Sleight (17 page)

As we ate, Henry asked me about music, I asked him about growing up in Eaglefern. We took turns feeding one another bites of pasta, laughing as he slurped a noodle and as I smeared Alfredo sauce across my chin. We stopped short of a Lady and the Tramp reenactment, but the thought of sharing a single strand of linguine until our lips met in the middle, yeah, it crossed my mind.

We were dancing around the scary, complicated stuff, but when we ran out of unimportant subjects, I summoned the courage to ask about his mom.

“So…can I ask…how does that thing work, with your mom?

Does she whisper to you or what?”

Henry wiped his face on his napkin and sat back against the bench. “No, it’s not like that. Most of the time, I just get images.

She can talk to me, but doesn’t always. I don’t know—it’s sort of hard to explain. We can carry on conversations. I learned to speak French listening to her in my head. She used to sing me to sleep when I was realy little, always in French. Scared the hel out of Lucian when I was learning to talk, and everything coming out was French instead of English or Romanian.”

“You speak Romanian, too?”

“Some. Only out of necessity.”

“What was that like, having a constant companion with you when you were young?”

“Normal. Like home. I always felt safe knowing that my mother was near. She warned me when Lucian was in a rage or when he was going off about something. I spent a lot of time with nannies, too, so it’s not like Lucian and I did a lot of father-son bonding. I did that bonding stuff with my mom.”

“Even though she wasn’t realy there,” I said.

“Yup.”

“That sucks. At least I had Delia there sometimes, for better and for worse.”

“Yeah, but by the sounds of it, you never knew what you were going to be faced with, whether Delia would be herself or if she’d be in LaLa Land.”

“True…,” I said. Delia spent a lot of time in LaLa Land. Too much. “I remember when I first started seeing the shades. I was terrified and thought for sure that there was something wrong with me. I didn’t want anyone to find out because I didn’t want them to send me to the hospital with Delia.” I looked away. The pity in Henry’s eyes was making my throat tight. “Did you ever wonder if you were crazy?”

“What, because I can talk to my dead mother and she can answer back? Or maybe because I can electrocute people when they piss me off?” he laughed. “Nah. It was just normal to me.

Alicia has always been there, and I’ve learned how to deal with the touch thing. But who knows? Maybe I am crazy. But you heard her, too, so that makes you a candidate for crazy, as wel.”

“Yeah, like I didn’t know that about myself.” I baled up my own napkin and tossed it into the sink. “Do you see her? Like, standing in a bright light or sitting on grass or…?” I was thinking about how I had seen her in the field this afternoon.

“It’s like this—you know when you’re about to do something you know you shouldn’t do, and a little voice pops into your head that tels you no? It’s kind of like that. Only with pictures. And stuff in French,” he said. He raised his eyebrows, his face questioning whether I believed him.

“Is she with you al the time?” It gave me pause to think of his mother watching us, watching me, through her son’s eyes. “Because I see her sometimes, floating nearby…”

“I can close it off, if that’s what you mean. She’s not a spy, Gemma. She stays away as appropriate. It’s more like having an amplified conscience.” Of course, he couldn’t see her. But I could.

She felt like a spy to me.

“Like Jiminy Cricket?”

“Yeah, like Jiminy Cricket. Only with a crystal bal,” he said.

“So, when you’re hanging out with friends or whatever, can she always see what you’re up to?” What I realy wanted to know was if we were to kiss or something, someday, maybe, would Alicia be involved? Because that would be…weird.

A sly smile crept across his face. “No. It doesn’t work like that.” I sensed by the drop in his voice that he caught on to what I was saying. “I can shut her out when I need to. She knows when to stay away.”

I felt my face reddening and looked at the clock on the stereo panel. After 7 p.m. Already?

“So, you probably have homework to get to, huh?” he said, shifting on the bench. “I should’ve brought mine.”

“No, I’m light tonight. Not a lot to do, or at least not a lot that I want to do. I have a photo assignment, but it’s a little dark for that now,” I said. I studied his face, examining the area above his eye.

“You’re a fast healer. Your eye looks so much better than it did yesterday.” Even the blood in the white of his eye had pretty much disappeared. He reached for my hand and pressed it to his cheekbone.

