Bone Season 01: The Bone Season: A Novel (48 page)

“What do you get from his dreamscape?” Nick was looking at me, waiting for a response. “Anything?”

“Just darkness.”

“Maybe I could try. Maybe I could send him a picture.” He smiled thinly. “Or just talk to him, like a normal person.”

“He’d listen,” I said. “If you told him. How do you know he doesn’t feel the same way?”

“I think he has enough to deal with. Besides, you know the rules. No commitment. Jaxon would burst a blood vessel if he knew.”

“Stuff Jaxon. It’s not fair for you to carry this.”

“I’ve managed a year,
sötnos
. I can manage longer.”

My throat was tight. He was right, of course. Jaxon didn’t let us commit. He didn’t like relationships. Even if Nick had loved me, we couldn’t have been together. But now the truth was staring me in the face—now the dream had shattered—I could hardly breathe. This man was not mine. He had never been mine. And no matter how much I loved him, he
would
never be mine.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” I grasped the railing. “I mean—I know it’s none of my business, but—”

“I didn’t want to worry you. You’ve had problems of your own to deal with. I knew Jax would be interested in you, but he’s put you through hell and back. He still treats you like a shiny new toy. It makes me sorry I ever brought you into this.”

“No. No, don’t think that.” I turned to him and squeezed his hand, too tight. “You saved me, Nick. Sooner or later I would have lost my mind. I had to know, or I would have always felt like an outsider. You made me feel like I was part of something, part of a lot of things, actually. I’ll never be able to repay you for that.”

Shock registered on his face. “You look like you’re going to cry.”

“I’m not.” I let go of his hand. “Look, I have to go. I’m meeting someone.”

I wasn’t.

“Paige, wait. Don’t go.” He grasped my wrist, pulled me back. “I’ve upset you, haven’t I? What is it?”

“I’m not upset.”

“You are. Please, just wait a second.”

“I really have to go, Nick.”

“You’ve never had to go when I needed you.”

“I’m sorry.” I pulled my blazer close. “If you want my advice, you should go back to base and tell Zeke how you feel. If he’s got even a single bit of sanity left in there, he’ll say yes.” I looked up at him with a sad smile. “I know I would.”

And I saw it. First confusion, then disbelief, then dismay.

He knew.

“Paige,” he started.

“It’s late.” I swung myself over the railing, my hands trembling. “I’ll see you on Monday, okay?”

“No. Paige, wait.
Wait
.”

“Nick. Please.”

He closed his mouth, but his eyes were still wide. I climbed back down the building, leaving him to stand beneath the moon. It was only when I reached the bottom that the first and only tears came. I closed my eyes and breathed the night air.

I don’t know exactly how I got to I-5. Maybe I took the Underground. Maybe I walked. My father was still at work. He wasn’t expecting me. I stood in the empty apartment, gazing at the skylight. For the first time since childhood, I wished for a mother, or a sister, or even a friend—a friend outside the Seals. As it happened, I didn’t have any of those things. I had no idea what to do, what to feel. What would an amaurotic girl do in my situation? Spend a week in bed, most probably. But I wasn’t an amaurotic girl, and it wasn’t as if I’d broken up with someone. Just with a dream. A childish dream.

I thought back to my days at school, when I’d been the sole voyant among amaurotics. Suzette, one of my only friends, had broken up with her boyfriend in our final year. I tried to remember what she’d done. She hadn’t spent a week in bed, as I recalled. What had she done? Wait. I remembered. She’d sent me a text, asking me to go with her to a club.
Want to dance my cares away
, she’d said. I’d made an excuse, as I always did.

This would be my night. I would dance my cares away. I would forget that it had ever happened. I would get rid of this pain.

I stripped off my clothes, took a shower, then dried and straightened my hair. I put on lipstick and mascara and kohl. I dabbed a little perfume on my pulse points. I pinched my cheeks to make them pink. When I was done, I slipped on a black lace dress, then stepped into a pair of open-toe heels and left the apartment.

