Silver (16 page)

TWENT
Y
-SIX

I should know better than to let Christy talk me into going out tonight. She claims to be over Jonah, but I know that part of her is still hoping he'll call. At least she's finally convinced that he's not going to be the great love of her life. That doesn't stop her from wanting him to want her, if only so she can be the one to walk away. That's the explanation she gives me anyway, as we pull into the parking lot of Magic Beans. We both know that if Jonah calls her she'll be rushing out to meet him, her memory conveniently lapsed until his next indiscretion.

Here's the thing. I'm probably more anxious to see Jonah than Christy will ever be. Every time she mentions his name, I feel a jolt of fiery rage mixed with ice-cold certainty that I can't let the attack on Dart go unchecked. The hot-cold dichotomy creates a fog that obscures rational thought; everything is blurred but the razor-sharp clarity that Jonah will pay.

But I can't tell Christy any of it. Just like I can't tell Haley that Austin is some kind of powerful creature who can bring back animals from the dead. I wouldn't know where to start.

Christy reaches under her seat and pulls out a thick volume with frayed edges, and I'm brought back to the moment.

“Tell me that's not what I think it is.”

She smiles for the first time since she picked me up. “You're not still freaked out about the whole witchcraft thing? It's not like I'm going to make you do the spell, after you fainted and everything. I can do this one by myself.”

I grab the book from her, my hand shaking slightly. It's not like the last spell worked. I mean, Christy and Jonah weren't exactly a match for the ages. And I know I wasn't imagining Austin flirting with me today; Haley's romance can't be going anywhere good. And then there's me and Blake. Talk about a disaster.

The book is heavier than it looks, and I nearly drop it.

“Careful!” Christy reaches between us. “Delia will kill me if something happens to this. She swears it's the real deal.”

“She probably bought it at a swap meet for ten bucks. I wouldn't worry about it too much if I were you.”

Christy snatches the book back. “Just because you don't believe in magic doesn't mean it's not real.”

I almost laugh. Christy uses the occult the same way I use science, as an escape from the truth she's not ready to face.

I trail after Christy as she walks through the coffee shop. Matt grins at her from behind the counter. “Sunshine. Light. A face that brightens a room with a smile.”

Christy waves and walks right past him. Matt fumbles with a carton of soy milk, splashing some on his blue apron. I don't bother saying hello. He may be a dork, but he's still a guy. My invisibility doesn't discriminate.

I follow Christy to a table in the corner. She already has the stupid book open and is flipping through it in earnest.

Haley comes out of Kimmy's office and walks toward us. “Cracking a book twice in three weeks has got to be some kind of record, right?” She gives me a hug, silently confirming that we're still okay.

“I found the perfect spell for Jonah.” Christy looks up, eyes shining.

“Don't tell me you're even thinking of trying to get him back.” Haley looks like she's ready to tackle Christy, if that's what it takes.

“Not even close.” Christy points to the open page in front of her. “I'm going to banish him.”

“What?” Haley and I say it in unison.

“There's a spell to banish your enemies. To trap their souls in the underworld.”

Haley twists a long lock of blond hair. “Doesn't that seem a little extreme?”

Christy doesn't waiver. “After he hit on Brianna?” Her voice shakes a little on my name, and I know she wants revenge for more than just me. It's an effort not to tell her I've got it covered. But who am I to stop her from getting her own peace of mind? And if his soul is banished in the process, it's a bonus.

I take a seat next to Christy. “Let's do it.”

Haley's eyes widen until she looks like a manga version of herself. “Seriously? I thought you didn't like this whole witchcraft thing. Aren't you the one who fainted last time?”

Christy brushes back a black wisp of hair from her eyes. “It's not like Jonah's soul had a chance anyway. He was already an evil bastard when we met him.”

Haley sits down. “I thought you were only going to do white magic.”

“This is white magic. We're ridding the earth of some serious evil.” Christy shifts in her chair even as she tries to sound confident. “That's as good as it gets, right?”

Haley flashes me a skeptical glance. “You're not going to pass out again, are you?”