“See? Al better,” he said.

A pleasant silence settled between us, our fingers intertwined against his clean-shaven face. The tingle of anticipation surged through me as Henry puled me around to his side of the table. I scooted toward him, and he moved his hand to my cheek to brush a few wayward curls around the side of my face.

“May I?” he asked, his voice quiet and sweet. I nodded, nervous but ecstatic as his face drew closer.

“Can she…is Alicia watching?” I whispered.

“No. She’s gone,” he said, closing the last few inches between us.

His lips met mine, soft, warm, ful. As he kissed me, yet another flush of energy radiated from him through my entire body. I didn’t know if it was the product of his sharing emotions through touch, or if it was my own body’s primal reaction to our first kiss. Didn’t matter. I loved it, every precious second, and I let myself get swept away in the euphoric sensation of his lips on mine.

At first, our kiss was gentle and thoughtful but gained momentum as we figured out one another’s rhythm. The cadence of our breathing intensified, and he was gentle as he nibbled my lip, teased me with his tongue. He tasted like heaven. His hands cupped my head; his fingers traced the outline of my cheekbone. Henry’s face next to mine—everything about it felt so right, so much different than any kiss with Ash. Ash’s few kisses had been hard, almost angry. But Henry was responsive, his lips reacting in equal parts passion and control, not at al demanding and yet not lacking in desire. It was…electric.

When we parted, he rested his forehead against mine, and we smiled at our first romantic encounter. I hugged him tight, kissing his neck and burying my face in his shoulder. I inhaled, absorbing as much of his scent as I could. It was one of those moments that should be alowed to last forever.

I eased away from his neck, and Henry placed his hands on the sides of my head, his index fingers resting on the rim of each of my ears. He slowly kissed my forehead, then brushed the tip of my nose with his lips, before planting another ful kiss on my mouth. I didn’t want it to be over. I was hungry for him, a hunger born of fear and safety and longing and happiness. I puled my legs underneath me and knelt on the bench, leaning into him. He wrapped his arms around my middle and puled me closer, his upper body now wedged into the narrow space between the table and seat back. I tangled my fingers through his hair and gently squeezed the back of his neck. He felt strong, warm, under my touch.

Henry paused only to put my hand on his chest, over his heart.

“Is yours beating as fast as mine?” he asked. I smiled and rubbed the thin fabric of his shirt.

“I think mine’s going faster,” I teased.

“I can fix that,” he said, puling my face back to his. My hands migrated from his hair to his shoulders and chest, broad and firm.

He caressed my sides, his thumbs pausing at the underwire of my bra. Just the hint of him touching me so intimately sent a fresh wave of chils throughout my entire being.

Things were getting heated. I felt Henry pul back, exerting the control I lacked. I had no interest in time, my homework, getting to bed. What I wanted was to melt into him, forget that there was a world outside those four wals.

“Gemma,” he breathed, slowing his kisses, “I should go…before I get us both into trouble.” I knew he was right, the voice of reason, but already I was looking forward to the next time we’d have a moment alone to just be ourselves, wrapped in the solitude of one another. I didn’t want him to leave. I wanted to pul him onto my bunk, draw the drape, and keep him captive forever.

As my body, semi-reclined on his, impeded his escape, I took a long moment to catalog the minute details of his face, his eyes, his lips. Henry Dmitri was, hands down, the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen.

“Gemma, you’re stunning,” he said, his voice low, soft.

“You need glasses.” Compliments made me say stupid things.

Pouting, I pushed myself back and slid off the bench to help him into his heavy wool pea coat. We walked toward the door, our hands locked together, not wanting to break our physical connection. Henry stopped and bent over, embracing me once again. He lifted me from the floor, not a difficult task considering the seven-plus inches of height difference, and I squealed with surprise.

He crushed my lips with another long, passionate kiss. I wanted to plead with him to stay with me, keep me safe.

I felt weak when he set me down again. “So, Summer said she thought you were gay,” I said.

“She said that, huh?” Henry giggled. “Wel, what do you think?”

“I think we can put that little theory to rest.” I stretched on my tiptoes and kissed him again. “Cal or text to let me know you made it home.” I took one final inhale of him.

