The Elementals (24 page)
But he could right it. What he had taken, he could return. Tucking his crutch beneath his arm again, he moved to meet the grieving man.
“I can fix it,” Julian said.
Mr. Kiedrowicz stared at him. His mouth hung open, his eyes tormented. He clutched the bundle in his arms as if he might fall down and die.
“We promised,” Kate said, digging her fingers into Julian’s arm.
He knew just what she meant: no more powers. No more time, no more resurrection. Just them and their ordinary lives, going along as most people did. Looking down at her, he almost spoke, but he didn’t have to.
All he needed to know, he read in her eyes. She nodded, steadying him as he held his hands out for the baby. Smoothing a hand up the back of Julian’s neck, she whispered, “I’ll stay with you. I can give you a few more minutes.”
With a nod, Julian turned back. “You can trust me, Mr. Kiedrowicz. Let me make this right.”
The child’s crimson glow was still bright but fading fast. Julian looked to Kate’s parents. Kate looked just like her mother, all but for the eyes. Those were her father’s, through and through. An ache welled in Julian, and he chose his words carefully, every one precious.
“Do me a favor. Please write to Zora and Emerson Birch, Connersville, Indiana. Give them my love, would you?”
“I will not,” Kate’s mother said. “You’ll tell them yourself. Kate, get over here right now.”
“Take care of Handsome, okay? I’ll see you soon.” Kate pressed her fingers to her lips and blew her parents a kiss. Then, before they could stop her, she spilled out her breath. Time collapsed in a tight sphere, swallowing her, Julian, and the baby. She’d made a space just big enough to contain them and nothing else.
All at once, the lobby was empty. Silent.
Handing Kate the baby, Julian dropped his crutches. “We better sit down. Once he’s back, you slide him through fast. I only need a minute.”
“We’re taking as long as you need,” Kate said. She sank down beside him, watching Julian’s face as he settled in. Her hands shook a little, but her face was serene.
Julian wondered if she didn’t realize yet. He wouldn’t wake up this time. This was an even trade, his life for Mr. Kiedrowicz’s baby—a life lived, if only for seventeen years, in exchange for one barely started.
Still numb, Julian worked his magic by rote. A deep breath in, and he blew it out slowly. As the life drained from him, sensation rushed in to fill the emptiness. There was a flare of joy when the baby started to cry; it was such a clear and perfect sound.
Then despair when Kate took the baby, careful to wrap him in his blankets, then pushed him from their circle. No doubt in the lobby, people cried out again. Kate and Julian had disappeared in front of them, and now Mr. Kiedrowicz’s wounded child reappeared alone, whole and well.
Raising his head, Julian’s dark eyes met Kate’s. Every raw part of him was exposed at once, and his heart pounded furiously. Mockingly, because as soon as she set time free again, it would stop. His lips felt so dry, like they might crack and only dust would slip from them. But instead, his voice did.
“I’m afraid, Kate.”
Kate threw her arms around him, and she pressed her face against his hair. Her warmth spread like a promise. She rocked him gently, murmuring, “You don’t have to be. We can stay as long as you want.”
“You have to get back,” Julian said. He hated himself, because he didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want to be noble or good. He didn’t want to find out what happened when the nothing came and never left.
Whispering behind his ear, she said, “We promised we wouldn’t use our gifts again. Well, you did, and now I’m going to. We’re breaking that promise together.”
Julian squeezed his eyes closed. “Kate, I’m not coming back this time.”
“Neither am I.”
And there it was; she’d said it and made it real. They could pass three months together in a single night when her magic surrounded them. She intended to let a lifetime pass this time. To stay with him, sharing the end with him, instead of sending him to meet death alone.
When time stopped, silence was perfect. If no one spoke, if no one breathed, it was very nearly nothing—except there was light. Bathed in light, Julian leaned back against her. “You should go. You’ve got a picture to make. Handsome will miss you.”
Kate pulled his hair. “Don’t remind me.”
It was so very her, what little he knew of her. Choking on a laugh, Julian asked, “Why aren’t you afraid? Have you been afraid even once in your life?”
“Yes, but I’m not now.”
“Don’t tell me you think we’re going to heaven.”
“I’ve never been to Sunday school, so that would be a lie.” She tugged his ear, then brushed her nose against it. She felt like silk; the brush of her skin, the kiss of her touch. “But I know we’re going somewhere.”
Julian frowned. “How can you know that?”
“You told me.”
He couldn’t believe he was going to argue with her, not now. But that’s what he did, turning to look at her incredulously. “When did I ever?”
Assured, Kate started to let her braids out. Every strand was silver now; it swirled like moonlight, cascading around her face and making her ethereal. “‘Sometimes they’re too far gone, and they come back wrong. They don’t stay.’ You said that.”
