Sing Sweet Nightingale (29 page)

The rest of the stones I ordered from Dawn have finally arrived, so after school, K.T. and I take Mariella down to Stone’s Throw. K.T. has been down there to pick up some books on stones, but from the way Mari’s head tilts as she examines the storefront, I don’t think she knew it existed. If she’s been here before, she definitely doesn’t remember it.

The wind chimes tied to the door tinkle as we walk in, but the store looks empty. Until Dawn’s head pops up from behind a low shelf like a meerkat peeking out of her burrow.

“Is that you, Hudson? Of course it is. I don’t know anyone else so big.” Dawn scrambles over a low bookcase and stops short in front of me, a huge smile on her face. “You, sir, have been very good for business.”

“I’m going to be even better for business before I leave today.”

“
C’est magnifique
!” She dances in a quick circle and then dashes off to the counter. “Let me show you what we got in today. I have some new jewelry pieces, too.”

I trail behind her, checking the shelves I pass for anything that might prove useful. “I know I’ve said this before, but you really don’t act like you’re fourteen.”

Dawn ducks behind the counter and starts gently placing geodes and statues on top. “Yeah, well, neither do you.”

“I’m
not
fourteen.”

“And I am. Your point?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, my head spinning a little. “I seem to have lost it. What’s
your
point?”

“What’s age got to do with it?”

I smile and step closer to look over everything. “Nothing, I guess. Just like height.”

She places the last of the stones on the counter and grins at me. “See? I knew you had brains in there somewhere.”

Mariella is following K.T. around with wide eyes. I can’t be sure, but I think the single thing keeping her demon from reaching out and wiping her mind again is the fact that she’s been surrounded by crystals and gemstones all day. And there are more here. If I can keep her memory intact long enough to convince her to listen to me…

So far, so good, but I don’t want to get my hopes too high. If I’ve learned anything from dealing with this demon of hers, it’s that half the things I thought I knew about them and half the rules I thought they had to follow are wrong. Underestimating him now might be deadly.

I shake my head and focus more on the stones in front of me, touching them one by one. They respond well. Usually I don’t sense a thing from new stones. When I place a hand on these, I can hear their energy ringing in my head—a low, soft chime in the background.

“Did you cleanse everything already?” I ask Dawn.

She cocks her head to the side and smiles, her short brown hair swinging. “Thought you might notice that. You’re not an average collector. They sell better if they’re not already tuned to someone. Even the ones you don’t take will find better homes this way.”

I continue my inspection, picking up each stone. Dawn has good taste. Or her suppliers do. These are all high-quality pieces.

“What’s up with your friend?” Dawn asks after a few minutes. I doubt she’s asking about K.T. I follow Dawn’s stare and wonder how much she can see from this far away. Mari is standing in front of the store’s nearly empty stone display and listening as K.T. points out the different types of stone.

“Her name is Mariella.”

“I don’t usually get a read on people unless they’re giving off some pretty strong vibes, but wow. That girl needs an aura cleansing
fast
.”

“Yeah. I know.” I look away from Mari, forcing myself to focus on the selection Dawn has laid out in front of me. “It’s a work in progress. There are extenuating circumstances.”

Dawn switches her penetrating brown eyes to me. “Like demon fairies visiting her dreams?”

I freeze with my hand on a pair of amethyst earrings. Almost forgot I told Dawn about the demons. After what happened to K.T., I don’t think I did Dawn any favors by letting her in on that little secret. It’s like knowing they exist makes you more of a target.

“I shouldn’t have told you about them. They’re not anyone you ever want to meet, Dawn.”

“But the gemstones protect you, right? That’s why you’re stockpiling?”

Nodding slowly, I keep my eyes locked on her face to make sure she’s taking this seriously. Dawn seems to take every word to heart.

“Our house is attached to the back of the store.” She points to a door I thought led to a storage closet. “I’ll load myself up with crystals before I go to sleep every night.”

