Authors: Kate Wrath
Eden (23 page)
There is the start of a smile on his face, but it withdraws
suddenly along with his hand. He turns his eyes up the stairs. "You
should get some rest," he says. "You'll feel better once you
have."
I consider him momentarily, but it’s like looking at a stone
wall. I sigh. "OK. We can talk about this later." I turn and run
up the stairs. When I look back over my shoulder, Spec is gone.
The cat is snuggled into Jonas' lap when I walk in, and he's
scratching it behind the ears, staring off, obviously lost in thought.
Purring, limp, eyes closed, the animal is completely at ease. Something about
the scene warms my heart and knocks down whatever defenses I've managed to
place.
Jonas looks up at me as I quietly shut the door. He picks
up the cat and dumps it softly on the floor, rising to his feet and walking
toward me.
"Eden," he says softly, reaching out to me.
I shake my head, wanting to avoid this—whatever this is.
It's too much, already. But he's not deflected by my avoidance.
His hands stroke down my upper arms, his voice soft as cat
fur. "I'm sorry," he says, leaning in. "I'm so sorry."
I look up at him now, caught by surprise, mouth open.
"Sometimes I forget how hard it must be for you."
Minute movements of his eyes make them sparkle in the aether light. "I
forget all the things you must be going through."
"We're both going through them." My voice is
small, faint. "It's not just me."
He sighs, his face open, like a relaxed smile. "I know
who I am," he says. "I've had time. You haven't. There's no one
else messing around inside me."
I look down, then back at his face. "This book—"
"No." It's a soft 'no', but a definite one. His
fingers grip my arms tighter, pulling me urgently toward him. "You need
to find Eden," he whispers. "Not Lily."
I stare into his searching eyes, then look away, down.
"Eden doesn't want to be here."
His fingers slacken suddenly, but don't let go.
"...No?"
The touch of pain in his voice is overwhelming. I step into
his chest, wrapping my arms tightly around him, burying my face. The idea of
being away from him is suddenly real, incredibly tangible, and full of all the
pain of being ripped into pieces. "I can't lose you again," I
whisper.
His hands on my shoulders pry me away from him, push me a
step back. "You've never lost me." There is a definite point to his
words. Frustration, quickly stowed away behind his calm expression.
I open my mouth, but there are no words. If there were, I
swallow them.
He starts to say something, tries to say something, but
that, too, falls into the wordless void. He draws me suddenly to him, sighing,
closing his eyes. "You know me," he says. "There's nothing to
us, except what we remember."
But tears are pressing at my eyelids, wiggling their way
into the little hollows near my nose. I place my hands on his chest and push him
away, heading for the bed. "That's easy for you to say." My voice
is flat—so, so flat. "What I would give just to have it all taken away so
easily." I flop down onto the bed, facing away from him. He says
nothing. I pretend to be asleep. And eventually, I am.
***
I awake in the middle of the night to a tickle on my neck.
As my sleepy body becomes aware, I realize I'm tucked under Jonas' arm and he's
pressed up against my back. His nose is buried in my hair. He breathes in
deeply, too deeply, and his breath, coming back out, sends shivers through me
despite the heat of the night. I lay in the dark, registering how tightly his
arm holds me, how his every breath seems to taste the scent of me, and I
realize that it wasn't me, this time, seeking him out after nightmares, needing
comfort. It was him coming to me, wanting to be close to me, however
uncomfortable the heat, however awkward and floundering our conversations.
There is something true here. Something deep and true and
real. If only I could read all the paths, all the directions of this emotion
and trace it back to its roots. If only I could know where this place starts
and stops—where the easy darkness came from. Why, lingering here, we're
untouchable. Unbreakable.
