Dust (Of Dust and Darkness) (31 page)

             
“I managed to trap a chipmunk and a fox,” he says as he opens the satchel containing my dinner. “The good news is that I was able to stretch both in size a bit.”

             
“What’s the bad news?” I urge, fearful of what happened to them. And what exactly is considered bad? Bad like its limbs were different lengths? Bad like its fur caught on fire? What? I
’m
nervous and he
isn’t
responding quickly enough, taking his sweet time pulling things out for me to eat: bread, a mixture of nuts, a good chunk of banana.

             
“I wouldn’t really say bad news.”
Then what would you say? Come on already!
“Both of them stretched, but it was only temporary. Eventually the magic wore off and they reduced back to size.”

             
My eyes squint, trying to determine if this should even be considered bad. “Is that it? That’s the only thing that happened to them? It wore off?”

             
“Yeah,” he states nonchalantly, as if this wasn’t the best news ever. He sits and pats the ground beside him. “Rosalie, sit. You need to rest from here on out.”

             
I obediently sit and begin gnawing on the nuts like a squirrel. I’m sure it’s not attractive to watch, but I’m focusing hard on Jack’s experiment. The fox is larger in size than either of us, but I don’t really know how much our systems differ. The same goes for the chipmunk.

             
“How long did the magic last?”

             
“The fox, not very long. Maybe an hour. The chipmunk held out a few more hours. The spider, however, was still big today.”

             
“
So is the magic fading faster
‘
cause they’re bigger o
r
‘
cause they’re more complex?”

             
“No idea.” I turn to glare at him, my eyes exuding something fierce. “What?” he exclaims. “I’m not trying to be a jerk. Your guess is as good as mine.”

             
I release my evil eyes and return to my nuts. I sigh as I munch on the few in my mouth. “So basically
”
–
crunch, crunch
–
“
if we’re lucky
”
–
crunch, crunch
–
“
any dust used on me is going to wear off anywhere between the spider and chipmunk. So a few hours to…”

             
“A few days probably. At least one and a half so far.”

             
“Is that enough time to get me far enough away from the spriggans and faeries?”

             
“Should be.”

             
“Well, all right then. Guess I’m getting dusted.” I drop the bag of nuts and decide to comfort myself with melt-on-my-tongue bread.

             
“You’re taking this pretty well, Rosalie.” I hear the contradiction in his voice.

             
I laugh, a little wickedly too, and shake my head. “No,
Jack.
I’m not. It completely terrifies me. I’m just doing my best not to focus on it anymore. It is what it is and it’s what I need to do to get out of here. So I’ll do it. But I should warn you
,
I’ll probably pee myself when you do it.”

             
He laughs and extends his arm over my shoulders, rubbing the farthest one, trying to comfort me. And I hate myself for enjoying it. Because I have to let him go. I should be strong and shrug him off me, but I figure reality’s going to slap me hard enough in the face tomorrow anyway. This time tomorrow I’ll be on my own and I’ll never be able to feel his touch again. So what’s the point of denying myself the pleasure of it today?

             
“What time is it?” I ask, popping another bite of bread into my mouth.

             
“I’d say around six in the evening. And I hate to leave you, but you need to rest as well as you can, and I need to get everything together that you’ll need. I didn’t dare pack a bag before now. I was afraid someone would find it and start asking questions.
Lately Starla’s been particularly interested in my increased appetite.
”

             
I nod my head slowly, eyes straight ahead. We’re getting pretty close to it now, and the numbness I’ve been feeling off and on is really spreading throughout my body. Like my insides are fighting the idea of me escaping and leaving Jack behind. Tomorrow I’ll have to dig deep to find the courage to fight it off. Because I don’t want to leave Jack. I don’t know how to move forward in a world without him. These past couple of weeks he’s been everything to me.

             
“Are you sure you want to do this tomorrow?” I ask, wishing him to say no.

             
It takes him several seconds to reply, “Yeah, Rosalie. You’ve got to get out of here before something worse happens. If something happened to you…”

             
When he doesn’t continue, my head automatically turns his way. I guess my movement draws his,
be
cause the next thing I know, I’m looking up and he’s looking down, and our eyes lock tight. When he finally moves towards me, my heart panics and my beats triple, and my breath catches in my chest. His lips are ever so close and moving towards me...but they stop short, and I feel a warmth against my forehead that I desperately want on my lips. My eyes close, regardless, as I try to soak in this moment with as much clarity as I possibly can. The heat of his touch, the slight movement of his lips as they tenderly brush my skin, the way his hand now splays against the back of my
neck, and the way his body arc
s toward mine.

             
My insides gasp in pain when he pulls away, shouting
NO!
in so many creative ways. Parts of my body are wrenching in pain that I didn’t even know existed, piercing me deep into my core. Our eyes open; mine before his – I didn’t even know he had done the same. There’s pain in his eyes, and I have the feeling mine are conveying the same message. For one split second, there’s hope that he’s feeling what I am, and that he’ll give in and bring his lips down to mine. But the next, he’s leaning farther away and getting to his feet, preparing to leave. Quietly, he says, “I’ll see you around two, Rosalie. Sleep well.”

