Infatuate (32 page)

“I’m impressed you found your way in the other night, even though I wish you hadn’t. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I was just . . . caught off-guard. I mean, I didn’t realize this place had become a hangout. I thought you said the others didn’t come here. Should we be expecting company now?” I didn’t want to sound afraid, but I also didn’t care for surprises like that.

“I’m sorry.” Lucian shook his head, regretfully. “I don’t know what he was doing here. They usually prefer being out where the action is. We’ll keep our meetings short. And watch out for that guy, okay? He’s a problem.” I wondered what constituted a “problem” when you were already a native of the underworld, but I only nodded. “So, come ’ere.” He gestured for me to join him on the stairs. I took a seat beside him, his gray eyes glowing in the near darkness, his familiar cedar scent making me a little woozy. “I don’t have much time,” he said, looking apologetic. “There’s a meeting tonight. They’re starting to assemble for Metamorfosi Day, the day of metamorphosis.” He waited before going on, bestowing an extra importance to it.

“That sounds like a pretty big deal.”

“It is. They’re going to designate when it will be and then that’ll be the time when you will all sort out and battle to determine who, of those of you in training, become angels and who become devils. This is also the one day when those of us who are consigned to our fates”—he put his hand to his chest, including himself in this group—“can sort of change our stripes, so to speak.” He said it shyly, as if he were embarrassed.

I let this sink in and then offered gently, “Oh. So this is your chance then? To break away?”

“It is. So that’s when I’ll be needing some help, if you’ll be kind enough . . .”

“Of course,” I said firmly.

“Thank you,” he said looking at me for only a moment and then focusing in the distance, breathing a sigh. “Thank you. You have no idea . . .” He didn’t finish, but he didn’t have to.

“You’ll just tell me what I can do and I’ll do it.”

“I’ll know a little more after tonight, but the first thing will be to ensure you make it through your own battle. After that we’ll worry about me.”

“So I’ll have to go against Clio and the Krewe,” I guessed.

“No, actually.” He must’ve read the surprise as it swept my face. “I know,” he said. “You’ll be battling someone who is your equal and has fallen to my side. A devil in training. The Krewe, Clio, that whole set, their work is being done now, trying to make the final conversions, grabbing whoever they can. They’ll be helping whoever your nemesis will be, but they’ll mostly be kind of sitting back and watching the mayhem play out.”

“Okay, so then who am I up against?”

“We don’t know yet. We won’t know until everyone has been tagged and has sorted out into sides. I’m assuming that I’ll find out and be able to tip you off. But they’re still wary of me, and there’s a lot that goes on that I’m just not included in.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. It’s been hard to walk this line, trying to learn as much as I can without anyone knowing that I’ve found this way to see you.”

“I know what you mean.” I felt bonded to Lucian by this secrecy, both of us protecting each other by keeping quiet.

He looked like he was thinking and then, in a heavier tone: “I hope you don’t think that . . . I mean, with Wylie. I hope you don’t think I meant for that to happen, for him to find you, for him to be here instead of me. I promise it was just terrible timing and I should’ve found a way to warn you. It never would have occurred to me that you would have gotten in even with the door locked.”

“Yeah, I guess I should learn to take a hint. It was a little pushy of me.”

“I don’t mind pushy.” He smiled. “I just regret that that happened. Truly. I’m not stupid. I know you’re looking for reasons to not trust me and I can’t say I blame you, but I promise I didn’t know he was going to be here,” he said, the pleading clear in his voice. “And I hope you believe me.”

“I do,” I said simply and it was true. Right now, it was true.

“But what I really wanted to tell you is just keep strong, Haven. They will attack you with greater force than any of the others— don’t let them wear you down. Know that you can fight them. You can.” A deep gong sounded at the top of the stairs from a grandfather clock that had been added since I had last been here. We both looked up toward it. He sighed.

“I have to go.” He shook his head, angry, then almost to himself he said, “If they notice I’m gone . . .” Instead of finishing his thought, he lunged, his lips landing on mine. I had wondered if this would happen again, or if it had been a fluke the last time, just an inevitability when you put two people with a history in a dark, empty room after midnight. “I have to go,” he whispered again, still so close to me that I could feel his lips move when he spoke. “I don’t want to, but I have to.”

