Silla pressed both hands to her mouth. She scrambled up and backed away. “I didn’t even say anything!” she said, as though explaining would change them back. She bumped into my chest. The wind began plucking petals up and tossing them around. For one ridiculous moment, I thought of Skittles commercials. Taste the rainbow.
She turned around to face me. “Oh God, Nick. You, um …” She continued babbling. This was the perfect opportunity for me to tell her everything. I should have. I should have taken her shoulders and calmly explained that she didn’t have to worry or freak out. I knew. About everything.
“Nick,” Silla whispered. Her cold fingers groped at mine.
“It’s okay,” I said slowly, for some reason unable to confess. Maybe because all I could really think about was whether she’d kiss me again. “I didn’t imagine that, did I.”
“No. It’s … magic. I—I know you can’t believe me, that it’s too impossible,” she said, and drew her hands away.
“No, no, I saw that thing with the leaf on Saturday night. I saw what you did then. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I saw it. This is like … proof.” All true. I hadn’t been sure. Hadn’t wanted to be.
Air hissed out through her teeth. “I wouldn’t believe it if I wasn’t the one doing it.”
I didn’t answer. Just licked my lips. They still tingled from her kisses. All of me tingled with the need to grab her up again and kiss her, to drive her into more magic. The helicopter roared in my head.
“It’s magic, Nicholas. Blood magic. You shouldn’t believe in it.”
Taking her hands, I drew her closer and kissed her. “But I do,” I said. You, in the middle of all those flowers, are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
SILLA
As we trudged across Mr. Meroon’s cow pasture, eyes out for patties, I continued to throw glances at Nick. I wanted to grab his hair again, dig my fingers in until the hat tumbled off, and kiss him. The expression on his face was difficult to read in the moonlight, but he was obviously thinking hard about something. Me, probably. And blood magic. I hoped he wasn’t planning his escape.
The cool wind raised goose pimples on my arms, and I picked up my pace. I should have been more upset that I’d done magic accidentally, but I just couldn’t be. It was a beautiful night; I was with a really great guy who made me smile and didn’t think I was psycho. The magic had just been a spontaneous explosion of my general mood and excitement, catalyzed by the blood from my lip. From our kisses. It had been our mood.
“Is that the cemetery?” Nick asked. I popped back into the moment. My fingers tingled.
Milky tombstones were just becoming visible beyond the low stone wall. “Yeah. Your house is that way.” I pointed off to our right. “That bunch of darkness is the woods around it.”
“Okay.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Why were you there the other night? With the leaf? Does it have to be a cemetery?”
“No, I guess not. But I like it there, near my father.”
We climbed over the cemetery wall. “Does this place get used by many?”
“No. My parents were the first in years. Your grandpa is over in the nicer, more modern one on the north side of Yaleylah. I don’t know why anyone would want to be buried there, though. It’s so sterile. Fake.” My voice lowered. “Death isn’t either of those things.”
“People might want it to be. Take those military cemeteries. All rows of little white headstones, exactly the same. Ordered, simple. Not like war.”
I wanted to be holding his hand again. He got slightly ahead of me, picking his way around a long, low tomb, and I watched him walk. He was so gangly and tall. Like half-grown animals, when their paws are still too big, and their legs way too long, and you know they’re going to grow into it all eventually and be the handsomest thing you ever saw. With messed-up hat-hair.
Wiping the smile off my lips as I realized I was crushing on Nick in the graveyard where my parents were buried, I hurried to catch up. He glanced over. “You okay?” His eyebrows rose, opening his face.
“Yeah.” I tucked in my chin and paced on, almost jogging around the bend in the overgrown path. “If we cut back this way, we can just follow the wall around to my house.”
His eyebrows arched up higher.
I paused and laughed nervously. “If you, um, want to come back to my house. You’re welcome.”
Stalking toward me, Nick kissed me again, arms going around me. He dipped me back like he had when we were dancing. “I’d love to,” he said against my mouth before leaning us back up.
My breath stuck in my throat, so I only nodded and turned away to lead him quickly down the treacherous path.