“No,” I say, but I have no idea what to expect. Nana believed magic in my hands was dangerous, but I doubt this spell could be more dangerous than what I have in mind for Jonah. If there's a chance that Jonah could be banished with magic, it would be better for everyone.

Christy takes my hand and reaches out to Haley with the other. We hold hands in a circle. Haley squeezes my hand as Christy reads from the book.

“
Bane of all that is true. Come out of the weeds. Make your last strike. Your time on earth is at an end. A thousand years of otherworldly night.
”

I don't feel dizzy. At first, nothing is out of place. It's not until I realize that I can no longer hear Matt cleaning up behind the counter, or even Christy as she repeats the spell, that my pulse kicks into overdrive. The fact that the room is devoid of sound is the only warning I get before the entire room goes pitch black.

Crap. It occurs to me, too late, that
I
might be considered an evil creature who should be banished from earth, and I wonder if the spell really did work. But then the room comes back into focus, everything and everyone immobile, lost in silence.

I wait for something to happen. For someone to move in the stillness. At first there's nothing, just a frozen moment in time, stretching into a hollow void.

The movement comes from behind me. I let go of Haley and Christy's hands and get up from the table. When I turn around, everyone remains still. Matt's hand hovers over a notepad, his eyes locked on Christy even as his pen presses the paper.

There's a flash of silver dancing in the air to his left. Then the fairy tale princess is there, her indigo eyes sparkling.

“Are you Danu?” I ask as she walks toward me, her arms outstretched.

“So you know me now, do you? A short-lived peace, then.”

“What do you want from me?” It comes out as a stutter.

“That is the curse of being both beautiful and
powerful, isn't it? Everyone wants something from you.” Her smile is sad. I notice that she doesn't deny she wants something. “Come with me.”

She takes my hands and there's another flash of silver light. The coffee shop falls away, and we stand in a damp green field. An icy wind blows around us, and I recognize the large, moss-covered rocks that seem to grow right out of the ground.

“Better,” she says, turning her face up to the gathering clouds. Thunder rolls across the sky in the distance.

“Why are we here?” I ask.

She sighs. “You are the seventh generation of the Seventh Daughters. Your destiny has been foretold.”

I'm not sure how to tell her that I've never really believed in destiny. I try anyway. “I'm more of a ‘from chaos comes order,' logic-and-reason kind of girl.” As I say the words, I almost believe them.

She laughs. “You don't believe in fate?”

My answer is quick. “How can anything be fated when there are infinite choices? The mathematical probabilities are against it.” It's a perfectly rational thought, but sounds hollow even to me. What if I can't stop what's coming?

“Perhaps your choices are just different paths, all leading to the same place.”

I wait for her to say more. She doesn't.

“So what's my fate, then?” At least I'll see it coming.

Her eyes are weary. “The war with the Sons ends with you.”

That doesn't sound so bad. Promising, even. “That's good, right?”

Danu looks off into the distance. A huge wire-haired dog lopes down the hill toward us. She eyes it warily. “Not necessarily.”

“Since when is the end to a war a bad thing?”

She takes my hand again. “When you're on the losing side.”

As the dog gets closer, I see it's some type of wolfhound. It's even bigger than it looked from a distance, its lips curled back to reveal sharp teeth. A long line of drool hangs from its lower lip.

Danu squeezes my hand just as a flash of lightning streaks across the sky. I blink, and then I'm back in the coffee shop, still sitting at the table, hands joined with Christy and Haley.

Christy finishes the spell, smiling across the table from me. “See? It's no big deal, right?”

I laugh. I can't stop.

“What?” Christy lets go of my hand, not hiding her hurt expression.

How do I begin to explain the bizarre series of events that is now my life? Me, the girl for whom every question had a rational answer. “I'm sorry, Christy. I'm not laughing at you.” I struggle to come up with a credible lie. “I was just imagining what Jonah was doing when he got zapped.”

Christy smiles. “I hope we ruined a date with that Parker girl.”

Haley doesn't laugh. She's watching me closely, still holding my hand. “Did something feel weird to you?”

“When?”

“During the spell. For a second, I don't know, it just felt weird. And I thought I saw something. Like a bright light. Did you see it?”

I shake my head, but the movement feels transparent even as I do it.