“I wil.” Grinning, he descended the stairs of the trailer. When he turned back to wave a final goodbye, a sadness had drifted into his face, maybe because he knew he was going to a home with no one but a housekeeper to keep him company. But I hoped it was because he felt as melancholy as I did about having to part ways just when things were getting so good.

:19:

“Some things are true whether you believe in them or not.”

—Seth, City of Angels

Because we were staying put in Eaglefern, the chore lists for the circus road crew had been modified. They no longer had to rig up massive tent poles, stretch miles of plasticized canvas, or put up temporary enclosures for the beasts at the end of every week. In the good old days when the Cinzio Traveling Players actualy traveled, we’d pul into a place and it would be ready for us to set up our temporary oasis of magic. Now that our wheels had been flattened, other tasks had surfaced—yucky, boring tasks. Lots of cleaning, lots of maintenance. And with it, lots of grumbling.

With the addition of public school, I’d been lucky—my chore expectations had actualy been reduced. I took care of my elephants, scooped poop, and continued my music lessons with Irina. In a way, residential status was making me lazy. And I kinda loved it. Instead of the quiet moments puling me into dark thoughts about how much I missed my mom, how angry I was at her for leaving me, how bitter I felt about her spotty presence throughout my life, I could instead think about other stuff, stuff that “normal” teenagers spent time thinking about. Like boys. One boy in particular. And getting lost in that one boy’s eyes, inhaling his smel, feeling his face so close to mine, drowning in his attention. Yes, this new living situation was growing on me.

He was back at school, thank heavens. I didn’t want to have to deal with the stares from the sharks on my own. When Henry walked down the hal with me, the looks and comments were kept to a minimum. Like people just minded their manners when he was present. And Junie was never around to interfere. She was plenty busy learning the new flight patterns of her felow social butterflies.

The sun had made a remarkable appearance in the late February sky, its warmth having an immediate and obvious impact on the morale of the entire student body. The stadium was filed with the lunch crowd, and although the footbal field was stil soggy, the covered team benches on the far side sat unoccupied. The perfect spot for Henry and me to hang out, to be out of the lunchroom and catch some rays.

“I had fun last night,” he said as we rounded the rubberized track.

“Oh, yeah?” I teased.

“Yeah.” Henry smiled. It made my knees wobble.

“What did you like about it?”

“You,” he stopped and kissed me right there in front of God and everyone.

“That’s funny, ’cuz I was thinking that you were what made it rock.” I grinned and hooked my arm in his. He kissed the side of my head. “You’d better watch yourself, Dmitri. Someone’s gonna see you mauling me.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

As we stepped into the canopied dugout, Henry took off his coat and spread it over the metal bench. Even though the sun was out, everything was stil dripping with the season. I’d grabbed food, enough for both of us, from the meal tent before leaving this morning, glad I had now that we had an excuse to be outside.

Though my experience with eating in the cafeteria had been minimal, I’d had enough squishy croutons, stale bread, and canned spaghetti sauce for a lifetime. It made me appreciate Jean-Pierre and his team so much more. And I now understood why Henry avoided school food. Too bad Lucian hadn’t spent some of his hard-earned money to improve the culinary offerings of EHS.

“Gemma, at some point, we need to talk about the book. I don’t know how much Ted has told you, and it’s important that you know…everything,” he said. Yuck! Why? No, nothing serious!

I’m still basking in the afterglow. Can’t you just kiss me again so I can pretend that everything is perfect for a little while longer?

“Do we have to do this now?” I whined.

“Yeah…we do.”

“Wel, then, I suppose Ted hasn’t told me enough. About anything, it seems.”

“What do you know about the book?”

“That it’s old. It’s magical. Lucian wants it but the people who have it won’t give it back. Because it’s theirs to begin with,” I said, taking a bite of apple. “Oh, yeah, and we’re stuck in this bustling metropolis until Lucian gets what he wants. That about covers it.” Henry chuckled under his breath. His head tilted, he looked at me, his eyes playful. “Do you want to leave this bustling metropolis?”

“Not now,” I said. He leaned over and gave me another kiss. It tasted like tomato. “Seriously, aren’t you freaked Daddy Dmitri has spies in our midst?”