SILLA
I stared at the kettle, focusing on the tinny hiss of bubbles bursting inside, and tried not to be so aware of Nick’s arm nearly brushing mine as he reached past me and flicked the white ruffle of the kitchen curtain.
“My stepmom would drop dead if she walked in here. Can I invite her over?”
“Why don’t you like her?” I lifted myself onto the counter to sit beside the two matching mugs. The paper flags from the tea bags dangled over the rims.
“She showed up at Dad’s offices, to hire him to help out with that stalker thing, and I’m pretty sure they were in bed by suppertime.” He shrugged, still looking out the window.
I crossed my ankles and swung my legs slightly. My heels knocked into the cabinets.
Nick turned his gaze and caught me staring. I licked my lips and glanced down at my rings.
“Anyway,” he continued, backing up to the kitchen table and pulling out a chair, “Lilith talks; Dad obeys. When we heard about Grandpa dying, she was all, ‘What a perfect place for a novelist,’ and besides her literary career, she didn’t want to raise any kids in the city. Kids. Can you believe it? I mean, he’s almost fifty.”
“What about her?”
“Oh, younger. Thirty-two.”
The teakettle whined, and I slid off the counter just as it began to shriek. I poured the steaming water into the mugs, and placed saucers over the tops. “To help it steep,” I explained to Nick’s questioning eyebrows, walking the mugs over to the kitchen table very carefully. I sat a third of the way around the table from him and leaned on my elbows for support. “You don’t—have to stay, you know.”
He didn’t move at all, keeping still as a statue. “Do you want me to leave?” he asked quietly, eyes on mine, then sinking to my lips.
Before I knew what I was doing, I pushed back my chair. I was standing, walking to Nick. He tilted his head back to hold my gaze. Under the bright kitchen lights, he looked older, and calm. Strong. His hands rested on his knees, and they were wide and large, like they could hold anything I offered. The brown of his eyes washed out in the full-spectrum light shining from the brass chandelier. He blinked, and I touched his cheek, brushing my fingers down from the corner of his eye, where someday wrinkles would press.
My eyelids fluttered closed just as I kissed him.
We were still for a long moment, lips touching, barely breathing. Then Nick put his hands on my hips and I sank onto his lap. I opened my eyes, and he was so close. I kissed the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his mouth again, and parted my lips to offer him a taste. It was slow and I was comfortable there, kissing and breathing in the smell of his skin and the gel he used to slick back his hair. My skin tingled, but kissing didn’t hurt like the magic did.
His hands found my neck and cupped my jaw, fingers teasing at the hair behind my ears. Shivers rushed down my spine, and we kissed and kissed. I never wanted to let go.
A car door slammed, and the muffled noise managed to penetrate my bliss. I leaned away, breathless, and caught Nick’s eyes. They were dazed and clouded, and he said, “Why?” very softly, like a child who’s just been put in the corner for arcane adult reasons.
I kissed him again lightly. “Someone’s home.”
He frowned, slowly catching up with what I was saying. Then he blinked slowly, several times
. The soft skin beneath his eyes begged to be touched. “Oh. Your brother?”
“Maybe. Maybe Gram Judy.” Reluctantly, I stood up from his lap.
Nick ran his hands back through his hair, paused, and rolled his eyes up as if trying to see the damage.
His hair stuck up in every possible direction. I giggled.
“Christ, do you have a bathroom?”
“Down the hall, first door on the left.”
He went in a hurry, and I uncovered our tea. Steam billowed out. We hadn’t been kissing for that long, then. Not quite as forever as it’d seemed. I closed my eyes and shivered, leaning my hands on the table. My cheeks felt flushed and my lips raw. The thin gash inside my lip that had bled earlier throbbed with my heartbeat. I’d never felt this way before. So electrified.
The front door unlocked and opened, and I heard Gram’s footsteps and the smack of her leather purse on the hard tiles of the entryway. I was glad it wasn’t Reese—though I suddenly remembered I needed to call him before long and tell him I wasn’t at the party.
