Book One: The Girl (The Sanctum) (27 page)

"How this all plays out is the story you're going to write; words in an ancient book do not control what you decide to make of yourself. So you can sit around feeling sorry for yourself or you can get up and start acting like a leader. The choice is all yours.”

Sam sat back and allowed her words to sink in, hoping Dev didn’t haul off and kill her. She knew her tone was harsh and she was short with the girl, but enough was enough. They didn’t have the luxury of time right now. Hopefully somewhere down the line, there would be a chance for Sam to talk to Dev in more detail about her parents, but right now was not the time. Now was the time for harsh truths and stark realities.

“Great speech, Sam. Thanks,” Dev stated sarcastically as she stood up from her chair and headed for the door, “and you’re right: I am destined to be a great leader. It’s my birthright and I’ve known it since I can remember. But let’s get one thing straight: whatever I do from here on out has nothing to do with my parents or you and Josiah and any of the sick plans the four of you concocted all those years ago. And since I’m being brutally honest right now, I might as well also tell you that you’re lucky you are Wyatt’s parents, otherwise you’d be dead already. Because even though I’m willing to save The Sanctum, I cannot say I’m feeling quite so charitable towards the two of you.”

For hours Dev
lay on the floor of her living room, staring at the ceiling, not focused on anything in particular, just needing some time to clear her thoughts and be alone. She went over the story of her parents, their initial deception of The Sanctum and their second deception of her.

Dev knew she shouldn’t view their actions through such a dark prism, but she could not help it.

At least not right now.

She needed some time to elapse before the pain would subside and she might be able to see their actions differently; right now the knowledge was still fresh and the pain was very raw.

A knock at her door pulled her out of her circular thoughts and she slowly rose to see who wanted the next piece of her soul.

“Hey,” Wyatt said quietly, studying her dead eyes and spent face.

Dev smiled weakly but said nothing.

He wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and hold her, but knew doing so would only raise her hackles, make her angrier, more closed-off. Instead, Wyatt simply held out his hand to her, an offering of sorts.

Dev stared at his outstretched palm, not quite sure how to react.

"I thought you hated me," she responded flatly to his gesture.

Wyatt shook his head.

"Those were your words, remember? Not mine," he responded.

"You certainly acted the part," she retorted.

"So did you, if we're going to stand here, comparing notes. And for the record, that was self-preservation, not hate," he explained, "I could never hate you."

"You should," she replied.

"Is this your version of an apology?" he asked with a laugh.

Dev didn't respond so Wyatt offered her his hand again, hoping this time she would take it.

“I don’t bite,” Wyatt promised. “Come on.”

“Can’t you just leave me alone?” she asked.

“No,” he shook his head, “I can’t.”

“Why not?” she pouted.

“Are you going to come with me or not?” Wyatt pointedly ignored her question.

“Where are we going?” she finally relented.

“Just take my hand,” he insisted.

Dev still refused to move towards him.

“It’s two in the morning,” she replied.

“Come on,” Wyatt offered his hand again, “let’s go.”

She hesitated.

“I don’t have my blades,” she explained.

“So go get them.”

Dev stared at Wyatt for a minute, then hurried inside to get her knives, strapped them around her hips and rejoined him at the door.

“Hold my hand,” he insisted, then added a bit nervously, “if you want to.”

Dev interlaced her fingers with his and shuddered, the feel of his skin against hers was like a jolt of electricity. Wyatt raised their hands and kissed hers, letting his lips linger for an extra second against her skin, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“Ready?” he asked.

She nodded and he led the way, opening random doors and leading them down hidden hallways in the Academy. Dev tried remembering which way he was taking her but after a few minutes, everything started to feel very repetitive and she finally just gave in and allowed herself to be pulled along. Wyatt felt her relax and glanced back at her, happy to see Dev exploring her surroundings instead of trying to memorize his every move.

They finally came to a stop in front of an ancient, wooden door that seemed completely out of place, with its ornate detail and craftsmanship, but Dev knew it right away and inhaled sharply.

She touched the door with her fingertips, feeling the carvings in the wood, knowing all of them by heart, finding her favorite one.

“Ganesha,” she whispered.

“You recognize this door?” Wyatt asked.

Dev turned to him and finally smiled.

“I do,” she replied, “very well, in fact. It’s the same as the front door of the house where I was raised. My parents always said if I ever found another one like it, I could be certain I was in a safe place.”

She laughed lightly as she continued examining the door with her fingertips.

