The Lost Girl (3 page)

But jealousy wasn’t about logic or reasoning. It could take you over and make you say horrible things, do horrible acts. As the Bard would say, “Trifles light as air are to the jealous confirmations strong.” And everything I ever said about Vigil, even the way I said it, became a confirmation of Tristan’s suspicions. Sometimes he wouldn’t even say a word, but I could see the look in his eyes: the fear and anger of losing me growing inside. I could see it taking root, gnawing at his heart, like a viciously wicked worm.

But I couldn’t let Tristan’s jealousy control me. He needed to understand that he must trust me and that Vigil was only my friend.

I followed him out of the room but Tristan had already disappeared. Riding the elevator to the ground floor, I stepped out into a grand hallway, which I wandered along until I reached a more intimate, dimly lit room. Tables were spread around and a small bar was nestled in the farthest corner. As soon as I stepped into the room, I recognized the never-failing pain throbbing in my wrist – just like it had done back upstairs in my room. I fisted my hand again, trying to make the pain lessen. It was always this way when Vigil was around and it was how I knew he was nearby.

The pain was a side effect from some high-level magic I had accidentally performed while trying to protect Tristan – without having any practical experience or knowledge
of what I was actually doing. The end result was a black marking tattooed on my wrist and, whenever Vigil was in my proximity, the constant pain. The only way to make it stop was skin-to-skin contact from Vigil – something Tristan particularly hated seeing.

Whenever Vigil realized I was suffering he would always try to hold my hand or lean over me, trying to touch me any way he could so the pain would stop. He didn’t mean anything by it; there was no covert intention in his touch, but that didn’t stop Tristan from being royally pissed about it.

The room was practically deserted: only a middle-aged man was drinking alone at one of the tables next to the bar. And then I spotted Vigil’s slim silhouette, sitting at the other side of the room. His hands were crossed and resting on the table in front of him, and he gave the impression of waiting patiently. As I approached him, and before he noticed me, I could see that his eyes were glazed over, as if he was focused on something far, far away from this reality. With Vigil, that might well have been the case. Who knew what kinds of realities Vigil was capable of seeing?

I sat down at the other side of his table, which made him jump a little, startled by my sudden appearance. Vigil was normally very alert to his surroundings, but today he seemed distracted.

He was wearing his usual clothes: an impeccable dark-gray suit. His stern and formal dress sense seemed at a disconnect with the softness of his delicate features.

Vigil could control his physical appearance and, given this ability, he had tried to match his age to mine. As I grew older, so did he. The changes were subtle, though; he still looked very much like the boy I remembered from when
we first met. His black hair still fell over an angelic, pale face, and the steely glint of his black eyes still pierced my own. His stare was cold and sharp, always vigilant and analytical. That stare alone made everybody approach him with a certain caution and a small sense of fear.

Vigil was still trying to understand human behavior, and his physical movements and verbal phrasing were slightly affected by what he had so far learned from us. The ways of humanity offered a difficult puzzle for him to solve and it was one of the topics we usually discussed.

“Hello, Joe.” He smiled faintly, watching me as I sat across from him.

“Hey,” I greeted him back. “So, Vigil, wassup?”

“Excuse me?” His expression was puzzled at my question. I usually avoided using slang whenever speaking with Vigil. He was very literal-minded.

“I mean, what is going on? What do you want to talk about?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, unfrowning his face. “You see, I have this new job …” he began.

Ah.
The job
. Vigil’s job. That was another regular topic of our long meetings. Vigil liked to discuss his various assignments with me. He said I was good at understanding chaotic things, and how they would turn out. His race had a very strict and narrow-minded way of seeing things, so I provided a more flexible reasoning and a human perspective, and somehow it helped him fix whatever needed to be fixed.

I was his “Consultant on Chaotic Affairs”. His “Expert on Unstable Matter”.

The thing was, after Vigil started “consulting” with me, he also started getting better at his job. Like, a lot better. His levels of efficiency rocketed sky high and he was now
becoming renowned for it among his “colleagues”. Now he was
The Guy
you called when you needed help.