“Make sure you do.” I look back over the collection on the counter and make a decision. “I’ll take all of it.”

Dawn’s jaw drops, but only for a second. She starts packing the stones up, shaking her head as she does. “One of these days, you’re going to walk in here and announce you’re buying the store itself.”

I laugh. Horace would
love
to add a New Age store to his list of properties, I’m sure.

“Almost ready?” K.T. asks, coming up to the counter.

Mariella steps up next to her and leans over the counter, staring at the stones. Her eyes lock on a piece of tumbled amethyst, oddly shaped but smooth, and shifting through at least eight shades of purple. It’s a pretty rock, but there are others on the counter that are prettier. What is pulling her toward this one?

When she picks it up, I finally notice something I’ve missed all day.

She’s using her right hand.

It’s bruised as hell—in fact, it looks worse than before—but she’s using it like there’s nothing wrong. Like it doesn’t hurt and the bruises aren’t there.

Mari takes the amethyst and walks away, practically claiming it for her own.

As I pay, I can’t help wondering what kind of game her demon is playing. Does he know what we’re trying to do? Who am I kidding? Of course he does.

So I guess the real question is, what is he planning to do about it? And do I stand a snowball’s chance of surviving it?

Mariella opens her bedroom door, and I almost scream. The light pouring out of that room is blinding, burning. It’s like staring through the gates of Hell, but the air coming out of the room is so cold I could convince myself I’ve walked into Antarctica without a jacket.

K.T. steps inside without a thought, but I can’t. Pulling a filter over my eyes to block out the worst of the glow barely helps. My hands are shaking, and my heart is beating so fast I can’t feel it anymore.

“Coming?” K.T. asks, her forehead creased as she looks back at me.

“It’s, uh…it’s really nice outside. Can we work out there?” I step into the room, take Mari’s hand, and pull her back out again. This close to the epicenter of her demon’s influence, the chill hits me harder, and I shudder. It reminds me of walking into Calease’s world that last night. Worse, actually. It’s already colder than that. I’m so cold I barely notice how icy Mari’s skin is against mine.

“You don’t mind, right?” I ask as I pull her out of the room.

“Computer?” she signs, glancing over her shoulder at her room.

“We’re planning tonight,” K.T. says as she brings up the rear. “We’ll be fine.”

I should probably let go of Mari’s hand now, but instead I hold it a little tighter. She doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t tighten her grip either. She trusts me because I’ve proven I know her and I’ve helped her fill in some of the blanks in her memory, but I don’t think that trust goes very far. If I push it, she won’t listen to a thing I say.

When I look at Mari now, it’s like I see her in layers—the burning blonde with the ribbon over her mouth, the princess tearing apart a screwed-up tea party, the goddess wrapped in burning chains, and the girl who is somehow all those things yet isn’t aware of it. Who doesn’t even see the cliff she’s running toward at full speed.

I just hope I can keep her from going over the edge.

Twenty-Eight

Mariella

Friday, September 5 – 4:14 PM

For a project that seemed crucial at school, K.T. and Hudson aren’t too concerned about it now. We’ve barely made any progress this afternoon—reminding me why I hate group projects so much—but then they stayed for dinner, too. It’s like now they’ve gotten into my house, neither is inclined to leave.

After dinner, my parents and Hudson’s grandfather, Horace, retreat into my father’s office to finalize contracts and a schedule for inspections on some restoration project they’re working on. K.T., Hudson, and I head upstairs. Like earlier, Hudson stops short at the door to my bedroom and shudders, his eyes closing and his entire face tightening.

K.T. notices, but she bites her lip and takes his hand, pulling him across the threshold. “It’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that,” Hudson grumbles, shuddering again when he steps inside. The convulsions are so sharp, it looks like someone is poking him with a high-powered stun gun. He was fine before. There’s nothing in this room that would do this to him. I mean, the light from Orane’s gifts is brighter than usual—a
lot
brighter, almost blinding—but that doesn’t have anything to do with Hudson. He shouldn’t be able to see it, let alone feel it.
I
can’t feel it.