I nodded, making no other motion beyond that for a few seconds. And then, not wanting to overstay my welcome either, I got up to go. He grabbed my hand just before it was out of reach.

“I’ll see you soon. I promise,” he whispered. “Depending on the preparations that start tonight, I may be away a little while. I’ll keep leaving you notes, okay?”

With that I drifted back outside, the chilly air slapping at my face, waking me up as I walked home.

I peeked in the front door, no sign of anyone to catch me, and I let myself in as quietly as possible, hustling to my room. I found him standing there, pounding on my door.

“Hey, what’s up?” I said trying not to sound as guilty as I felt.

Lance turned around. He was sweating, with skittish, squirrelly eyes. “I was there,” he started. I unlocked the door and he followed me in.

“What? Where?”

He paced, holding his head in his hands. “I was there for the partying, for the excitement and the fun and then the rest of it. I don’t know if I did it . . . oh god, oh god, oh god . . . Tell me I didn’t, but I was there. I saw those bodies. I saw those people killed. I saw them take what they wanted from them. I was there, and then I ran away with them. I was there that whole night. I saw it all. And I felt
good
afterward. How did I feel good after that? What’s wrong with me? What kind of monster must I be?”

I just watched him, searching for a clue into what he was talking about. It made no sense. He was panting now. “How did this even happen? Why me? What did I
do?
” He ran both hands through his hair then squeezed his head as though trying to stifle all these cascading, mad thoughts. He stopped pacing, dropped his hands at his sides, and looked at me, expecting me to have answers. But I had nothing. I took both of his arms and gently walked him backwards to Sabine’s bed, sitting him down and taking a seat beside him.

“What are you talking about, Lance?”

He took a deep breath now, closing his eyes, then looked at me squarely. “That night I showed up in here? With that thing on my arm? Seeming drunk and out of it? I had been with them. I was with the Krewe.”

I shook my head. “But how do you know that? You couldn’t remember anything. How can you be so sure?”

“I don’t know, I just am. I can’t explain it but I fell asleep reading just now and I had these dreams that weren’t dreams. And I felt the same way I had that night—that rush and that excitement, except this time, that feeling came with all these other images. Remember the bodies that turned up the next day?” I nodded. “I could picture all of it like I was there when it happened. And I know that I was. I also know that there was other stuff, too. I thought Sabine was there too, but it’s weird. The image started as Sabine and then I saw this sort of hazy silhouette that I can’t describe. It’s like a blank spot even in this dream, except I know it was her.” He grabbed my arm now, squeezing so tight. “Tell me I didn’t do this stuff, that I’m wrong. What happened to me? Why did I think, at the time, that this felt like the most exciting night of my life? Because it did. And that terrifies me.”

I let his words and descriptions tally up in my mind and then the connections started to make sense, linking it all to the kinds of things I’d already heard. “What happened to me?” he asked again.

“You got tagged,” I said simply, studying his eyes. Confusion swept his face and he looked away, as though trying to understand. “They’re trying to draft us, to steal our souls by getting us, I don’t know, infatuated with this feeling of what life is like as one of them. That’s the rush you felt. But if we fight it off then we’ve won and we get to continue on . . . as us, as angels. You made it through, Lance. You fought it and you’re fine.”

“But I can’t stop seeing these images. I can’t make them stop. And I can’t live with myself if I did some of this stuff. Did I?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really know how it works.” I felt like a fraud trying to talk him through it all when I hadn’t been tagged myself yet.

I grabbed his hand and pushed his sleeve all the way up to his shoulder in one quick movement. “But do you see? That marking is gone. And if you looked at my pictures right now, you would look perfect.”

“Well, it’s little consolation unless I can find out what really happened.” I could understand that. He trudged back to his room, slamming his door shut.

26. You Only Live Once

Lance had been especially aloof since the night he had those dreams. Connor had instructed us to levitate him, just to be safe and thorough. And then the others, too: River, Tom, Drew. They had all gotten tagged and we tended to them. Each incident was unique; one might barely be affected and find that marking disappearing quickly, while another would have been lost if not for the group performing its soul extraction. And then, regrettably, there was Brody, who simply failed to come home from the hotline one night and was never seen again. Gone. He and Drew had both gotten tagged that evening, but she had turned up in the courtyard and we got to her fast. That made all the difference.