“… and it is giving me some grievance,” he continued. “I can’t manage to get a grip on this one; it is a sneaky little thing. Maybe you can find something I’m overlooking?” he said, putting his hands on top of mine in a gentle, familiar gesture. The throbbing pain in my arm stopped immediately.

“Okay. First I need to ask you: Is this new job dangerous, Vigil?”

“I don’t know what you mean by that,” he said. After I rolled my eyes impatiently, he added, “You mean, dangerous for me?”

I sighed and glared at him.

“No. Hardly anything is dangerous for me,” he continued. “Now, for you, I have to say yes. But
everything
is dangerous for you humans. Staying in the sun for too long is dangerous for you. Not drinking water is dangerous for you. Bleeding for more than a minute is also very dangerous—”

“Okay, okay. I get it! Everything is dangerous for us. We are a very weak species,” I snapped, annoyed. “So, it is not dangerous
for you
, then?” I stated, watching him as he nodded an affirmative. “Is it urgent? Like, it needs to be solved in a few hours tops, urgent? Or do you have some time to work on this?”

He thought for a minute, probably contemplating the differences in the time lapse between his reality and Earth’s reality, so that he could figure out what I meant by a “few hours”. Sometimes talking with Vigil was very complicated. It could get so philosophical and metaphysical that it would give me a heavy migraine.

“I have ‘some time’ to deal with it,” he answered cautiously.

“Some time, as in …?” I asked.

“Well, now, that is a tricky question, you see, because time is a very relative concept when you consider—”

“OKAY! All right! I know where this is going, and I’m so
not
going there right now!”

He gave me a baffled look.

“What I meant to say is, if this new job is neither dangerous or urgent, can we please discuss it some other time? I am exhausted right now. Us ‘weak humans’ need to rest, remember? If we don’t sleep, our brains don’t operate properly, and I can’t really help you when I’m tired like this …” I hunched over in my seat and rubbed my eyes.

“Oh. I see. Okay, Joe, I understand. We can talk later.”

I smiled weakly. “I’m sorry I’m not in the best place to help you right now,” I apologized, standing up.

“That’s perfectly understandable,” he said, standing too. “We will talk about it later and you can help me then, right?”

I nodded and gave him a quick goodbye hug. As usual he tensed a little, but I had already let go before he could do anything about it. He was never a fan of people invading his personal space.

“Goodbye, Joe,” he said, taking a step back.

“Night, Vigil.” I yawned and waved one last goodbye before walking away.

I stepped inside the elevator in a gloomy mood, the fight with Tristan back in my mind.

When I reached my door, my attention was drawn to something that had been placed in front of it, on the floor.
I crouched down and picked it up. It was a white lily, my favorite flower. A black ribbon was tied around its stalk with a little note attached to the ribbon. It read:

A beautiful white to a beautiful Gray.
From your devoted and most loyal
Secret Admirer.

I glanced around, but there was no one in the deserted corridor. It was probably from a fan, I thought to myself. They sometimes managed to get past hotel Security and left gifts at our doors: stuffed bears, boxes of chocolate. We also received piles of letters, and sometimes we were sent flowers, like this lily.

I walked inside my room and could hear the TV blaring out, accompanied by Harry’s laughter. He was lying on the bed, shirtless and wearing only his loose jeans, watching some cartoon.

I crossed the room to lay my flower on the nightstand before slumping down next to Harry.

“So, I guess he really is staying in his room tonight, then,” I mumbled.

“Yeah, I saw him storming past and thought I should check on you and see what had happened.”

“How angry was he?” I asked in a small voice.

Harry eyed me with sympathetic green eyes. “He just needs some time to chill. He’ll be back to his normal self soon.”

“I only said I was going out to talk to Vigil for ten minutes and he blew a gasket,” I muttered, upset.

“He does have a point, though, Joe. You
do
go running every time that dude calls you.”

I leaned away from him and crossed my arms, affronted. “So, you’re taking his side, is that it?”

Harry raised his hands in an appeasing gesture. “Hey! I’m not taking any sides. But if the big man is feeling a little ‘uncertain’, you should put him at ease, you know, let him know he’s the number one guy in your life.”

In other words, set your priorities straight, Joe Gray. Boyfriend comes first. Unearthly-being friend, second.