“That’s not . . .”
“If they have to be close, that means they have to be close to us. Here, with the living.” Freeing another braid, Kate fixed him with a look. “If they’re too far gone to bring them back, then they must be somewhere else.”
“But I don’t know where that is, what that is. That’s not even good logic, Kate.”
“It’s not logic. It’s faith.”
“You just said you’ve never been to Sunday school.” Julian shivered, something stirring beneath his skin. It was sparks or stars, or maybe the end creeping through him in spite of Kate’s magic.
Sitting the rest of the way down, she crossed her legs and pulled him to rest his head in her lap. Trailing her fingers over her face, she looked into his eyes.
“So? I still have faith. In you. In the elements. In the universe. What are the stars made out of? How did they get there?”
Julian reached up, twining a lock of her hair around his finger. “I don’t know.”
“I think we’re about to find out,” she said. Then she leaned down and kissed him, sharing her heat with him; trading a breath with him.
“What was that for?” he asked when Kate drew back.
With a brash smile, she shrugged and said, “In case I’m wrong. Are you ready?”
“I don’t know.”
Brushing his hair back, she murmured, “I can feel it moving now. Time getting away from us.”
A rush of panic filled Julian. “You should go—let go, Kate.”
“Are you ready?”
He shook his head. Time didn’t move in his veins like it did in hers. For him, this was one short moment, and all he had. He didn’t sense the days that passed in a kaleidoscope flicker. His bones didn’t realize that the world they knew was already gone.
In this shimmering shell of magic, they had already outlasted decades.
Calm, Kate brushed his hair back again. Her fingers rested on his skin, warm and certain. With a faint smile, she said, “Tell me you’re ready, and I’ll let go.”
Clasping the back of her neck, Julian closed his eyes and breathed one more time. He touched her skin and listened to her breath. He pressed his other hand to his own chest to feel his heartbeat. That was all that was left of this life, those little evidences.
After a long moment, he opened his eyes and said, “Count of three?”
“Three,” she said.
Sunrises and sunsets glimmered through the lobby windows like so many fireflies. Seasons and years and centuries slipped away, a long dusk that turned to night.
“Two,” he replied.
“One,” they said together, and there were the stars. The elements. The universe.
THE END
Many thanks to my editor, Julie Tibbott, without whom
The Vespertine
would still be a trunk novel and
The Elementals
would never have existed at all. You’re Kate and Julian’s midwife and godmother—quite a balancing act!
Huge thanks to Jen LaBracio, Jenny Groves, and the entire team at Harcourt. You’re incredible, and I’m so lucky that my books are in your capable hands. Thank you so, so much for championing them!
All my love and affection to my agent, Jim McCarthy, who knows all the things, settles all the distress, and answers all the questions. Thank you for being there always.
I owe so much to Aprilynne Pike, Carrie Ryan, Sarah Rees Brennan, Sarah Cross, Sarah MacLean, Christine Johnson, Kay Cassidy, Megan Crewe, and Jackson Pearce that they may as well own me. Call in your markers anytime, ladies.
More effusive thanks go to Jenny Martin, for helping me unearth 1917 Los Angeles, Stephanie Burgis and Samantha Cheh for suggesting
La Belle Dame sans Merci,
and Jeri Smith-Ready for sorting the sky.
Many thanks to Judy Blume for every book she has ever written and for every story that I now remember as my own. Uncle Feather has a soul mate in Handsome.
Sneaky thanks to Katie B., Sophie R., and Heidi Z. If you’ve gotten this far, you should see how much your friendship and support mean to me. If not, I promise you, it’s immeasurable.
Special thanks to my mother, Sheryl Jern, whose own battle with polio informed and shaped Julian’s story—just as she informed and shaped me as a human being. I hope I’ve done you justice on both counts.
And always, eternal thanks to Jason and Wendi. I couldn’t do this without you, and I wouldn’t want to try. Thank you for framing my world.
Finally, thank
you
, my friend. Can you believe we’ve finished a trilogy together? Thank you for being there all along, for reading, for all your kindness. Thank you for making these characters real.
Visit
www.hmhbooks.com
to find more books by Saundra Mitchell.
S
AUNDRA
M
ITCHELL
is a screenwriter and author. Her companion novels
The Vespertine, The Springsweet,
and
The Elementals
have been praised for their rich historical settings, evocative language, and heart-pounding romance. Her debut novel,
Shadowed Summer,
was a 2010 Edgar Award Nominee, a Junior Library Guild selection, and an ALAN Pick. She lives in Indianapolis, Indiana with her husband and her two children.