“But?”
He smiled as I said it before he did. “But we might not always be. I’ve changed over the years. Same spots, as you’re always saying, but a different leopard underneath them. You’ve changed as well. You’re darker. You’ve lost. You’re not as cocky. You know now that things aren’t always as you thought they’d be. That the world still holds mystery and the unpredictable, even for us. Griffin and Zeke taught you that.”
He touched my jaw with callused fingers and kissed me, and it was all pleasure this time. No pain. No thought. Only the pressure of lips, the silk of tongue, the warmth of skin. Our first kiss, but it was as intimate as if we’d done it thousands of times before. It was like watching your favorite movie or reading your favorite book over and over and discovering something new. Something bright and dark, joyful and melancholy, all at once.
I was proud to be a trickster, but it was also good to be this—a silver point of light high and blazing in the apricot and violet morning sky, a moment that seemed as long as my life. Then the kiss ended; the morning star fell, as it always did. Leo carefully folded my fingers over the feather. “A token of my future esteem. Someday, if we’re ever less alike than more, give this back to me.”
Waiting was hard, not knowing for certain even more so. It could be years. It could be never. It could be the best thing that happened to me, but then again, Leo already was the best thing to happen to me. No matter if we changed or if we didn’t, that wouldn’t. Couldn’t. A book, written not that long ago from my perspective, said a wise thing. It applied to burning down demon nightclubs, to avenging brothers, and it applied now.
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.
So elegant, so true, that even a
païen
like me could appreciate it, embrace it.
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.
I broke a lifetime of habit to give that wise saying what it deserved.
Amen.
Amen.
Look for Rob Thurman’s next
Cal Leandros novel,
ROADKILL
“Thurman continues to deliver strong tales of dark urban fantasy.”—SFRevu
“A subtly warped world compellingly built by Thurman. . . . The combination of Chandleresque detective dialogue and a lyrically noir style of description are stunningly original.”—The Green Man Review
Coming in March 2010 from Roc
About the Author
Rob, short for Robyn (yes, he is really a she) Thurman lives in Indiana, land of rolling hills and cows, deer, and wild turkeys. Many, many turkeys. She is also the author of the Cal Leandros series:
Nightlife
,
Moonshine
,
Madhouse
, and
Deathwish
; has a story in the anthology
Wolfsbane and Mistletoe
; and is the author of
Trick of the Light
, the first book in the Trickster series.
Besides wild, ravenous turkeys, she has a dog (if you don’t have a dog, how do you live?)—one hundred pounds of Siberian husky. He looks like a wolf, has paws the size of a person’s hand, ice blue eyes, teeth out of a Godzilla movie, and the ferocious habit of hiding under the kitchen table and peeing on himself when strangers come by. Fortunately, she has another dog that is a little more invested in keeping the food source alive. By the way, the dogs were adopted from shelters. They were fully grown, already house-trained, and grateful as hell. Think about it next time you’re looking for a Rover or Fluffy.
For updates, teasers, deleted scenes, and various other extras, visit the author at
www.robthurman.netand
at her LiveJournal.