Shine (35 page)

What would I be doing? Teaching science at some university in America? Or at a high school? Scampering off to PTA meetings? Blech.

Separate, our lives seemed so mundane. Together, we could travel the world, have adventures, unravel mysteries beyond the Shift, in Egypt, Indonesia, Australia, Peru. Anywhere. Meld our minds and bodies, feed our hunger for answers and each other’s touch. Carve out a shared destiny, not the one others had declared for us.

The future seemed so close. If I could reach out and grab it, I would guard it with my life.

U
sing my red phone, I called Gina from the car to thank her for the birthday gift. In ten minutes, she told me she missed me approximately eleven hundred times.

Megan was at my house, as planned, so she could talk to me. In addition to a music download gift card, she’d made me two post-sex playlists,
Songs of Innocence
and
Songs of Experience
, after the William Blake poetry collections.

Songs of Innocence
was romantic and earnest, to be heard after the first time I did it. The raunchier
Songs of Experience
was to be heard after the first time I loved it.

“Have you played the first one yet?” she asked. Code so that Gina wouldn’t know what we were talking about.

“Last night.” I gave Zachary a secretive glance, which he returned. He knew about the playlists.

“And the second one?”

I sighed. “A few hours ago.”

She let out a yip. “I’m so happy for you. That you loved the second playlist,” she added quickly.

“I loved it a lot. You know, that one was longer than I expected.” I grinned, watching Zachary blush.

“Are we talking time-wise?” Megan said.

I replayed my words, and now I was the one blushing. “Yes. Well—yes.” I covered my burning face while Zachary and Megan laughed at me. “I have to go die of embarrassment now.”

Megan snorted. “You’re being careful, right? With, you know, driving?”

Gina spoke in the background. “I am not stupid. I know what you girls are talking about.”

Kill me now.
“Yes, careful. Jeez, wait’ll I tell you how careful we’ve had to be.” I was carrying our new box of condoms in my purse—we didn’t want them out of our presence for a minute.

“Can’t wait,” Megan said. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” I looked at Zachary while I spoke. “But not enough to want to come home.”

“Hang on,” she said. “I’m going in the other room.”

Zachary pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant where we were having our special birthday dinner. “I can go get a table if you want to talk to her alone.”

I sent him a grateful smile as he left the car.

“Okay,” Megan said, and I could tell her hand was cupped around the receiver. “You don’t want to come home? Like, ever?”

“I totally see what my mom meant in her journal, about Ireland being magical. Why would anyone want to leave?”

“Things are still better here.”

“Even with the draft?”

“I don’t know. Aura, do what makes you happy, but do it for yourself. Don’t do it for a guy.”

“You know me better than that. Megan, I need to ask you something weird. When you and Mickey did it, did you feel like you were in another place?”

“You mean like fantasizing we were on the beach instead of the back of his car?”

“I don’t mean fantasies. Somewhere totally different.”

She paused. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. But I’m sort of insanely jealous. You were, like, transported or something on just your second time?”

“The first time, too. It was cosmic. I know it sounds all New Agey, but that’s the only word that fits.”

“Aura, that’s almost unbelievable. Except, I know you two, and I know about the power-mingling and the First and Last thing. I felt your connection the first time you met in the courtyard at school.”

“You felt that?”

“Please. I wanted to give you guys bibs for your drool.” She sighed. “Maybe you should stay there. You’ve found where you belong. Most people never get that lucky their whole lives.”

The front door of the restaurant opened, and Zachary stepped out under the awning.

“I gotta go,” I told Megan.

“Yes, you do,” she said. “You absolutely do.”

After dinner and a long night of live pub music, we drove to a secluded area near the coastal village of Clogherhead. When we stepped out of the car, I almost forgot what I’d come for.

“The sky!” I pointed to the crystal black expanse above us, then spied the North Star, Polaris, much higher than I’d ever seen it. “I forgot the stars would be in different places.”

“Did you really?”

“No.” I grinned at Zachary over the roof of the car. “That was one of the things I was looking forward to most. Does that make me horribly geeky?”

“You’re asking the wrong person.”

“Hey, have you ever seen the aurora borealis?”

He gazed at me. “Not with you.”

My skin warmed at his implication: It wouldn’t count until I was with him. Everything felt like that now—meteor showers, comets, even sunrises. They’d all be pale and dull if we were apart.

Zachary put his hands in his pockets as he surveyed our surroundings. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Positive. I can help these people. Besides, it might teach us more about the Shift. After what happened yesterday morning at New-grange, obviously there’s tons of stuff we don’t know.”

He gave his I-hate-that-she’s-right-again sigh. “Just in case? I’ve mapped the route to the nearest hospital.”

“Hospitals can’t help shade sickness. It has to wear off.”

“They could give you fluids.”

“If my entire digestive system turns inside out, you mean?” I put a hand to my stomach, as it rolled with anticipation. “You should probably take cover now.”

“Good luck.” He pulled his sleeve down over his hand and reached for me over the car hood. I stretched forward and met his touch with my gloved hand, long enough to feel his warmth. Our eyes met, and in that moment under the north-shifted stars, I’d never felt more hope for our future.

Then he slipped into the backseat, where I covered him from head to toe with a thick black-and-purple blanket we’d bought at a local store. I double-checked that my change of clothes, nausea medicine, and case of bottled water were within easy reach. Who knew what state I’d be in after the shades had gone through me?