“Of course, I always thought that was nothing but a bunch of Magical nonsense. I suppose I was wrong.”

Wyatt watched her studying the door, tracing the patterns cut into the wood, unlocking some memory bank deep inside her. She seemed pleased, comforted almost.

“Shall we?” he finally asked.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked him, suddenly wondering whether she should leave the confines of the Academy.

Wyatt didn’t bother answering her, he simply opened the door and pulled her onto an empty Manhattan subway platform. No one noticed them arrive and if they did, they were probably too drunk to care.

“Oh my!” Dev exclaimed excitedly.

“Cool trick, huh?” Wyatt laughed as they headed for the stairs to street level.

They came out of the station at Houston and Second Avenue, surrounded by cars, people and noise. Even at such a late hour, the city still buzzed with energy.

“Come on,” Wyatt called to Dev, “this way.”

They walked east on Houston, then turned down Eldridge, coming to a stop in front of a small establishment called Augie’s. As they stood outside, a few people exited and Dev heard the music thumping from the speakers. It was the medicine she needed; any of her earlier hesitation disappeared, lost in the beat.

She gripped Wyatt’s hand tighter, excited for the first time in a while.

“Who knew you dance,” she looked up at him, her eyes full of surprise.

He laughed.

“One of the many things you don’t know about me,” he replied before turning to chat with the guy at the door and head inside.

If the place looked small from the street, it was even tinier once you walked inside. There was a couch along the left wall, a few ill-placed, random tables, a bar on the right and bodies in motion everywhere you looked. The music was pumping and if there was room to dance, people were using it. Guys were pressed against girls pressed against other girls pressed against other guys and the whole room moved to the beat banging from the deejay booth.

Dev felt right at home and without thinking, started weaving through the crowd, pulling Wyatt along, making room for them in the sweaty, sticky sea of humanity. Wyatt put his arms around her and pulled her back to him.

“I’m going to get a drink,” he yelled over the music.

Dev turned around and grabbed his hands, wrapping him around her as she wove her arms around his neck and moved to the music.

“No, you’re not,” she yelled with a gleam in her eye, “you are staying right here and dancing with me.”

Two hours later, as the lights came up and the deejay yelled at folks to go home, they exited the club, sweaty and happy.

Wyatt watched Dev as she smiled at some girls wobbling down the street on their too-tall heels, trying to pull down their teeny skirts and all the while, maintain an air of dignity. She laughed quietly, amused by their futile effort and then turned and smiled up at him.

“I’m starving,” she moaned.

“Me, too,” Wyatt agreed, “I know a spot. Let’s go.”

He took her hand and led the way up Second Avenue to a diner where he had eaten more meals than he cared to count, but one that guaranteed good coffee and food anytime of the night.

"Now you're just showing off," she laughed as she slid into a booth.

Wyatt took off his jacket and slid in across from her.

"Three year-olds know this place," he noted as he passed her a menu, "this is hardly showing off."

"Don't you want to look?" she offered her menu to him.

Wyatt waved her off.

"I've been getting the same thing for years."

Dev leaned back against the booth and smiled.

"Why does that not surprise me in the least?"

"I'm not even going to ask what you mean by that," he replied.

"Good. Don’t," she laughed, "just sit tight and let me concentrate on this menu. There are too many options. It's a bit overwhelming."

Wyatt pointed to the breakfast side of the menu.

"Stick with those."

Dev glanced up and down the list and finally settling on her order, leaned back against her booth and relaxed.

"Clayworth," the waiter called from behind the bar, "same old?"

"Yessir," Wyatt replied, "and she'll have..."

"Blueberry pancakes and a cup of coffee, thank you," Dev called out.

"Jesus, Clayworth, you force all your girlfriends to eat like you?"

"Shut up, Johnny," Wyatt laughed, then added, "and she's not my girlfriend."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Johnny muttered as he walked back into the kitchen.

"He's known Ryker and me forever," Wyatt explained to Dev, "and goes out of his way to embarrass us whenever the chance presents itself."

Dev listened to Wyatt all the while scanning the diner, searching, wondering. Wyatt watched her eyes dart around to the few patrons seated nearby, none of whom paid them any mind.

“Dev,” Wyatt kicked her foot under the table, “stop.”

“Stop what?” she whispered.

Wyatt leaned back and stared at her as she continued analyzing the room.

“That right there,” he pointed at her, “investigating each person in here. Stop it.”