None of that matters right now. Only that it is. I'm not
vulnerable, or maybe I'm
so
vulnerable, and willing to give everything
over. I'm too much for fear. Something inside me is so much more and I can
believe, right now, that nothing is false. I roll over to face him, to snuggle
up against him, half-surprised and delighted to find no shirt between my hands
and his chest. His arms clutch me closer, and my own, for the first time,
embrace him, too. My hand slides over his smooth skin, over his side, along
the line of muscle that runs up his spine, until my hand stops but my fingers
still play across his warm skin.
He tenses and shivers, pulling me closer, closer, until I'm
crushed right into him. And it's not so easy for him, I think, as his chin dips
toward me, then stops, his lips pressing into my forehead. Here is longing and
indecision in him as well. So he's not so free of his past. I recognize
that. I understand it. And I accept it. I delight in being able to offer
some comfort. My arms pull tight around him. We freeze, like there is no
other way to be. No moving forward, and no going back. So we cling to each
other in the darkness, and the heat of him is so much better than any other
heat. I'm full of everything and I'm not trying to sort it out, to decide
which part came from where. I'm not the only one who's lost. He's my
companion in this maze, and that brings me joy. I nuzzle into him, breathing
his scent, pressing my lips into his skin. At the end of the awareness of him
is the deepest, happiest sleep I have ever had.
***
I'm alone in the morning. I hate waking alone, wondering
every time if I have dreamed him. Something about Jonas always feels like a
dream—too good and never quite tangible. It's like I always just glimpse him,
and never get to keep him. Maybe that's how he slips away so easily without
waking me. Maybe he's a dream.
Today, it's probably for the better. Slipping in like
daylight under the curtains is the certainty of what I must do. The
compulsion. However insistent Lily's urges can be, I'm eager to get on with
it, too. I need to find this book and figure myself out. I've lingered here
far too long already. If I can't leave until I've done this thing, then so be
it. I'm going to find the damned book. Soon.
I get myself together quickly and head out the door. It's
no surprise that I'm still stalked by my circle of guards. Going back to
ignoring them, I get on with my business. I don't have time for anyone. Down
the stairs, into the street, I'm headed through Wynwood toward the cell. I
keep my eyes straight ahead this time, refuse to take in details, and refuse to
think about the past. Just count.
Ninety-nine. Ninety-eight.
Ninety-seven. Ninety-six
. I curse under my breath as I realize that images
of coconuts have attached themselves to my counting. Then I'm laughing,
thinking of Jack and Apollon, and I'm in fairly good spirits, dwelling on my
friends. A wisp of anxiety threatens to creep in as I pass into the final,
narrow street. I keep walking, breathing, thinking of my friends. I think of
the river, and Apollon laughing, telling me stories. Jack and his endless,
endearing counting. I remember the night he woke, afraid, and we comforted
him. I remember Jonas passing him nuts. How beautiful Jonas' face was lit by
the orange glow of campfire embers. Or how the sound of his laughter flitted
out over the river, early that one morning. How he teased me about the fur I'd
stuffed into my jacket, and how that made me blush straight through my whole
body. I'm still thinking of him, thinking of every detail of him, as I find
myself at the top of the stairs. I don't remember the way up. All I remember
is Jonas on the river. And Jonas last night.
I take a deep breath, trying to focus, trying to breathe.
I'm here now. I've made it up, and I'm about to find out what's next. For all
I know, the book could be hidden right here on this very roof. It's different,
this time, isn't it? This time, we're in Wynwood. There's something significant
about it.
I take two steps, and freeze. My eyes dart to Scar-nose.
"Is there someone in the cell?"
He's looking out over the rooftops, and now he turns his
face to me. "No, Lily." The way he says my name is funny, full of a
weird and distant respect.
Another deep breath. Let it out. I stride calmly toward the
concrete cell in the middle of the roof. As I come around its front, I see
that the metal door is hanging open. There's no one up here except for me.
Us. Me. It's just me. I walk toward the door of the cell.
"Lily," Scar-nose says. There's something in his
voice—a warning?