Physically, Lance appeared fine now, but that was only half of the story. Despite spending more time together working, we were talking less than ever. It was frustrating. He had cut himself off and it hurt. My reflex, for better or worse, had been to fixate on Lucian as an escape. I found myself replaying our most recent encounter over and over like it was a song I couldn’t get enough of. Even so, I kept trying with Lance and managed to convince him to come along for Max’s birthday celebration—the whole house was going. Max happened to be universally adored and, besides, we all needed to rally around something
normal
amid the madness for a few short hours.

We crowded around weathered wooden tables and benches at a down-home Cajun hot spot Dante had suggested. Tulane pennants hung on the wall, a brass band played at the back, and the tables were littered with vats of barbecued foods, sinful side dishes, and plenty of fried fare served family style. The hurricanes—virgin, for us—arrived by the pitcherful. And best of all: the restaurant wasn’t anywhere we had ever spotted the Krewe.

When we had finished feasting and settled the bill, a cake was brought out—a surprise orchestrated by Dante, which made Max blush—and the group sang “Happy Birthday,” as a few of our neighboring tables looked on smiling and clapping.

We had just dug into our cake when the music stopped.

“Is there a Dante here?” a rich bass voice boomed into the microphone. “A Dante Dennis, by chance?” Dante’s eyes bugged as Max stood up, pointing at Dante beside him.

“What? It’s not
my
birthday!” Dante laughed, smacking him on the arm. He was so used to being the party planner that to see him on the receiving end of such celebration made me smile.

“No, but it’s mine and you’re my favorite birthday present.” Max said it matter-of-factly, not saccharine at all, as if this were an everyday occurrence and people always professed their love with a brass band. I looked at Lance from the corner of my eye and couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing. He smiled as we all cheered and whooped for Dante and Max, but I could tell his mind was far away. “By the way,” Max went on, “this is for you.” He handed over a simple blue gift bag. Dante looked confused but took it and peeked inside.

“You’re kidding me,” he said, without even pulling anything out.

“What is it?” I had to ask, leaning to peer into the bag.

Dante reached in and pulled out the gris-gris bag he had made and stashed among Max’s possessions, which Max had apparently discovered, and a voodoo doll made to look like Dante. “Dude, you did a good job on this!” He held the doll, which was the size of his hand, up beside his face.

“It’s cute, Dan!” I smiled.

The trombone player quickly drowned me out, launching the band into the first few notes of “Happy Birthday,” then instantly morphed into a spirited “When the Saints Go Marching In.” And march they did, right over to our table. One of the restaurant hosts placed plastic crowns on Dante’s and Max’s heads and made them stand up; our waiter stepped out waving two green parasols in the air and handed them to the guys. The whole place clapped along, and suddenly everyone at our table was on their feet.

“C’mon!” Connor gestured with a huge wave. “It’s a second line!”

“What?” I asked, over the music.

“That’s what they call it. Ya gotta follow! C’mon!”

Lance looked like he had no intention of going anywhere, but I waved him along. “Gotta follow!” I repeated, tugging on his arm. Led by the band, we all filed out of the restaurant, along with many of the other patrons, and right into the street. As the music blared, everyone in our general vicinity paused to take note of our celebration and several joined in.

“I can’t believe you did all this!” I shouted my praise to Max.

“You only live once!” Max called back with a smile. Dante grabbed his hand, waving it in the air. In their other hands, they bobbed the parasols up and down to the rhythm. We danced along the streets, trailing the brass quintet and picking up more and more revelers as we went. Somehow, as the crowd surged forward, I ended up toward the back of the pack. The group grew so large, with so much jostling and elbowing, that Dante, Lance, and I got separated, like three pieces of driftwood carried off by a river’s current. There was something energizing about being caught in the upheaval and good times. I decided to just soak it all in, the joyfulness, the thrill of this impromptu street party. I couldn’t help but smile.