Dark Light of Day (19 page)

W
hen we got up to our room, I laid Ivy down on her bed and pulled the covers up over her. She fell fast asleep. I wasn’t so lucky. I cleaned up Serafina’s remains, which was a nasty and pitiful job. Even if I’d been able to sleep in my bed after Serafina’s death on top of it, it wouldn’t have mattered. Her smoking corpse had left a gaping hole in my mattress. I pulled out some extra blankets from my closet and lay down on the floor. Ivy’s steady breathing sounded reassuring, but sleep eluded me. I was plagued with guilt, grief, and worry.

Sunlight was sluicing through the cracks between shade and window when Ivy became fully conscious again. She moaned and I was instantly by her side.

“What happened?”

“You were attacked by a demon,” I said. Her eyes grew wide, remembering.

“Why was it here in the first place?” Ivy’s voice croaked like a frog’s as she struggled to sit up. I rearranged her covers as she rose to a cross-legged sitting position and then opened
the shades. Sunlight streamed through the room, temporarily blinding us. For once, it was a clear day.

“I let it in,” I said, turning around and sitting on the bed next to Ivy. “I’m so sorry, Ivy. It was…” I searched for words to describe what I’d done but could think of none vile or repugnant enough. I settled on
terribly irresponsible
and
unbelievably stupid
, while acknowledging their inadequacy and interspersing my self-flagellation with further apologies. “I thought I’d be able to control her,” I lamely concluded. “But instead I became enchanted by her. And then I had to kill her.” My next words came out in a rush because I had no real desire to say them, just a sense that I ought to.

“You can request a new roommate if you’d like. I’m a danger to you and everyone else.”

“
Demons
are dangerous,” Ivy said fiercely. “Although, if you ever bring a demon into this room again, I
will
request reassignment.”

She seemed to sense my misery then and she reached out to squeeze my hand. “Thank you for saving me,” she said.

“Saving you? You were injured because of me.”

She shrugged. “If you hadn’t killed that familiar it would have killed me.”

I nodded, still miserable.

A knock sounded on our door. “Probably Fitz,” Ivy said. “He was supposed to meet us here before breakfast. Our original plan was to pry you away from Ari to pick your brain for the upcoming Sin and Sanction midterm.”

I groaned. Ivy grinned at me and then winced. I guess there was still some residual pain.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I don’t feel like studying either.”

I walked over to the door and opened it. Fitz stood there holding three steaming cups of coffee and a paper bag that smelled mouthwateringly good. If I had to guess, I would say cinnamon rolls. I threw my arms around him and kissed him on the cheek.

“Thanks—”

I cut off my welcoming cry when I saw who was standing
behind him. Ari, who raised an eyebrow at my unrestrained show of affection for Fitz. I detangled myself from Fitz and stepped aside to let them in.

I hastily scooped my blankets off the floor and piled them on my desk chair, still avoiding my ruined bed.

“I ran into Ari on the way up here,” Fitz said. “He told me what happened last night. Ivy, are you okay?”

She nodded.

“Are
you
okay?” Fitz said, turning to me.

“I’m fine,” I lied. I’d killed a demon, been the cause of Ivy’s injury, and had gotten zero sleep last night. How fine could I be?

“Your dad’s really something, you know,” Fitz said. “Who gives someone a demon as a gift?”

I shrugged. “The same person who’s married to the woman who thought giving me an evergreen was a good idea.”

Fitz and Ivy looked puzzled, but Ari’s face showed first surprise then anger. He shook his head and walked over to me.

“Don’t drink that,” he said, grabbing the coffee from my hands. He didn’t look upset when he said it though so I was only mildly alarmed when he put his arm around my shoulders and started marching me to the door.

“You need sleep and you’re not going to get it here,” he said, looking at the rolled up blankets piled on my chair.

Fitz and Ivy looked at each other. Ivy tried to hide her smile.

“What about Ivy?” I said, trying to sneak out from under Ari’s arm. “Someone has to stay with her.”

“I’m fine, Noon,” Ivy said. “Besides, Fitz is here. Go get some rest in a comfortable bed.” She gave me a wicked grin as Ari squeezed the scruff of my neck and propelled me through the door.

I told Ari I didn’t want to go back to Infernus.