I turn and look at him with my hand on the door of the cell.
He says nothing.
I pull the door the rest of the way open and walk inside.
The odor hits me first—the smell of piss and puke and death
stirred into a swampy stew. I gag, force all my breath out, and refuse to
breathe in. I pull my shirt up over my mouth, though I know it won't really
help, and when I absolutely have to, I breathe in very slowly. The smell is still
overwhelming, and I feel like I'm going to suffocate. I don't do well with
small spaces, either. So I have a quick pace around the cell. There's no air
circulation, and beyond the smell, I feel like I'm a piece of bread puffing up
in an oven. There's nothing here, though. A bare slab of a narrow bed
attached to one wall like a shelf. A small stretch of dirty floor and stained
walls. An empty but crusty piss bucket. I do a quick one-eighty, then decide
I must search underneath the bed. If I find nothing there, I'll have a look
around outside. But when it comes to it, I really don't want to touch the bed
at all. My whole body, whole mind, is screaming that it wants out of here.
I'm trying not to breathe and feeling like I'll be forced to take a deep gulp
of air at any moment. I squat down, trying not to touch the floor—god knows
what's been on this floor—and duck my head to look under the bed. I don't see
anything, so maybe I'll just come back if I don't find something outside. I've
breathed a bit in, now, and I'm choking on the horrendous smell. My eyes are
watering. I can't breathe—won't breathe—and the heat is making me dizzy as
fuck. I push to my feet, throwing out my arms for balance as I do. I fling
myself toward the door—it's swung partway closed after me. And there it is. A
circle in bright orange paint. Lily's next clue.
I squint at it, trying to focus, trying to fix it in my
mind. A big orange circle on the door beneath the tiny barred window. Simple
enough. I shove the door open and stumble outside, gasping for air. I'm
sweating, and my stomach hurts, and I feel like the whole world has closed me
into a box again. But I can't seem to move. I brace my hands on my knees and
stand there panting, gulping for fresh air.
Scar-nose supports me by the elbow and helps me move further
away from the cell, away from the leaking, putrid scent. He looks me over
warily, like he's afraid I'll crumple.
"I'm fine," I pant, making an effort and managing
to stand up straight on my own. I push back my hair, delighting in the
breeze's icy fingers on the sweaty edges of my face. I walk to the side of the
roof and look out over Wynwood—not much a view. Most of it is blocked by
taller buildings, and those aren't exactly pretty. I take some deep breaths
and focus on the memory of the orange circle. What is it? A sun? After I
think of it for a while, it seems to me that the setting sun might sometimes be
visible to a prisoner through that little window in the cell. But what does it
mean? What does
any
of it mean? Alligators, and playing cards, and now
the sun.
There's one person I want to run it all by. My feet are
flying down the stairs before I know it, and my guards are all rushing to keep
up.
***
I throw open the flap of Apollon's tent and duck inside,
worried that he's not here. The door would be open, wouldn't it?
Jack's the one who's not there this time. Apollon looks up
from the floor at the back. He's sitting cross-legged, bent over a book. I
might have known.
"Hey," I say, striding toward him. "Whatcha
doing?"
He raises one eyebrow and his book. "Umm?"
I push the book toward him so I can see the cover. "
For
Whom the Bell Tolls
? What?"
"It's gonna toll for thee if you don't go away and let
me read."
I consider him with my hands on my hips. I have no idea
what he's talking about, but I'm pretty sure that was a threat.
"Fine," I say lightly, and flounce out of the tent. "If you
don't want to see Lily's latest clue...."
I make it about five paces past the opening before he's at
my side.
I look him up and down. "Where's your book?"
He grins at me and throws his arm around my shoulder as we
walk. "You suck. So you found it, huh? Where is it?"
"I think you're just going to have to see this
one."
"Seriously?" Apollon asks as we climb the steps to
the cell. "Is there a prisoner?"
