For Your Heart (Hill Dweller Retellings) (11 page)

    
Tamrin glances at himself, as if he hadn’t noticed.  “It’s not permanent.  I told you, I don’t glow like a normal
Aos Si
.  Roxel gave me certain powers so I could perform my duties as a knight.”

    
I knit my brow.  “And you need to glow green to be a knight?”

    
He shrugs.  “I do what she tells me.”

    
“Well,” I say, feeling my face warm for no stupid reason, “you look better without it.”  I quickly add, “Chartreuse isn’t your color.”

    
  His mouth does that crooked grin thing.  “I’ll keep that in mind…Anyway,” his brows pull tight over his stormy eyes and he frowns, “you and I have to work on this silent communication thing.  I want pancakes.”

    
Sighing, I shove my hair back.  “Trust me.  You don't want Dad's cooking.”

    
“Smelled fine to me last night,” he reasons.  Then, crossing his buff arms, he leans against the wall.  “I haven't eaten in almost two days.  I'm famished.”

    
Sighing, I slide across the bed, then pause.  This side is warm – like someone recently laid here.  I glance at Tamrin accusingly, but he avoids my glare by feigning interest in my poster of Jensen Ackles.

    
Feeling violated, I pull my knees to my chest and lock my arms around them.  “Okay, that’s going too far.”

    
Tamrin purses his lips and when he speaks, I can tell he’s choosing his words carefully.  “I didn’t think you should have to inconvenience yourself on my account.  The bed is big enough for both of us.”

    
Scowling, I say, “I’m already inconvenienced!  You’re threatening to kill me, you psycho!  This is my bed, my room, my house.  You’re not welcome here.”

    
He flinches slightly, like my words actually wound him, but then he lifts his chin.  “That’s irrelevant.”

    
“It’s relevant to me.” I push out of bed and storm toward my closet.  “I mean, you
slept
with me!  You touched me while I was sleeping!”  At that verbal realization, I resist the urge to do a gross-out dance.   A complete STI ridden stranger – with a very colorful fantasy life, if his insistence on being a faerie-lord is any indication – not only slept in my room, but carried me to bed and had the nerve to sleep next to me, all while fantasizing about carving me up like a friggin’ Christmas ham! 

    
Stiff with rage and creepers, I rummage through my clothes.  “Look, I get that you’re crazy and want to kill me,” I say.  I’ll now accept he’s a corporeal being and not a hallucination, but I don’t believe any of the other crap he’s feeding me.  I mean, faeries and angels?  Come on. 
He’s
the crazy one, not me.  “But you’re not allowed to violate my personal space. 
Ever
.  And you’re not allowed to stay here.  Go home, stop stalking me, and come back when it’s time.”  Which will give me plenty of time to call the cops – which I would have done last night if I didn’t think he’d kill me or Dad on the spot.  You can’t be too careful with psychopaths.

    
When he speaks, his voice is indignant.  “I don’t understand why you’re so upset.  If Roxel fell asleep on the floor and I carried her back to bed, she’d be grateful.  And she likes when I sleep with her, she says I’m warm.”

    
“Right, I forgot, you sleep with your queen.”  I roll my eyes at my sweaters.  “You have an amazing fantasy life.”

    
“Why are you so angry at me, Jeanette?  I didn’t do anything to you.”

    
I get the feeling he’s telling the truth, but that doesn’t make it any less creepy.  He doesn’t even understand that it’s creepy.  “They teach foul manners in your world.  Don’t you know the first thing about being a knight?”  Part of me itches to rip my copy of the collected works of Chrétien de Troyes off the floor and pelt it at his head.  If he’s gonna lie, at least lie correctly.

    
He doesn’t respond, but I feel his eyes.  I give a subtle glance to the mirror to verify my sixth sense and sure enough he's watching me like a cat ready to pounce on a mouse.  The room is too small and asphyxiating with both of us.  Turning around, I throw my sweater on the ground.  “Why are you staring at me?” I demand, sounding more annoyed than freaked out – which is exactly what I am.  I’m beyond freaked out.  I’m getting really pissed at this guy.  “You’re a total creeper!”

    
Looking agitated, Tamrin rubs a finger down the particularly bluish-looking lock of hair over his ear.  “What is that thing called?”  He gestures at my outfit.

    
I'm wearing a spaghetti strap tee and a pair of old volleyball shorts.  I bite the inside of my cheek.  Yeah, probably not the best thing to wear with a suspected rapist in the room.  “Pajamas,” I say flatly as I turn away.  “They’re just junky old clothes.”