As he steps into the room, the annoying feedback noise that’s plagued me since…well, at least since yesterday, changes tone. It shifts higher and is more solid, less vibrational. It sounds like someone struck a piece of crystal, and the chime doesn’t fade. It gets stronger and higher. It should be annoying, but it’s not. It’s musical. Beautiful.

“How can you stand how cold it is in here?” Hudson rubs his arms and adjusts the straps of his backpack.

Cold? This is always the warmest room in the house.

“Hudson.”

That’s all K.T. says, just his name, but it’s like there’s a whole message in that one word. Hudson stops moving and looks at her. K.T. stares right back, her dark eyebrows raised, until Hudson grunts and looks away.

He can’t stop fidgeting, pacing back and forth across my room, his footsteps surprisingly quiet on the wood floor. The movement is so ceaseless and nervous I’m surprised by how calm his voice sounds when he asks, “Mari, do you remember anything from the past three weeks? Anything before yesterday at school?”

The words register, and I stop breathing. The first moments after “waking up” at school yesterday are fuzzy. I remember K.T. and Hudson being there, but did I tell them how much time was missing?

“How did you know that?” I sign.

Hudson starts to translate for K.T., but she shakes her head. “I know what she said.”

“Since when?” Hudson asks.

K.T. rolls her eyes. “She stopped speaking
four years
ago. How else was I supposed to understand the few things she said?” Then she turns to me and asks, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

I bite my lip and look away. Why is Hudson so twitchy? It seems out of character. And they know more about what’s happened to me than I like. More than makes sense. But what if they can help me fill in the blanks? They told me I’ve spent time with them the past few weeks. Maybe they know some of the things that are missing.

Exhaling heavily, I rub my hands over my face before answering K.T.’s question.

“Three weeks ago, my parents were talking about a trip to Las Vegas to see Aunt Jacquelyn and my cousin Julian,” I sign. “We had pizza for dinner.”

“Did you have that necklace three weeks ago?” Hudson asks.

I put a hand over the glass bird, and my heart rate picks up.

As I shake my head, they exchange a glance. I hold my breath, waiting for whatever is going to come next. Hoping it’s some bit of my life they can fill in.

Hudson finally sits down on my desk chair and rolls closer to the bed. Leaning forward, his eyes lock on mine. “Do you know where you got it?”

Oh, hell. How in the world do I answer
that
? I don’t know
when
I got it, but I know Orane must have given it to me. Memory loss or not, I can’t give them that detail.

Sitting up straighter, I shake my head.

K.T. looks at Hudson, but his eyes never leave mine.

“I’ve told you before not to lie, Mari.” He leans forward an inch. “You’re not good at it.”

He’s told me before? I fight the urge to shrink away as I sign, “I’m not lying.”

They exchange another one of those speaking looks, the ones that show me there are a couple dozen layers to this conversation I can’t see or understand.

His dark eyes glint in the light from my lamps, the reflections like tiny flames dancing inside his eyes. Or stars. Pinpricks of light against a pitch-black background. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, those glittering eyes watching me carefully.

“If you won’t tell us what you know, how about I tell you what
we
know?”

Hudson stills, but only for a moment.

“We know where you go every night.” Hudson’s voice is quiet, but I can hear every word as clearly as if he was screaming. “We know there’s a guy, probably with reddish hair and purple eyes, and we know he’s told you that he can help you.”

When I was younger, when I slept more than an hour a night, nightmares plagued me. After Orane told me about the wars, I had weeks of nightmares about moments like this, where people would somehow know all the secrets I protected. Now it’s happening and I don’t know what to do. My palms sweat and tingle as my heart pushes adrenaline through my body so fast my head feels like it’s lifting off my shoulders.