I shake my head, but that's all I manage for an answer. My
stomach shifts as we get to the top of the stairs, making me stop in my tracks.
Apollon grabs me by the arm and hauls me off the flight and
onto the roof. "OK?"
I nod, swallowing. "This place makes me feel queasy.
The smell...."
He wrinkles his nose and heads off across the rooftop,
bursting the bubble of my circle of guards to get there faster than the rest of
us. I'm slow, so the guards are slow. It must be a boring job for them. I
stroll along the roof quietly, in no hurry to get to the cell again. I've
already seen it. Once is enough. At least I hope to hell it is.
Scar-nose, walking by my side, glances at me when Apollon
comes back out of the cell. What was that? Curiosity? Uncertainty? It must
seem some weird thing to them, me coming here to check out the cell. I wonder
what they think I'm looking for. Lily seems to have had a lot of secrets, so I
doubt she included anyone on her mad capers to set this whole thing up. But
why here? Why would she bring me to this horrible, horrible place? And why
all the messing around in the first place if she so badly wants me to find the
book?
Apollon takes a moment to breathe in some fresh air and try
to turn less green and more normal-colored. I wait patiently next to him,
saying nothing. Finally, he takes a deep breath and says, "Well."
"Well?"
"Interesting choice of location."
"No shit. Why would she do that?"
He shakes his head, his eyes flicking to my guards. They're
all standing here looking like they're not listening... but they're clearly
listening.
"A little privacy?" I ask, pitching it so it's not
really a question.
The guards scatter—at least that's one thing I can make them
do. They're not going anywhere, but we can talk if we keep our voices down.
Apollon meets my gaze seriously. "It's like... it's
like she wanted you to work for it."
I snort. "Clearly. But it makes no sense.
Why
?
Why not just lead me to the book the first time. Or leave it with the other
one?"
His eyes narrow as he considers. "She didn't want
anyone else to read it?"
"Maybe." I study my palm, picking at a bit of dry
skin where my hands are chaffed from all the climbing of poles. "What do
you think's in it, then? Stuff about people?" My eyes move to take in
the scope of Wynwood.
Apollon shrugs. "Maybe. What do
you
think is
in it?"
"I thought it was personal." I lower my gaze
again, sighing. "I thought it was... you know. For me. I thought there
would be answers."
"Then maybe there is."
"She wouldn't need to hide that from everyone though,
would she?"
When I look up at him, his gaze softens. He reaches out and
touches my shoulder. "Maybe it's both," he says. "Maybe there
are lots of things."
I manage a weak smile and pat him on the arm before turning
away. I sigh. "I still don't understand." I look off over the
city, over the heads of my guards at the edge of the roof. "Maybe these
places are significant. Maybe it's like a puzzle, and we have to put it all
together to figure out where the book is. Maybe she'll never lead me straight
to it and I have to think about all these things and understand them to get to
the prize."
Apollon says nothing for a long time, though he stands at my
side, looking off where I'm looking.
"So here's a sun on a cell door," I say. "I
think maybe the prisoner could see the sun through that window. It would be
over there when it sets." I point to the western sky.
"It's not a sun," Apollon says.
"What?" I frown at him.
"It's an orange, you idiot."
"What?" I say again, and I'm heading into the
cell, smell or no smell.
Apollon comes with me, and we stand just inside, holding our
breath, gazing at the orange circle on the door.
"See," he says in a funny, I'm-not-breathing kind
of voice, tracing one section of the circle with his finger. "An
orange."
He's right. There's a little outward dip I didn't notice.
A belly button.
We vacate the cell and take a moment to breathe. I stare at
my blonde friend. An orange. Of course. Only... "That makes even
less
sense!"
He shrugs, making a face, palms open to the sky. "I
didn't write the script."