    
Tamrin scoffs.  “They look
very
good on you.”

    
Flustered and intent on ignoring his comment, I bend and snatch my sweater from the floor.

    
“Especially when you do
that
.”  His voice is all sorts of pleased and I can't help but self consciously cover my ass with my sweater and turn.

    
“Don't get any ideas, Faerie Man,” I warn. “I've taken karate.”  In like fourth grade.  For a week.  But he doesn't need to know that.

    
“With you?” He flashes a teasing grin and his voice is all dark purr.  “Never.”

    
Blushing, I look away.  “Whatever.  I'm going to get breakfast.  You better be gone when I come back or I’ll call the cops.”  As I slip through the door, Tamrin follows me into the hall.  “What do you think you're doing?  You can't come with me.”

    
“Why?”

    
“Are you kidding me?  If Dad knew I had a guy in here last night, he’d kill us both.”

    
“Not if I kill him first.”

    
Alarm shoots through me and I get defensive.  I take a step toward him, meeting his gaze, and plant my fists on my hips.  “If you touch my Dad, the deal’s off.  I'll drive a stake through my heart.  Don’t touch my friends or my dad.”

    
For a moment, he looks about to argue with me, but I say, “My house, my rules.”

    
Scowling, he paces back and forth between the bathroom door and my room.  He looks like a caged beast.  “I'm hungry.”

    
“You've got a bow.  Go shoot a squirrel, Mister Faerie Knight.”  I slip down the stairs, leaving him staring after me with those piercing eyes.

Between chewing my Kashi and drinking my Tropicana, I start thinking about the few hours that I thought I was the crazy one and I begin to feel bad for how crazy Tamrin actually is.  As much as he postures about killing me, I’m pretty sure he’s not going to.  He’s simply caught up in his neurosis.  And he only wants pancakes.  He probably doesn’t get decent pancakes at whatever institution he broke out of.

    
As Dad disappears into the study, I slip into the kitchen and, sighing, I reach into the top cabinet for the flour.  I can’t believe I’m making him pancakes.  Geez, I’m
such
a softie.

Tamrin

     When Jeanette leaves, I’m tempted to storm down for breakfast anyway.  Does she intend on starving me?  Still, I’ll do as she wishes.  Needing something to take my mind off the pit in my stomach, I busy myself with tidying up.

    
I’ve replaced the books, made the bed, prepared myself for the day, and am thumbing through one of her backward picture books when Jeanette comes into the room.

    
I hear her sigh of relief as she heads toward the table.  “I’m glad you’ve given up the phosphorescent paint,” she says.  “Here.”  She puts a plate on the desk.

    
Pancakes.  For me.  Perhaps she prefers poison over starving me.  “I thought your father’s cooking sucked.”

    
Crossing her arms, Jeanette leans against the edge of the desk.  “It does, but mine doesn’t.”

    
I cock my head and give her a disbelieving expression.  “
You
made
me
breakfast?”

    
She turns away.  “I’m hoping if I feed you, you’ll stop hanging around like a starving puppy.”

    
Putting the book aside, I investigate the plate.  They don’t look bad, they don’t smell bad.  I pick one up, half it, and take a bite.  After a moment of chewing, I feel myself smiling.  It’s good.  Jeanette is a good cook.  I would like her to cook for me more often.  “Hasn’t anyone told you that if you feed strays they’ll never leave you alone?” I tease, mouth still full.

    
She pretends to examine her nails.  “Well, you seem harmless enough.”

    
I pause in my chewing and narrow an eye at her.  “I thought I was a killer hallucination.”

    
She bites a nail as she looks at me.  A kaleidoscope of emotions plays across her fair features.  I wonder what she’s thinking.  Finally, she says, “Where are your parents?  N-not that it matters, you look like you’re eighteen, so you’re probably old enough to be on your own, it’s just-”

    
“I don’t have any,” I say, halting her awkward tirade.  I lift the pancake to my lips. “Roxel raised me.  And yes, I’m old enough.  I’m older than I look.”

    
Her mouth pulls down and her face betrays an array of confusing expressions before settling on a wide, doe-eyed expression, like she might give to a wounded deer.  That can’t be good, what has she convinced herself of now?

    
“Why are you staring at me like that?”  I take another bite.