“I have to confess to you, I’m not much a fan of the little dude myself,” Harry said, biting his bottom lip.

I rolled my eyes. “He’s not
little
. He’s about the same height as you and Seth.”

“Pssht! He wishes. He’s way smaller than me, and thinner. And weaker,” he teased, flexing his biceps at me. “Oh, and uglier too!”

I grabbed a pillow and stuffed it over his face, straddling his lap at the same time. He laughed then pretended he was suffocating. Then I felt his body go limp beneath me and I heard a muffled “You killed me!” from underneath the pillow.

I tossed the pillow away and poked him in the chest. “Stop. Picking. On. Vigil.”

He grunted. “All right. Gosh, you’re such a bully!” he complained and prepared to get up from the bed. “Now that I see that you’re okay, I’ll be going …”

“No! Please, don’t leave! Can’t you stay with me for a little while? You can at least finish watching your cartoon,” I urged, giving him a pleading look. I didn’t want to be alone in the room after my fight with Tristan. I knew I would just keep thinking about it and feel awful, and Harry’s company would help me feel a little bit better. He sat back and settled next to me, making himself comfortable on the bed.

I curled up around his arm and rested my head on his chest as we watched the TV show together in silence. Harry was always there for me whenever I had a fight with Tristan; just his reassuring presence was enough to help me.

Tristan was still on my mind as I fell asleep by Harry’s side.

I woke up in a panic, startled by a series of loud bangs. I blinked, confused, and sat up in bed quickly, trying to work out what was going on. Where was I? What time was it? Who was banging on the door like that, for crying out loud?

I swept a look around the hotel room. Ah, okay. Hotel room. That was one question answered already. Harry was still sleeping peacefully beside me, his green and red tattoo snaking over his chest and shoulder. What I finally recognized as Becca’s muffled voice and continuous banging finally made me snap out of my sleepy daze.

I leapt up and ran to the door before she could break the damned thing, and threw it wide open. Becca was indeed on the other side, her fist raised ready to pound again, while Jamie stood right behind her, holding two cups of coffee.

“About time, Joe Gray! I’ve been calling you on the phone and banging on this door
for ever
,” she shouted, exasperatedly. “Everybody is anxious to get back home, you know. Only you and Harry aren’t ready to go. Jamie, give her the coffee. We’re leaving in ten minutes. Hurry up
and get Harry ready!” she exclaimed and turned around, speedwalking to the elevator.

I nodded, even though Becca wasn’t even there any more, and then rubbed my eyes, trying to wipe the sleep away. I still felt so tired. Jamie cleared his throat, a small smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“Here, for you and Harry,” he said, handing me the two cups, and then added smartly, “You look hot waking up.”

I snorted loudly and in a very unladylike way, thinking that no way in hell would I look good waking up with my bird’s nest hair and the morning breath of doom.

Jamie shrugged, like he had been enjoying the view very much, no matter what I thought of it, and then gave me a short nod before retreating back into the hallway.

I closed the door, holding the two cups of coffee, and then it hit me properly that Harry had fallen asleep beside me last night and had never left the room. He was still sleeping right there on the bed, even after Becca’s thunderous knocking a minute ago. I shuffled towards him and put the coffees on the nightstand, watching him sleep. Harry could sleep through a hurricane and not be disturbed by it.

I passed my hand softly over his face, brushing aside some of his long blond bangs. He blinked and looked at me through half-open eyes.

“Hey, Harry Bear,” I said quietly. “We need to get ready and leave. Everybody is waiting for us. We overslept.”

He nodded but made no effort to move, merely blinking lazily at me. Harry was never much of a morning person. He usually woke up in “quiet mode” and needed to gulp down copious amounts of food and coffee before he was ready to talk.

“Here, some coffee for you, sweetie,” I said, handing him one of the cups. He leaned on his elbows to sip at the coffee and I ran to the bathroom to get myself ready.

When I came out dressed in fresh clothes, Harry had already left for his room to get ready as well. We met in the lobby a few minutes later, ran together to the bus and climbed up to the second floor to find everybody spread around the couch, waiting patiently for us.