             
It pains me to watch him fly away in this moment and not spend our last night together, holding me close.  And I’m sure he meant for that to be a heartfelt farewell kiss, but after the fact, it feels more like the kiss of death.

I did it. I actually fell asleep. It seems like it took forever, but here I am
,
stirring out of sleep, Jack gently shaking my arm, saying my name softly until my eyes open. His lips softly curve upward as I rotate my head to look up at him. Instead of trying to pull me from my slumber, he joins me on the horrible ground. He shifts, squiggling around for a bit, trying to get comfortable. We lay silently for a few minutes, exchanging smiles.

             
Hating for my curiosity to break the moment, I whisper, “What time is it?”

             
“About one-thirty. I watched the spriggans’ campsite for a bit before coming in. They’re all knocked out for the
night
. Course it probably helped that I put a hint of lavender in their communal watering hole yesterday,” he adds with a wicked
ly cute
smile.

             
“Then I guess they’re the only ones that got decent sleep tonight. Did you even go to bed?”

             
“No. I just couldn’t keep my mind from going over every little detail.” He releases a long, heavy sigh, but his eyes continue to bore hard into mine. “I hate to lose you, Rosalie, but I have to get you out of here.”

             
I don’t even fight the tears that drip from my eyes, or the steady stream that follows. Wet and blurry as they are, I can tell his eyes are moist too. If tears are welling up behind his, he’s managing to restrict their flow. My eyes shut tight, and I squeeze the excess moisture out, and take a long, deep breath to calm the desolation within.

             
“Come on,” he mournfully says, already standing before I even get around to opening my eyes. He extends his hand and I offer mine, letting him pull me to my feet. My eyes close when his thumbs begin sweeping the tears from my face. “Don’t cry, Rosalie. This is hard enough
for
me.”

             
I huff. Somehow I doubt that, but it comforts me knowing I may not be alone with these twisted, confusing, heart-wrenching feelings inside.
             

             
He kneels and unzips a large bag. His arm disappears inside and eventually pulls out a dress. If it’s cute, I don’t know,
be
cause I think I’ve finally reached my breaking point. I think I’m trying to shut down. All emotion seems to be fleeing
;
m
y body stands
there lifeless, unable to mentally process the soft cotton he’s placing within my
grasp
. Somehow I manage to
clamp my fingers around
it, though how my brain actually manages to relay that message to my hand is beyond me. I hear a soft
thump
on the floor, but my eyes don’t bother to look.

             
“That dress will fit you in a minute. When the magic wears off, there are smaller clothes in the bag. I did the best I could with Starla’s old wardrobe. I chose tops and skirts that you have to tie, so hopefully they’ll fit you okay.” I nod, but only a centimeter or two in each direction. I feel sleepy, like I’m caught in a daze I don’t want to break free from. Jack pulls out a small pull-string bag made of black velvet and a blue silk cord. I know what’s inside. Something I haven’t seen since before I was stolen: pixie dust. He unties the knot and loosens the cord just enough for his hand to disappear into the black hole. His hand emerges with a pinch of silv
ery dust between his fingertips. He rubs his fingers together and the flecks float freely in the air,
twinkling as they
dance and tumble their way back into their protective velvet
.

             
My hand suddenly jerks and grasps his wrist, setting free a few more flecks of the diamond dust. His eyes widen, probably afraid I’m backing out of his carefully thought out plan. There’s fear in my eyes and I’m not afraid to express it. “That wasn’t made with the mushroom powder we make here, is it?” My heart pounds at the fear of having that sprinkled over me, knowing full well it’ll produce repercussions.

             
He shakes his head. “No. This is from my mother’s stash. Healers are always allotted top grade dust, so this is the best of the best.” I nod and release my grip, my head tipping forward. “Moment of truth. You ready?”

             
“No,” I bla
bber, my voice cracking.

             
“Hey.” He says it with such
certainty
my head shifts up, but my eyes immediately run away. “Where’s that pixie I first met? That defiant one? The one that refused to be demoted to a number? The one that kept screaming and demanding we call her Rosalie? The one I…” he trails off. I look back and meet his gaze, his mossy green eyes saddened. His eyes are twitching back and forth, like he’s reading something in his mind, deciding how
to
best proceed.

             
“The one you what?” I whisper, my tiptoes readying to lift, longing for him to bend down and bring his lips to mine. My heart begs,
the one he fell in love with?

             
His jaw unhinges and his mouth hangs open a bit. After several awkward seconds, his body snaps and his mouth recloses. “Regardless, that’s the pixie that has to leave here tonight. That’s the pixie that’s going to survive and find her way home.”