    
Her eyes pinch tight, almost shrewdly.  “If you took this Roxel person out of the equation, would you still want to kill me?”

    
I’m so startled by her words, I almost choke.  I stare at her, uncertain where such a question came from.  Why does it matter?  Really, I suppose it does, because without Roxel and her roses…I wouldn’t want to kill Jeanette at all.  She is, after all, my Lovely.   Part of me knows I should take the heart now, but for some reason I can’t bring myself to hurt her.  Something deep inside refuses.  She’s too mesmerizing to kill.  I want her to live almost as much as she wants to live…At least a little while longer.  Perhaps until I understand
what
about her stills my hand in the first place.  “No.”

    
A long breath escapes her, and her gaze drops to the floor.  She nods to herself, as if making some kind of decision.  Then, her brows pucker and she looks up at me again.  “Why are you wearing that?” Her voice is between panic and anger.

    
I glance at my school outfit.  “I'm going with you to school.”  Doesn't she understand I can't let anything happen to that heart while it’s caged in her chest? 

    
She glares at me.  “Look, you can't just waltz in and expect to start going to school.”

    
Before I open my mouth to retort, she launches into a lecture.  “You need all sorts of legal documents – like transcripts from your other schools and immunization records.  Do
Aos Si
even get shots?  Probably not if you don’t get sick.  Do they go to school?  And you need a mailing address in this town.  You can't tell them to send paper airplanes to Neverland.”

    
“I don't live in Neverland,” I interrupt.  “I live beyond the
sidhe
, in Otherworld.”

    
“What's a shee?”

    
“A
sidhe
is a hill.  I am one of the
Aos Si
, a Hill Dweller. 
Fear-sidhe
are males and
bean-sidhe
are females.”

    
Her nose wrinkles.  “Hill Dweller?  Is that some sort of tribe?”

    
“No, that’s what
Aos Si
means.  It's a species – the one that rules Otherworld.  Remember?  We've gone over this already.”

    
“Riiiiggghhht.”  The sarcasm exuding from her could be spread thickly over toast.  “Yeah, still not sold on the whole faerie thing.  You show me magic and then I’ll believe in faeries.  Besides, Otherworld?  Is that even in the United States?”

    
I humor her sarcasm.  “I think it’s technically another dimension.”

    
“Oh right, a parallel universe.  Oops, guess someone left the
Subtle Knife
lying around again.”  Jeanette rolls her eyes.  “Either way, Will Parry, you definitely don't belong anywhere in
this
school district.”

    
Ignoring half of what she said (because I’m certain she’s trying to goad me by calling me the wrong name – yet again), I say, “I was under the impression that yours was a private school.  There are private schools for all sorts of strange things in the books you read.”

    
Her throat catches in a silent hiccup. 
Hah, I knew it was a good idea to look at those books.
  She bites her lip and I see her mind working to find some other way to prove that I can't go to school with her.  She already has.  I hadn't known I needed to provide documentation.  I thought it would be enough to look like I belonged there.

    
“Well,” she begins, “can you afford to go to a private school?  It does cost a lot of money to go to Mary Magda.  Did you know that?”  Her voice is coated in all sorts of honey, like she knows it would be impossible to ask Roxel for human currency.  I could ask Leah, but it would cost me more than double the worth of the human money.

    
I don't answer.  Part of me wants to smack the smug look off her face and another part of me is swelling with an odd sort of pride in her.  I almost want to...
kiss her
.  Kiss her?  This prude, annoying human?  What a crazy idea.  Why would I want to do that? 
Because you can’t stop staring at her.
  Because she’s Lovely.

    
“I'll take that as a no.  I’m taking a shower.”  Jeanette turns and then thinks better of it.  “And don’t get any ideas about showing up in the bathroom again, okay?  You’ll be in so much trouble if I see you.”  She leaves and I don’t dare follow her.

    
I'm already in trouble.  Doesn't she understand?  If I can't replace that rose before Roxel notices it's gone, then I'm a very dead Summer knight. 

    
I take a long breath and let it out slowly.  Desperate times call for desperate measures.  It's time to cash in a few favors and make some long avoided
sidhe-
calls.  I examine the clock on Jeanette’s bedside table.  Six-thirty human time.  Jeanette will be away for about eight hours.  That gives me a few days on Otherworld time.  I'll have to work fast.