I walked toward the rocky shore, following the rumble of the Irish Sea. As I topped a small, sandy hill, a glimmer of violet appeared near the water.

The ghost of what looked like a young woman strolled along the beach, wearing a modest light-colored sundress that fell past her knees. She walked barefoot, swinging her arms in the carefree manner of a summer day.

As if sensing my presence, the woman turned and looked at me. Smiling, I raised my hand in a polite wave. She returned the gesture shyly, then moved on, her steps lighter than before.

My hope grew. If a ghost could stand to look at me, then I wasn’t red at all. It was a relief to know that eight hours away from Zachary’s touch was enough to return me to normal.

I pulled out the list of shades I’d gotten from the DMP website before I left. I’d been paranoid that someone would find the list on me, so I’d written them in code and then transcribed them when I got to Ireland.

It was time.

“Mary Pickering!” I yelled it to the sky. I shouted another name, then opened my mouth to call the third.

It was too late.

Like before, my head and stomach pitched as the screeching shades bore down on me, sounding like the sky ripping down the middle. Like before, blackness shrouded my vision as the shades enveloped me, bringing me to my knees.

But then, everything was different.

The dark energy roiled inside me in a maelstrom of misery, but this time, it didn’t depart. It didn’t stream out, leaving me a sick, empty shell.

It stayed.

On my knees, I stared at the inky, white-capped sea, wondering if I’d ever move again, stand again, breathe again.

But I must have kept breathing, though I felt as dead as the shades that dwelled within me now. I was caught in nothingness, lulled by the waves’ uneven rhythm. I could stay here.

“Aura!”

Zachary’s voice shattered the spell like a sledgehammer into a crystal ball. I covered my ears and screamed.

He called again, closer.

“No …” The pain punctured my ears, scrambling my brain. Now I
had
to move, had to get away.

I sprang to my feet and ran. When my boots met sand, I stumbled, but his voice rang out again, panicky. I threw my weight forward, hoping my feet would catch me. If I reached the water, I could put my head under to drown out his voice.

He grabbed me from behind, his fingers like hot pokers. I shrieked and struggled to get away, but he held fast.

“Aura, stop! What are you doing?”

I spiked my boot heel onto the top of Zachary’s foot. He cried out, and his grip loosened enough for me to slip my arms out of my coat.

I kept running. Icy water splashed under my feet.

“I won’t let you go!” He tackled me, dragging me into the cold sea. I punched and kicked, but he held on, wrapping me in my own coat so I couldn’t get my arms up.

“Aura, Aura, Aura. It’s me. It’s Zachary. Aura, stay with me. Please.”

The pain crescendoed, then exploded through my whole body.

Then at last, there was nothing but darkness.

I
woke in the backseat, unable to move. The car was driving fast and jerky, and my head lolled around on my neck. I groaned at the ache it caused.

“Sorry,” Zachary said. “I couldn’t chance you hurting yourself, or—”

“Shut up!” Tears squeezed from my eyes, from the pain in my head and the hurt I knew I was causing him. I turned my face to the window so I couldn’t see him.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered. “Just tell me what happened.”

“The shades stuck. Inside me.”

“Christ …”

“Don’t talk! Please. It hurts.”

I squirmed, trying to free my hands, then realized he’d put his jacket on me backward, wrapped the sleeves around me like in a strait-jacket, then somehow fastened them in the back.

He spoke softly. “We’ll go back to the castle. I’ll sleep on the balcony.”

His words came as a relief. I needed to get out of his sight, but I didn’t trust myself. I’d almost taken my own life at the beach just now. What if the shades made me take someone else’s?

When we got to the castle, I staggered upstairs ahead of Zachary so I wouldn’t have to see his face. Our room was empty and untouched.

I lay on the bed and curled into a ball, as every muscle knotted up in pain.

Zachary took something from the wardrobe and then the sofa. I knew he was sleeping on the balcony not just to be out of my sight, but to block my path in case I decided to throw myself off.

I loved him so much, even as the things inside me hated him. So much.

He opened the balcony doors, slipped outside without a word, then shut the doors behind him.

The relief was instant. My muscles untied themselves and relaxed into the mattress. After a few minutes, I could finally think straight.

The shades had entered me, and they’d gotten trapped. Why? I hadn’t bothered the ghost woman on the beach, so I couldn’t have been red from kissing Zachary hours earlier.

Zachary. The mere thought of him cast a shadow of pain over me. I tried to remember the happy times, but the shades had thrown a dark veil over my memory. I saw faint outlines of moments—sitting beneath the stars, kissing in the mountain river, making love in this bed.

What if I could never be around him again? And what would happen when I entered a BlackBoxed area—like the airplane, or
every bathroom in the United States
?

I had to get the shades out of me. But to do that, I had to know how they’d gotten stuck in the first place.

What was different between tonight and the September equinox? Besides the country and the company and the air temperature and about a hundred other factors.

Wait. Tonight was the
solstice
, not the equinox. Maybe there was a difference.

I slowly sat up, expecting nausea and dizziness. Oddly, I felt fine, unlike in September when I’d projectile barfed. I walked to the coffee table and picked up one of the research books Zachary had brought.

A half hour later I had scribbled a page of notes. The spring and fall equinoxes, in ancient beliefs, were about balance and movement. Near those dates, the sun’s path through the sky—and the time of sunrise and sunset—changes most rapidly from day to day.