Haley takes the book from Christy and starts flipping through it.

Christy stands up and stretches. I don't have to look to know that Matt is staring at her from across the room. “I feel better already.”

“What do you think of Matt?” I ask Christy.

She shrugs. “He's cute. Kind of like a bohemian puppy.” This sounds like a compliment, but coming from Christy, it's the death knell to any future romance. Christy doesn't date puppies. She prefers wolves.

Haley looks up from the book. I know I should say something about Austin, but I'm not sure what I should say exactly. It's not like I can tell her that her boyfriend has some kind of freaky powers. But since he brought my horse back from the dead, there's probably nothing to worry about.

Then there's the part where I'm pretty sure he wanted to hook up with me. There's no good way to tell her that.

“What?” Haley's turquoise eyes look right through me, like she knows I'm keeping secrets and she's just waiting for me to cave.

“Can I see the book?” I take it from her and place it in my bag. Maybe Christy will forget about it if it disappears for a while.

I head over to the counter. I have to tap Matt on the shoulder to get his attention. He's about to look away, but I grab his arm. “You know Christy, right?”

“Huh?” His eyes find her automatically, though it's got to be hard for him to see through his combed-forward and sprayed layers of hair. “Why? Did she say something?”

It's weird to hear Matt talking in English as opposed to Haiku. “Not exactly. Have you ever broken a girl's heart before?” I don't know why I bother asking. It's pretty unlikely that Matt has even had a girlfriend. Girls like tortured artists and all, but somehow I don't think there's a large pool of spoken word groupies.

He's still watching Christy. “What kind of question is that?”

“I don't know. Could you try being more of an asshole?”

“Why would I do that?”

“I'm trying to help you out here.” I don't know how to explain it. “Just forget I said anything.”

I'm about to walk away when Matt stops me. “Wait. Are you saying that Christy would like me better if I wasn't so—”

“Nice.” We both say at once. He actually looks at me then and for a second it feels like he might even see me.

His lips curve into a goofy smile. “I might be able to do the whole bad-boy thing.”

Christy and Haley walk up behind me. “Did you order the usual?” Haley asks.

Matt's expression changes when he sees Christy. For a second his eyes go all googly, and then I can practically see him remember. He glares from across the counter. Well, he tries to glare. Mostly he narrows his eyes and looks like he's going to throw up.

“Are you okay?” Christy asks.

“Who's asking?” Oh God. Matt does a bad New York accent. Like he's seen one too many mafia movies.

Christy steps back. “Why are you talking so weird?” It's saying something that Matt's gangster voice is stranger than speaking in verse.

Matt curls his upper lip. “If you don't like it, you can go screw yourself.”

Christy's jaw drops, her lips curving into an O.

I try not to laugh, but a snort comes out anyway. Haley steps behind the counter and starts making our drinks, since it's obvious that gangster Matt isn't going to do it. Christy grabs my arm and guides me over to the stuffed cow.

“Omigod,” she says, her voice a hurried whisper. “Remember how you were asking me about Matt earlier?”

I nod.

“Don't you think he's kind of hot?”

This time it's my mouth that falls open.

TW
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I call Marcy twice to check up on Dart while Christy flirts with Matt at the counter and Haley gets stuck making coffee for a group of U.R.D. students who come in for the two-for-one lattes.

For now, I have a moment of peace. No crazy attraction to boys who can only cause me heartache, no homicidal demigods, and not a drop of blood in sight. If it weren't for the pang of emptiness in my gut, I could almost believe that the world is normal.

The pain in my stomach eases and I know I'm not alone anymore. I stare down at my coffee, wanting to preserve the illusion of normalcy for just a few seconds more. The warm thrum that fills me isn't entirely unwelcome, but it also means that I have to stop pretending.

Blake sits across from me without saying a word, casting a shadow across my coffee.

“How'd you find me?” I ask, still not looking up.

“It's not so hard these days. Like having built-in GPS.”

I meet his gaze then, struck by his perfect bone structure and seductive smile. Not that I'm complaining. I mean, if I have to be wrapped up with someone like this, it doesn't hurt that he's beautiful. And I might even like him a little bit. Something else to torture myself about if I end up killing him.