“If you’re worried about meeting anyone else right now, don’t be. They’re all gone. There’s only five of us. Well, six now,” he said, grinning at me. “Three of the MIT’s stick
together—Sasha, Brunus, and Tosca. They left to get breakfast and study somewhere. They won’t be back until much later. And Mercator spends every weekend with his girlfriend.”

I was out of excuses or just too tired to think of any more so I let Ari lead me up to his room. Even after the door was locked, I was too keyed up for sleep. I paced the room, picking up Ari’s things, examining them, putting them back down, barely remembering what I had touched. Ari sat on his bed, leaning against the headboard, watching me, saying nothing. Finally, I perched myself on the edge of his bed, as far away from him as I could get.

I didn’t know how to act around him. I’d never had a boyfriend before, never wanted one—and I wasn’t even sure that’s what he was. The only guy I’d ever fallen asleep beside had been my brother in our early years. With Peter, sleepovers had been out of the question. And later, when I was older and had lain with Hyrkes, I’d always snuck out after to avoid any potential awkwardness. But I realized now my escapes weren’t made to avoid awkwardness. They were made to avoid closeness. Sleep required a deep state of relaxation, an openness which made one vulnerable to deeper connections. I didn’t want that. I liked my emotional gates as they were—high and impenetrable.

What was with Ari? Did he mean to tear down my every defense?

As if he’d read my thoughts, Ari reached down for me and scooted me up next to him, so that I was leaning against him in the crook of his arm. He clasped his arms around me, the gesture affectionate but also, I couldn’t help thinking, a means of deterring my escape. I leaned into him, half resistant and stiff, closing my signature down as tightly as I could. He seemed to sense my reservation and dampened down his own signature so that all I could feel from him was a small dose of balmy heat, like the steam coming off a teakettle. But the lessening of magic made me more susceptible to Ari’s other, more physical, offerings. Suddenly I was intensely aware of how hard his chest felt beneath my back, the
strength of his arms around me, and the clean scent of his clothes, lightly laced with something pleasant I couldn’t quite place. Vanilla or anise maybe. And beneath that was a musky, manly smell that made me want to bury my head in his neck and breathe deep.

I turned to look at him. I wanted to see his face, know what he was thinking. But when I turned my head, he brushed the hair away from my neck and kissed me there. His lips felt full and soft as they pressed into my skin. His mouth lingered and his tongue tasted as he worked his way up to the spot just behind my ear. His slow kisses sent shivers racing down my spine and I gripped his thigh without thinking.

“I’m sorry,” he said, laughing softly. “I really do want you to sleep.”

I thought about telling him I could never sleep there, that he made me so agitated I would never be able to relax enough to sleep in his presence. But I opted for a diversionary discussion so I wouldn’t have to talk about how he made me feel.

“Tell me about the other Maegesters-in-Training,” I said. “The MIT’s.”

Ari grunted. “You’ll come to your own judgments, of course, but on the whole I find them to be very tedious. Mercator is a decent sort but the rest, honestly, Halja could do without. Sasha you already know,” he said with a dismissive wave.

I made a face, which Ari couldn’t see, but he must have sensed my magic flare up at mention of his name because he tightened his hold and then put his chin on my shoulder so that our cheeks were touching.

“Sending him to talk to you wasn’t the best plan,” he admitted. “But Mercator wasn’t available and I knew Sasha was your cousin—”

“My second cousin, whom I’d never met—for good reason! And besides, nearly everyone in the Host is distantly related.”

“I was desperate. You had shut me out, decided I was the enemy because I knew your secret.”

Settled in Ari’s arms, his cheek pressed against mine, this man felt like anything but an enemy.

“Would you have declared for me?” I asked.

After a while, he answered with a question of his own. “If Peter finds the Reversal Spell, will you let him cast it over you?”

He seemed to hold his breath, waiting for me to answer. But I couldn’t. For the first time, I was unsure.

Ari sat behind me, absolutely still. Slowly I felt his hold on me lessen. The silence between us became a roar in my ears. The steamy teakettle heat I’d been feeling from him grew tepid and then cold. Ari’s signature closed down to a trickle, like drops from the end of an icicle. It was as if he’d shut himself off from me. The thought left me frightened for some reason and the fact that I was suddenly afraid of him not being there bothered me intensely. I needed to stick to my own plan, my own goals.