Dev put her hands around her coffee cup and took a sip, calming her sudden case of nerves.

“I’m sorry,” she smiled into her coffee cup.

“Don’t be sorry,” Wyatt leaned forward and sipped his coffee, his face near hers, “just relax. I know what I’m doing. Trust me. No one is paying a bit of attention to us.”

He kicked her foot again and smiled. She studied him for a moment, his dark hair and bright eyes, his lips, his hands. She pressed her leg against his under the table.

“Don’t do that either,” he whispered.

Dev cocked her head to the side and laughed, her eyes full of mirth.

“So you’re a blueberry pancakes kind of guy?” she asked, helpfully changing the subject so Wyatt could focus on something besides her.

“I am a pancakes guy,” Wyatt clarified, thankful to think about anything besides Dev’s legs pressed up against his. “But when I’m here, I always get them with blueberries. I started ordering them that way when I was studying for my first set of practical exams. I ate here almost every morning before study group so when I passed with the highest marks in my class, I decided I should stick with them.”

“And you’re superstitious?” she laughed.

“Of course, I am,” Wyatt smacked the table for emphasis. “You’re not?”

“No, I’m not. At all. How can you possibly be superstitious? You of all people. You know the ways of humans and Magicals. There’s nothing left to wonder.”

Johnny set their food down on the table with a grumble and went back into the kitchen.

“You are so wrong,” Wyatt insisted, shaking his head at her as he buttered his pancakes and smothered them in syrup. “There’s wonder everywhere. I think my presence in both worlds only increases my superstitious nature because I do know what’s around us.”

“All I’m wondering right now is whether you left me any syrup,” Dev joked as she studied his plate, “you are positively disgusting.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “I am. Don’t watch me.”

“I can’t help it, I’m riveted.”

Wyatt looked up from his plate with a wicked grin on his face.

“You don’t have to make excuses for staring at me. I know you think I’m sexy.”

“Well, how could I not, especially now that I know you’ve got a secret passion for all things syrupy. Imagine the trouble that could get you into...,” Dev allowed her voice to trail off suggestively, leaving open a world of options for Wyatt to ponder.

“Don’t do that either, Dev,” Wyatt set down his fork and stared at her.

“Sorry,” she grinned.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“No, I’m not,” she laughed as she dug into her food.

“Yes, you are.”

“I’ve been a bad, bad girl,” she leaned back and sang low, “I’ve been careless with a delicate man.”
³

“I’m not delicate,” Wyatt noted as he finished his food, “but you are bad.”

“Only with you,” Dev replied quietly before focusing intently on her meal.

Wyatt leaned back and watched her, studied her. Dev felt him staring and smiled. She looked up and met his eyes, neither of them speaking, neither needing to. She finally broke the silence.

“Can we walk home? All the way? Not through the subway station?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” Wyatt stood up and put on his jacket.

Dev slid out of the booth and headed for the door, waiting outside for Wyatt as he paid their bill. He joined her outside on the sidewalk, listening to the city wake up, exhausted but so very happy. Dev caught him smiling and laced her fingers through his, surprising Wyatt with her touch.

“Thank you, Wyatt Clayworth,” she whispered as she pulled him close, “for making me forget everything for a few hours.”

Wyatt pushed her curls off her face and ran his finger down her cheek and along her neck, listening to her breath catch, loving the feel of her skin, wanting nothing more than to kiss her, right there in the middle of the sidewalk.

But he didn’t.

Instead he unwound himself from around her and offered his hand, which she took with no hesitation and they walked home, each wrapped in their own thoughts but comforted by the nearness of the other. At the front door of The Academy, Wyatt paused for a moment, not wanting their night to end, knowing it could not go on forever. At some point they had to return to reality and deal with the circumstances of their young lives.

Dev understood.

She felt the same. She did not want the night to end either.

But that wasn’t real so she did what Wyatt could not and lifted his hand to touch the door, then stepped back and watched it swing open, welcoming them inside. Wyatt didn’t say a word, he just held her hand and headed for their wing, an impenetrable silence enveloping him. He stopped outside her door and finally looked at her, his expression one of profound sadness.

“I’m so sorry we had to come back here,” he whispered.

Dev caressed his cheek and smiled sadly.

“So am I,” she replied as she unlocked her door and walked inside. She set her keys down on the side table, unholstered her blades and let down her hair. Wyatt watched Dev intently, studying the fluidity of her movements, mesmerized all over again by her grace and beauty.