“So you can find me? Just like that?”

He shrugs. “I'm here, aren't I?”

“Can I do the same thing?”

He sits back in his chair, his knee touching mine under the table. “I don't know. Have you ever tried?” I shake my head, trying to ignore the rush of longing that accompanies the contact with his leg. Blake runs a hand through his hair. “I guess we should talk.”

Does he know about Dart already? About Austin? Does he know I plan to kill Jonah? Maybe he's here to talk me out of it. “Can it wait?” I ask. “I kind of like pretending that my life is completely normal.”

Blake crosses his arms and very deliberately pulls his leg away from mine. “You shouldn't bother. There's nothing normal about you.”

I take a sip of my latte. “You really do need to work on your moves.”

His answering smile is meant to placate me. “You keep saying that, but I think I'm doing all right.”

“On what planet is calling a girl abnormal considered smooth?”

He sets his chin in his hands. “When I said you aren't normal, I meant that you are extraordinary.”

“Oh.” Our eyes hold for a minute, and I have to stop myself from reaching out to touch him again.

Blake stands up, rubbing his hands across the denim that covers his thighs. “You want to get out of here? There's something I want to show you.”

I glance back to where Christy is laughing at something Matt said. My work here is done.

We drive toward the beach. “Back to the scene of the crime?”

“Something like that.”

I keep sneaking glimpses of Blake. I don't feel the rush of heat and anger that I'd expected. Maybe it's because Dart is alive. Maybe it's because Blake isn't Jonah. Still, I know better than to trust that I won't find myself consumed with a heady mix of power and rage at some point. It's like there's a bomb ticking away somewhere deep inside me. Too bad there's no digital readout of the countdown, so I'll know when it's going to detonate.

We get out of the car and walk along the base of the cliff. The firepit is a dark pile of ash, barely visible in the moonlight. We stop in front of it.

“Do you trust me?” Blake asks.

“I'm not sure. I want to.”

“I wanted to show you this when we came here before.” He blushes. “We got a little distracted.” He walks up to the small crevice in the cliff and sticks his arm inside. He ducks and disappears into the side of the cliff.

“Blake?”

“Just try it,” he says from somewhere on the other side, though he sounds far way.

I inspect the cliff more closely. The crack can't be more than six inches wide at the widest point. And it doesn't appear to go anywhere. I can't see anything but rock. “How did you do that?”

“You just have to trust it.”

I tentatively stick a hand inside the crack. It fits well enough. I push my arm in further, stopping when I feel Blake's fingers close around my wrist.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

He pulls me to him, letting his arms close around me.

The air changes. The heavy ocean breeze disappears altogether, chased away by a bone-chilling wind. I hear water, but it's no longer the rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the beach—it's the steady pounding of a rushing river.

Blake steps behind me, his hands clasped around my waist. “Whenever you're ready,” he says.

I open my eyes, fighting a wave of nausea. We're standing on a stark bluff, flat gray rock under our feet. The cliff we came through is a barren wall of rock behind us. At least fifty feet below, water rushes over rocks and stones, moonlight reflecting off the surface. Across the river is another rocky cliff, and behind it, more stark walls of rock, with waterfalls that carry more water down to the river. It's a bleak and unforgiving landscape, and it's breathtaking.

“Where are we?”

Blake leans over my shoulder. “I have no idea.”

“You don't know?”

“I've been here a hundred times, and I'm not any closer to figuring it out than the first time I discovered it.”

“How did you find it?”

“Promise not to laugh?”

I nod.

“I come to the beach a lot. I run in the dark along the cliffs, as fast as I want. One night I ran right up to the cliff and couldn't stop in time. I thought I was going to eat it. Instead, I went right through.”

“It's amazing. Why did you want to show me?”

“I guess I just wanted someone else to see this.”

“It's beautiful.” It's true. Stark, cold, barren, but all of it works together to create a sense of awe.

We sit down on a large flat boulder and watch the river rush by for a while. I fold my knees up to my chest. “We need to talk.”

“Do we have to do this now?” he asks, not as eager as he appeared at the coffee shop.