"This is nuts," I say, but even as I'm ranting
about all this, it
does
make sense. An orange feels right. I remember
how the smell has captivated me since I've been here. I remember the bombings
the first day, and all the trees in the warehouses. Maybe the next clue will
be in one of those warehouses. Maybe Lily is bringing us closer and closer to
home. Maybe... maybe it really is as simple as following the steps and we'll
find it soon. I realize, after a moment of thrall, that Apollon is standing
there looking at me. "What?"
"You have the look of the enlightened."
"There's a look?" I raise one eyebrow.
"Yep."
"Like what? A certain hairstyle or something?"
He laughs, that broad smile breaking across his face. He
claps me on the shoulder and we start walking toward the stairs, my guards
swooping in on us as we make our move.
"You have the hairstyle of the enlightened,"
Apollon says and, arms hooked together, we saunter down the stairs.
***
I've stood in on about half a meeting of Wynwood's council,
trying to look interested. I can't really think about any of these
things—these mundane necessities of governing a tribe. Buying, selling,
trading. Trust and not-trust. Dividing things and choosing representatives
and deciding what's OK and not OK and kind of OK but don't-do-that-again. And
then back to the buying-selling-trading bit. How did I ever do any of this?
Right now, I'm much more interested in Lily's puzzle. I
feel like every second that I don't get it is wasting time that I could be
using to search for Oscar. And then part of me is wondering why I'm still
here. Why haven't I just gone? Because I can't, right? Because I just need
to do this one little thing first.
Only it's not little. It's not. It's not. It's not. Why
am I here?
My eyes fall on Jonas, sitting on a low wall in the
sunshine, looking comfortable, talking easily with Tank and Dingle. And I
know... that's exactly why I'm here. I have to find a way to bring him with
me. What if I reversed his promise? Promised him that if, right now, he comes
with me to find Oscar, then I'll come back here with him later. That I'll do
whatever he needs. That he can have his chip. Just Oscar, first. That's
all. Oscar.
He would understand that, wouldn't he?
I watch him, laughing with the others. He must have told
some joke, the way they're grinning.
Would he come?
An arm slung around my shoulders makes me jump. I turn my
eyes on Celine and scowl at her.
"Well,
you're
jumpy," she says with a lazy
smile. "What's got ya thinking?"
"I was just thinking about what it'll feel like when
they stick a knife in my brain," I say easily.
She pales. Actually pales. But then her eyes narrow as she
leans in. "You were admiring your Jason."
"Was not," I say. "And anyway, how would
you
know?"
She shrugs, unwinding her arm from me to sit down on a
wall. "I know a lot of things."
I consider her, wondering if that's an invitation. I raise
my eyebrows and try one. "Know anything about oranges?"
"They're yummy." She flashes me a smile—a
beautiful fucking smile on her beautiful fucking face. I squint at her for a
moment, trying to figure out exactly what makes that face so perfect. Is it
the swoop of her forehead? The shape of the eyes?
"How about playing cards?" I ask half-heartedly.
"You mean the four of spades?" she teases, leaning
toward me.
So she
has
been paying attention. And maybe it's her
skin. Does anyone really have skin that looks like a lampshade for the sun?
This girl actually glows. If I turned out all the lights in a room, she'd
light it up better than an aether lamp.
"What do you know about the four of spades?" I ask.
She shrugs. "It was painted on the roof of a building
in the No Man's."
"So you don't know anything." She's trying to
get
information.
"Who painted it there?" All innocent curiosity.
"You don't know anything," I repeat.
She fiddles with the hem of her shorts for a moment, then
turns her face up to me, smiling. "I know you're ogling my nose."
"Ogling your nose?" I laugh. What the hell?
"You have a thing for my nose," she says.
"It's endearing, really."
"...OK." But now that she mentions it, she does
have a really great nose. Quite possibly a nose so noble that it makes the
rest of her face. As a matter of fact, without that strong nose, the rest of
her face would be too pretty—sickeningly pretty—like candy that's too sweet.