The guard looked at me strangely as I passed.

I took a cab. There was a flash house in the East End that Nadine frequented, with cheap mecks (and sometimes real, illegal alcohol) served on weekdays. It was in a rough part of II-6, an area notorious for being one of the only safe places for voyants to hang out: even Gillies didn’t like to go there.

A huge bouncer guarded the door, wearing a suit and hat. He waved me through.

It was dark and hot inside. The space was small, cramped, packed with sweating bodies. A bar ran the length of one wall, serving oxygen and mecks from different ends. To the right of the bar was a dance floor. The people were mostly amaurotic, hipster types in tweed trousers, tiny hats, and brightly colored neckties. I had no idea what I was doing here, watching amaurotics jump around to deafening music, but that was what I wanted: to be spontaneous, to forget the real world.

Nine years I had spent adoring Nick. I would make it a clean break. I wouldn’t allow myself to stop and feel.

I went to the oxygen bar and perched on a stool. The bartender looked me over, but didn’t address me. He was voyant, a seer—he wouldn’t want to talk. But it didn’t take long for someone else to notice me.

There was a group of young men at the other end of the bar, probably students from USL. They were all amaurotic, of course. Few voyants made it to University level. I was just about to order a shot of Floxy when one of them approached me. Nineteen or twenty, he was clean-shaven and a little sunburned. Must have been to another citadel for his year abroad. Scion Athens, perhaps. He wore a cap over his dark hair.

“Hey,” he said above the music. “You here by yourself?”

I nodded. He took a seat beside me. “Reuben,” he said, by way of introduction. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Mecks,” I said. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” He motioned to the bartender, who clearly knew him. “Blood mecks, Gresham.”

The bartender’s brow was creased, but he kept his silence as he poured my blood mecks. It was the most expensive of the alcohol substitutes, made with cherries, black grapes, and plums. Reuben leaned in close to my ear. “So,” he said, “what are you here for?”

“No real reason.”

“You don’t have a boyfriend?”

“Maybe.”
No.

“I just broke up with my girlfriend. And I was thinking, when you walked in—well, I thought stuff I probably shouldn’t think when a pretty girl walks into a bar. But then I thought a girl as pretty as you would have a boyfriend with her. Am I right?”

“No,” I said. “Just me.”

Gresham pushed my mecks across the surface of the bar. “That’ll be two,” he said. Reuben handed him two gold coins. “Am I to assume you’re eighteen, young lady?”

I showed him, he went back to cleaning out the glasses, but he kept an eye on me as I sipped my drink. I wondered what troubled him: my age, my appearance, my aura? Probably all three.

I jerked back to reality when Reuben shifted closer. His breath smelled like apples. “Are you at the University?” he said.

“No.”

“What do you do?”

“Oxygen bar.”

He nodded, sipped his drink.

I wasn’t sure how to do it. To give the sign. Was there a sign? I looked right into his eyes, ran the toe of my shoe along his leg. It seemed to work. He glanced at his friends, who had gone back to their game of shots. “You want to go somewhere?” His voice was low, hoarse. It was now or never. I nodded.

Reuben linked his fingers through mine and led me through the crowd. Gresham watched me. Probably thinking what a minx I was.

I became aware that Reuben wasn’t leading me to my imagined dark corner. He was leading me to the toilets. At least, I thought he was until he guided me through another door, out into the staff car park. It was a tiny rectangular space, only able to hold six cars. Okay, he wanted privacy. That was good. Wasn’t it? At least it meant he wasn’t just showing off for his friends.

Before I could so much as take a breath, Reuben pushed me up against the dirty brick wall. I smelled sweat and cigarettes. To my shock, he started to unbuckle his belt. “Wait,” I said. “I didn’t mean—”

“Hey, come on. It’s just a little fun. Besides”—he dropped his belt—“it’s not like we’re cheating.”

