’t know it before, but I’m glad that it’s you. When that nasty girl at the shop beckoned you forward, I thought to myself, ‘oh, I hope it’s her’, and here you are! It wouldn’t have worked if it were anyone else.”
“What wouldn’t have worked?” I asked, confusion overwhelming me.
“Well,” she said, “he wouldn’t have gotten here, and he wouldn’t have drunk this tea—Oh! The tea!” She hustled past me again, soon reappearing with a steaming cup in her oven mitts, the water still very visibly clear. “I just can’t wait any longer, not for him,” she declared, her finger drawing a circle around its rim, the tea darkening as she walked it over to him, setting it down on the table in front of him. “Drink, drink, drink!” She commanded, “while it’s still hot, and then, I promise you, everything you’ve wanted will come true.”
“That’s—” he began to say, but then her beckoning blue eyes loomed closer, hands moving up to urge him to drink. He couldn’t resist her, not really, not when she loomed so close. He grabbed the edge of the cup, careful not to burn himself, tilted his head back, and drank. For some reason, I couldn’t help but feel her delight.
The City of Crows Page 21