“I should have been born with waxing magic,” I said. “Nothing is going to stop me from reversing my magic if I’m given the means to do so.”

Ari stood up, keeping his back to me. His signature felt frustrated and angry, but there was some other emotion in it. Conflict? Fear? I hugged my knees, my back to his headboard, and let Ari’s magic wash over me. I threw up no answering shield or counterforce. I absorbed what he threw off, trying to better understand it. It hurt. I laid my head on my knees and turned away from him, feeling an intense loneliness and a panicked sense of having lost something precious. But the feeling receded. Ari came over and helped me to my feet. He wouldn’t look at me. He pulled the covers of his bed down and tucked me in, pulling the blanket beneath my chin. He focused on it instead of me, and then turned toward the door.

“You were born with waning magic,” he said. “You should learn how to use it.” He opened his door and stepped out. “Get some sleep,” he said gruffly. “You’re going to need it.”

*   *   *

I
’d sworn I wouldn’t sleep there but I did. I was too exhausted to do anything but. I’m not sure, but it’s possible that Ari joined me at some point. I dreamed of someone strong. As strong as I was but unafraid. It was a nice dream. I smiled and sighed and threw my arm across the someone’s chest, burying my face in their neck like I’d wanted to do earlier with Ari. The someone murmured something in my ear, low and sweet. I felt the rumble in his chest as he did so and then the someone hugged me close. Closer. But I was as close as I could get.
For now.

Then I slept deeper still, in a place where there were no dreams, but my rest was fitful and torn. In that place I was alone, unaware of the future, and wary of what lay ahead. When I woke up, it was dark and Ari was gone. There was a note.

I left Ari’s room and walked back to Megiddo to check on Ivy. She was tired but fine, so I spent the rest of Sunday cramming at Corpus Justica for Manipulation. I intentionally sat where Ari had first kissed me, thinking maybe he’d show up. But he didn’t. It was probably for the best since I had lots of work to do.

I knew (because I had finally read the Maegester part of the St. Luck’s course catalog) that Manipulation class consisted of three parts: (1) a classroom component, where we would discuss our assigned demon law cases; (2) practice sessions, which would teach us how to shape our magic and use it as a method of control (i.e. a weapon—needless to say, I had mixed emotions about
that
); and (3) the application part, where we would apply our newfound knowledge and
experience to a real case. Our final grade in Manipulation would be based upon how well we represented and/or controlled our assigned clients.

With that in mind, I selected three books (
Demon Law Fundamentals: Azazel’s Legacy
by Ludovicopolis Diasporite,
Swords and Shields: Shaping Waning Magic into a Weapon of Peace
by Mediolanum Pyrophane, and
The Art of Appeasement: Representing Regulare Demons
by Eboracum Acerila) from the thousands that were available to students at Corpus Justica for just such cramming emergencies. I spent the rest of Sunday and into Sunday night reading them, leaving the library only once to grab some soup at the Black Onion. I drank it straight from the cup on my way back to campus, glancing over my shoulder only six or seven times as I passed the New Babylon train station. Nothing out of the ordinary happened however (besides me nearly choking when my footsteps startled a large alley cat out of hiding. My signature zinged, but luckily the only effect of the encounter was slightly overcooked chicken). I threw the paper cup into a trash can before reentering Corpus Justica and then proceeded to read hundreds of thousands of words that really could have been summed up in the three words of advice I’d already been given by Seknecus:
take great care
.

T
he bright sun was gone by the next morning. Halja saw very few sunny days between Yule and Bryde’s Day, which was this Thursday. Already the preparations had begun. I’d seen workmen delivering boxes to Lekai and I’d heard there would be a service that day in the auditorium for any St. Luck or Joshua School student who wanted to attend. No doubt the whole place would be full of corn dolls and other Bryde idols representing the coming spring and the first flush of new life. No one with waning magic would be given a corn doll to hold, no matter how dead it was. It would be near sacrilege. And the last thing I wanted was to be invited to torch the place with the rest of the MIT’s
who would surely be given the “honor” of setting fire to the last remaining Yule greens. Nope, I would celebrate Bryde’s Day my usual way. By throwing open my window and thanking Luck (not Bryde) that spring and warmer weather were coming.