I grabbed my cell out of my pocket and texted him: HOME SAFE! just as Judy came into the kitchen. “Hey,” I said to her, and putting down my cell, I took my untouched mug and offered it to her.
“Why, Silla, you’re home. Thank you, dear.” She took the tea and collapsed into a chair. One hand unbuttoned her jacket and the other pinched free the clip-on pearls dangling from her ears. “What an evening. These girls out here watch ridiculous movies.”
“It was at Mrs. Pensimonry’s house?”
“Yes! Did you know it would be awful?”
“Her grandson was in Reese’s class—told Reese she can’t get enough Animal Planet since she got satellite TV.”
“Did you know, Silla, that there are entire shows about rescuing animals from cruel owners? They’re almost like documentaries. I nearly laughed, before I saw that all the others had these looks of absolute horror on their faces. I’d have been a pariah for requesting something more thought-provoking.”
“Are you going next month?” I poured a third mug and dug a tea bag out of the drawer.
“Well, Penny promised me some Cary Grant, so yes, probably.” She sipped her tea. “How was your party?”
I shrugged as I sat. “Okay.”
“How’d you get home?”
With perfect timing, Nick walked in. He’d managed to pull his hair into a semblance of neatness.
“This is Nicholas Pardee, Gram Judy.” I wrapped both hands around my mug, reveling in the long form of his name.
Judy stood. “Oh, I see,” she said, offering her hand.
They shook. Nick said, “Pleasure to meet you. You’re Silla’s grandmother?”
“Judy, please. And no, I was married to her grandpa for a few years, but after her dad was born.”
“Not from here, are you?”
“No, and I hear by those vowels that neither are you.”
Nick grinned and Judy mirrored it. I watched their moment of camaraderie with slight envy.
Judy, who had of course lived in Chicago, grilled Nick about the waterfront and exhibits at the Atlas Galleries, which had been her favorite. He’d never heard of the galleries but told her what was happening at the Shedd Aquarium. Soon Judy was talking about her third husband (just after Grandpa), who’d had a flat in the city in the early 1980s. Nick seemed interested, or he was a better actor than most boys I knew. He nodded and asked questions, and the corner of his lips curved up just a little. I rested my chin in my hand and studied the bend of his cheekbone, his ear, the stiff chunks of hair rather desperately in need of a comb or gel. But the mess suited him.
I’d never wanted so suddenly to be with someone. I’d dated a little, mostly flirting and putting boys off from anything serious because I knew I was going away to college and not interested in long-term relationships. I’d been friends with a bunch of boys in theater, and had always been around Reese’s friends, two of whom I’d majorly crushed on. There’d been Eric, of course, and Petey sophomore year. But with Nick, I wasn’t yearning for him to notice me or to smile, or ask me out. After tonight, it was clear the yearning was mutual. And the way he looked at me, not just like he wanted to kiss me forever but like he saw through the masks. I shivered with anticipation.
Just like the spell book, he’d dropped into my life when I was only trying to forget everything and survive. The book tempted me with answers. With the possibility of a real explanation for my parents’ deaths. With magic. What was Nick tempting me with? Everything I’d given up while kneeling in their blood? Everything that had melted out of me to make room for the smell and the fear. Fun, laughter, dating, driving fast, imagining next year and the next with hope—
Or maybe just kisses. Maybe just a few hours away from home. Some trust, if I was lucky. Love, even?
“Silla?”
“Hmm?”
Nick and Gram Judy were both looking at me.
“You’re falling asleep in your hand.” Judy shook her head, unable to wipe the smile away. “You should get to bed, after the week you’ve had.”
“I can walk home.” Nick stood. “It’s close.”
“No, I’ll drive you—I can borrow your car, can’t I, Gram?” I pressed to my feet, and my head swam. It must have been the flowers. I’d made them so quickly, so suddenly. All my energy had been used up by flowers and kissing.
“Pish-posh, that’s ridiculous. Nick is a big boy; he can walk. You’re much too tired, and he’s a gentleman.” She waved dismissively, then gathered all three tea mugs and dumped them into the sink.