“Dart was attacked today.”

“Dart?”

“My horse. His throat was cut.”

“You're sure?”

He can't hide the shock in his eyes. He didn't know. I let out a breath. There's a certain relief knowing that Blake
wasn't involved in the attack. As if I couldn't be sure until now.

“Marcy thought it was a mountain lion.”

I feel the hope rise in his chest. “Was it?”

I shake my head. “It was Jonah.”

“You're sure?”

“The cuts were jagged, like Jonah's knife. And Jonah was there, with Parker.” I feel tears welling up as I remember Dart lying on the floor of the stall. “I know it was Jonah.” And I'm going to kill him.

Blake reaches out to rub my shaking shoulders. “I'm sorry, but let's think about this. Jonah's a hothead, but it still doesn't sound like something he would do. He attacked you because it's what he's trained for. He believes in the war against magic. He wouldn't have any reason to hurt your horse, unless your horse is some kind of magic creature. He's not, is he?”

I pull away from him. “Don't defend Jonah. I saw him just before it happened. He meant to hurt me. It was in his eyes.” My anger mixes with Blake's emotion, which feels something like compassion. It doesn't help. I don't want Blake's sympathy. I want to be angry. I need to be, to do what I have to do.

“I won't defend him, Brianna. Don't you get it yet?” Blake's eyes sparkle, not with otherworldly silver but with something far more potent. “I will always choose you. I already have.” His lips curve into a melancholy smile and my heart feels like it will break in two.

I finally loosen my grip on the dark emotions I've held so tightly since this afternoon. I let myself feel what he feels. The certainty. I grab onto it for dear life. It's the only thing keeping me from being sucked into a pit of Dart's crimson blood.

He brushes my cheek with his fingertips. “I know you haven't made up your mind about any of this.” My skin heats beneath his touch. It's a stark contrast to the cold air that moves around us.

“What if I can't stop it? What if I end up killing you? It feels so much bigger than me sometimes. I don't know if I'll even have a choice.” I finally admit the truth. To him. To myself.

“You always have choices, Brianna. No one can take that from you. You're the only one who can decide
how
this ends.”

How, not whether. “It has to end though, doesn't it?”

I hate that I even think this now. What if no matter what I choose, all paths are taking me to the same place?

Blake doesn't say anything at first. He leans forward and presses his lips to my forehead. Gently, so I feel just the lightest sweep of his lips against my skin. Then he lets his head fall until his forehead rests against my own. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

I bring my hand to his mouth, tracing the line of his lips with my fingertip. His mouth opens, just enough for the tip of his tongue to tease the pad of my finger, sending a shock of fire through my skin until every part of my body is heated through. I trail my finger down his chin to his neck, to the opening at the collar of his shirt. His breath is coming harder, mirroring my own.

Then his hand closes around my wrist, stopping me. “Are you sure?” he asks, as if he can't feel the answering desire that rages inside me, mixing with his own.

I cover his hand and reach for my bracelet. I undo the clasp and let it fall on the rock. “What do you think?”

His sucks in a breath. “You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?”

I close the tiny distance between us until our lips meet. His mouth covers mine, and then we're lying back on the boulder. The cold stone against my back only serves to intensify the fire inside as we kiss.

I pull Blake closer, my hands wrapping around him, every touch calculated to bring him nearer. I curl a leg around his thigh, pressing, pulling, pushing against him.

The heat of his skin comes through his shirt, and the fabric becomes an intolerable intrusion. He helps me pull the shirt over his head, and it's my turn to gasp. My fingers slide from his neck to his belly button, forging a tentative path along his stomach. “You know you're kind of beautiful yourself.”

“You think so?” A dimple appears on his cheek. He kisses me again. A deep kiss that spreads through me until I'm not certain where my craving stops and Blake's begins. We are of one mind, pushing each other forward, so that
for a few minutes at least, we might both be blissfully whole.

“Ahem.”

We both sit up and spin toward the sound. Austin stands just in front of us, his hands nestled casually in the front pockets of his jeans, his lips curved up in a crooked smile. “Mind if I join you?” His perfect accent makes the question sound almost innocent.

Almost.