He kissed me. His lips were firm. A wet tongue thrust into my mouth, and I tasted artificial flavoring. I’d never been kissed before. I wasn’t sure I liked it.

He was right. Just a little fun. Of course it was. What could go wrong? Normal people did this, didn’t they? They drank, they did stupid reckless things, they had sex. This was just what I needed. Jax allowed us to do this—just not to commit. I wasn’t going to commit. No strings. Eliza did it.

My head told me to stop. Why was I doing this? How had I ended up here, in the dark, with a stranger? It wouldn’t prove anything. It wouldn’t stop the pain. It would make it worse. But now Reuben was on his knees, pushing my dress up to my waist. He pressed a kiss to my bare stomach.

“You’re so pretty.”

I didn’t feel it.

“You never told me your name.” He traced the edge of my underwear. I shivered.

“Eva,” I said.

The thought of sex with him repulsed me. I didn’t know him. I didn’t want him. But I reasoned it was because I still loved Nick, and I had to make myself stop loving him. I grabbed Reuben’s hair and crushed my lips to his. He made a noise and pulled my legs around him.

A little quiver shot through me. I’d never actually done it before. Wasn’t it meant to be special, the first time? But I couldn’t stop. I had to do this.

The streetlamp shone with a fitful light, blinding me. Reuben placed his hands against the brick wall. I had no idea what to expect. It was exhilarating.

Then pain. Explosive, stunning pain. Like a fist had done a cruel uppercut into my stomach.

Reuben had no idea what had just happened. I waited for it to pass, but it didn’t. He noticed my tension.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I whispered.

“This your first time?”

“No, of course not.”

He bent his head to my neck, kissing from my shoulder to my ear. Before he even tried to move, the pain came again, worse this time, a vicious racking pain. Rueben drew back. “It is,” he said.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Look, I just don’t think I should—”

“Fine.” I shoved him away. “Just—just leave me alone, then. I don’t want you. I don’t want anyone.”

I pushed off the wall and stumbled back into the flash house, pulling down my dress. I only just made it to the toilet in time to throw up. Pain lashed through my thighs and stomach. I curled myself around the toilet bowl, coughing and sobbing. Never in my life had I felt so stupid.

I thought of Nick. I thought of all the years I had spent thinking about him, wondering if he would ever come back to me. And I thought of him now, pictured his smile, how he looked after me, and it was useless: I just wanted him. I put my head in my arms and cried.

26

Change

The intensity of the memory knocked me out for a very long time. I had relived every detail of that night, down to the faintest tremor. I woke up to total darkness, with no idea what time or day it was. “It’s a Sin to Tell a Lie” strained softly from the gramophone.

There were so many memories I could have shown him. I had lived through the Molly Riots, through my father’s bereavement, through years of cruelty at the hands of Scion schoolgirls—yet I’d shown him the night I was turned down by a boy I loved. It seemed so little and so insignificant, but it was my one normal,
human
memory. The one time I had given myself to a stranger. The one and only time my heart had ever been broken.

I didn’t believe in hearts. I believed in dreamscapes and spirits. Those were what mattered. Those made money. But my heart had hurt that day. For the first time in my life I’d been forced to acknowledge my heart, and acknowledge its fragility. It could be bruised. It could humiliate me.

I was older now. Maybe I’d changed. Maybe I’d grown up, grown stronger. I wasn’t that girl on the brink of maturity, desperate to connect, to find someone to lean on. She was long gone. Now I was a weapon, a puppet to the machinations of others. I couldn’t work out which was worse.

A tongue of fire still tantalized the embers in the hearth. It cast light on the figure by the window.

“Welcome back.”

I didn’t reply. Warden glanced over his shoulder.

“Go on,” I said. “You must have something to say.”

“No, Paige.”

A moment passed in silence.

“You think it was stupid. You’re right.” I looked at my hands. “I just—I wanted—”