    
Grabbing the remaining pancakes off the plate, I head toward the window.  As I jump for the closest limb on the sycamore, Jeanette's disgust with me weasels into my chest. 
She won't like you any more for doing this.  You know that, right?
  I know.  In her eyes I'll be even more riddled with mythical diseases.  But how else can I get what I need in order to stay with her in school?

    
Growling to myself, I push Jeanette's opinion of me out of my mind.  Why should I care?

Jeanette

     Tamrin was, thank God, not there when I came out of the shower this morning, and didn’t make an appearance at school today.  Maybe he finally got the hint and went back to whatever land of make-believe he came from.  I shuffle to the bus, knowing Dad won’t be home until after the chorus concert this evening.  He's got to make an appearance at most school events.

    
Emily comes up beside me looking surprised.  “Hey Nett, where are you going?”       “Home,” I groan.  “No social interaction means no catching a ride home with Celeste like normal.  So, I have to take the bus.”

    
She plops down beside me.  “Are you okay?  You’ve been acting really weird the last few days.”

    
Should I tell Em about Tamrin?  Should I make her worry?  Maybe not…  She’ll want me to call the police, which I’ve decided against, although I know I should.

    
If I’m right, and Tamrin’s actually the one that’s having hallucinations, then I kind of want to help him.  He doesn’t have a mom or dad.  No one to care about him.  What does that mean?  He’s an orphan?  A runaway?  Has he been living like a wild child in Caver Hall Park?  No, he said Roxel raised him…A faerie queen?  Is Roxel a figment of his imagination?  Imaginary mother and lover and rule maker? 

    
He said it’s Roxel’s fault that he wants to hurt me.  And if she isn’t real then he’s not really a threat to me or Dad, right?  So, if Tamrin is as harmless as I’m beginning to feel, it seems cruel to send him to the loony bin.  In my mind, I can’t help but think of him as a stray.  If I call animal control, they’ll put him in the pound…They euthanize the unadoptable ones. 

    
Emily’s eyes are still on me, still waiting…

    
Can I really live with myself if I put him where they’ll strap him down and pump him full of drugs for the rest of his life?  That seems cruel…I know it’s not okay to accept him for how he is, but what if I could help him?  Be a friend?  I like the idea of being the friend he needs, of being able to finally save someone.  He needs someone other than this imaginary Roxel person.  I’ve always worried that I’m not a good enough friend.  Letting go of Timmy in the park, missing Amber’s meet…

    
No, I can’t tell Emily about Tamrin.  “I’m bummed about being grounded, you know?”

    
“You're still serving time?”

    
I shrug.  “This,” I point to the seat we're sitting in, “is the tip of the iceberg.  I've got more than a month of this to look forward to.”

    
Emily looks distressed.  “Omigod, your dad's still going to let you go to AniCon isn't he?”

    
I freeze.  “Oh,” I gasp.  “I-I don't know.”  CRAP CRAP CRAP!  If I can't go to my yearly anime convention I'll die.  And that makes me an even worse friend!  Now I can’t go with Em!  I give Emily a pained face.

    
She holds up hands tipped in bright yellow nail polish with black stripes.  “Don't panic.  We'll think of something.  Be super-angelic and maybe you'll get off on good behavior.”

    
I stare at my best friend.  “Yeah, right!”  Dad will never do that and she knows it.  Maybe if I explain I've already spent money on tickets?  No, he won't care.  At least I had the early bird discount. 
Stupid Spanish
.  “I think the only way to get out of my grounding is to magically become fluent in Spanish,” I grumble.

    
Emily's expression becomes determined and she stops pulling her blond hair into a ponytail.  “Okay.  I'm sending you as many Spanish dubbed episodes of
Wolf's Rain
as I can download.  We'll start you on Emily's instant immersion program.  Guaranteed to teach you conversational anything in twenty seasons or less.”

    
I can't help but smile.  If only Japanese were offered as a language option at Mary Magda, we'd be honors students.  “Dad took the laptop.”

    
Emily's face falls.  She scratches her pointed nose and squints at me through silver-rimmed glasses.  “This sucks, Nett.”

    
“Yeah, tell me about it,” I mutter.  Not only am I being stalked by a crazy man, but I suck at Spanish and I'm grounded and can't go to AniCon.

    
I put my forehead on the ridged brown seat in front of me and try not to cry.

    
When I get home, everything is so still and silent I have to glance around the downstairs to make sure I'm in the right house.  It takes me a moment to realize it's so quiet because Neko-Neko isn't weaving around my feet and yowling to be fed.