“It’s fine, Sil.” Nick took my hand. “Walk me halfway?” He wove his fingers in with mine.
The healed pink scar on my palm prickled. “Yeah.”
Out back, I took him to the edge of our yard, where the forsythia bushes created a tall, lanky hedge. There was a thin spot, and we pushed through. It was only a dozen steps to the crumbling old graveyard wall.
We walked in silence, fingers woven together. The moon was bright enough that only the strongest stars shone, and some wispy clouds had blown in from the west. Like dark gray brushstrokes on the horizon. I sighed, and squeezed Nick’s fingers. And then came the intruding thought: Mom would have liked him.
My throat closed, and I turned my face away from Nick so that he wouldn’t see the surge of pain slash over my face. It didn’t matter, now or ever, how much I liked a boy. I’d never again go through that mildly uncomfortable moment when I introduced him to my mom. Or feel the shaky nerves as Dad looked him up and down before saying, “No worse than Ophelia did.” And if the boy laughed, he passed the test.
“Silla?”
Nick gently tugged at my hand so I’d face him. We were halfway between our houses, beside a grimy statue of a cherub. I kept my eyes lowered, not sure I was in control of myself yet. My sea-green mask waited just beneath the surface.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
“Ophelia.”
“Hamlet’s girlfriend?”
“Yeah.”
“The one who drowned herself.”
“Yeah.”
He stepped closer so that I had to look up or let him crush my nose with his chin. Our lips met, and when Nick pulled away, he murmured, “How about a happier one? Like … no. Um … no. Jesus, all the Shakespeare girls I know are from tragedies. What’s a good one who gets to live happily ever after?”
“Miranda. From The Tempest. She grew up with magic.” Her dad was a great magician. I laughed without humor.
“Okay, Miranda, babe. Thanks for the tea.”
Moonlight shone on the angles of his face. “I had … a good time,” I said, and was immediately struck by what a stupid thing it was to say. To salvage the moment, I kissed him. He returned it, keeping the rest of his body back. Only our lips touched. I wanted to open his mouth and dive inside it. But Nick pulled away. “So, Magic Girl, will you show me more?”
A thrill raced up my spine. “Yes. Come to the cemetery tomorro
w afternoon around two.” I kissed him again. Pressed against him. I didn’t want him to go.
Nick groaned and pushed back. “Babe, you keep doing that and I won’t be able to leave.”
I hugged myself, stepped away. “Sorry.” I already missed his warmth.
“Don’t be—just …” He reached out a hand, but let it fall. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
He didn’t move. We stared at each other until Nick very slowly grinned. “Want to go out to dinner?”
I giggled, surprised at the genuine delight the idea of a date with Nick gave me. “Yes.”
“Rock on.” With a jaunty little salute, he dashed off through the rows of graves.
“Bye,” I whispered, and stayed out under the moonlight until my teeth began to chatter.
NICHOLAS
Girl surrounded by flowers
Technicolor kiss
For all the night’s lengthy hours
I’ll miss …
I was in an awesome mood. That’s probably why the rhymes were spilling through my head and I didn’t even bother trying to sneak in. I went straight in through the garage, kicked aside Lilith’s muddy gardening boots, and pushed through to the kitchen. I might have been humming.
My shoes clacked on the tile floor as I headed for the fridge. I dragged out orange juice and a half-eaten summer sausage.
“Nick, is that you?”
“Yep!” I called, not even caring that Lilith was probably going to come try and be social.
She swept into the room, trailing the silk hem of her robe on the floor. “Darling, I can cook you something if you’re hungry.”
“Give it a rest, okay?” I smiled.
Her body stilled. “What, exactly?”
“You know, the mom thing. The homemaker thing.” I didn’t really expect anything but a tantrum, or maybe a cold scoff and exit. Thinking of Silla, I hopped onto the counter. My flask pinched my ass, but I didn’t want to remove it in front of Lilith.
Blood Magic Page 9