But with it, it's all perfect. Harmonious. And even though she's beautiful,
she's also... something more.
"See." Her smile is taunting, and pleased, and
itching with amusement—all rolled into one.
I laugh—really laugh, and I flop down on the wall beside
her, feeling all the weirdness and mistrust chase away into the distance.
"I like your nose," I say, leaning one forearm on her shoulder to
play with her hair.
"I know." Her smile gets wider, turning her eyes
into upside-down smiles.
For a moment, I absorb that sunshine, that happiness. I
experience the closeness, and I know that, once, we really were an amazing sort
of friends. And I miss that. I miss her. Or Lily misses her.
She sighs after I sigh, and pats me on the leg.
"You don't really know anything that can help me, do
you?" I ask.
Now she's sad, looking down at her lap until her hair falls
into her face. "Not if you won't let me."
"Lily painted the card."
She looks up, her eyes widening.
"She's sent me to all these clues, it would
seem." I sigh again. "And nothing makes sense. But I thought... I
had this idea that she'd left me another book. One that explains things.
Like... really."
Her eyes, filled with alarm, scan over my face. Then
something sinks in. She blinks, looking down, looking thoughtful. Her face
relaxes.
"Does it make sense to you?" I ask, grabbing her
hand and squeezing.
She shakes her head. "No, not really." There's
something in it though, something that makes me disbelieve her. She must know
I can see through her because she preempts my attack with a serious look.
"I don't want to talk about it anymore. I won't. OK?"
But there's something sincere in her refusal, and as much as
I want to, I can't insist that she talk to me about it. I sigh. She sighs.
We sigh again together.
"Well you're useless, then, aren't you?" I mutter.
She gives me a look.
I raise my eyebrows at her. "Well you are."
"I'm anything but useless, dear," she says in a
indignant tone. "Tell me what you want. What can I help with? How can I
make it better?"
I sigh again, slumping. "I don't know."
Something dark has come over my mood, now, and I'm sinking inside myself. I
wave one hand in the air, picking out the most futile of tasks for her.
"Make my stupid guards go away or something. Or change the color of the
sky."
"Really?" she says, her voice gone flat.
"You think that will make things better?"
I glance at her. My voice is flat, too. "I think if
you could make my guards go away it would not only make things better, but I
would owe you my eternal love."
"You already love me," she says, waving one
dismissive hand in the air.
I snort softly. "That's what I thought." No. No
one is ever going to make them go away. I'm going to have to escape them one
day. With Apollon and Jack and Jonas. Yes. With Jonas.
But Celine is leaning back on one hand, her eyes scanning
the circle of my guards. She finds Scar-nose, makes eye contact, and waves him
over. "Jim."
Jim? Scar-nose is called Jim? Well, whatever he's called,
she's in for a surprise.
As Scar-nose approaches us, Celine beams a smile up at him.
"We don't need you anymore," she says, making a cutesy shooing motion
with both hands placed together. "Thanks."
He nods and walks away. Really walks away. All of the
other guards trail after him.
"...What just happened?" I look at Celine with
wide eyes.
She shrugs.
"You."
She smiles.
I frown, trying to make sense of it. "Did I leave you
in charge? I thought I left Spec and Kobee in charge."
She shrugs again. "You did. They did a good job,
too. You would have been proud."
"But—"
She just gives me a lazy smile.
After a moment, I manage, "But I need my guards. To
protect me and all."
She shrugs—how do you make a shrug look like you're basking
in the sun? "We put out some misinformation about the data being
retrieved and wiped. You're probably pretty safe now. At least, as far as it
goes."
There are so many things I want to say to that, but I choose
to blink at her indignantly.
Celine looks past me and nods her chin in that direction.
"Oh look. Jason's free."
When I look over my shoulder, she climbs to her feet and
starts away. Before I can call to her, she glances back at me and says,
"You owe me your eternal love." She looks quite pleased with herself
as she walks away.