“You’re bleeding, man,” Matt said in a hushed breath.
I put the back of my hand against my nose. “Seriously?” Sure enough, my skin came back with red staining the creases. I leaned my head back and pinched my nose closed. No wonder I tasted blood again.
“Should I call somebody?”
“Nah, I’ll just … I’ll just go shower and go home. Lie down. I’m fine.”
“You sure?” He looked dubious, and used a hand to wipe his hair up off his forehead. His face was flushed with effort, from playing in the humid afternoon. Everybody was hot, but not everybody was fainting.
“I’m sure,” I said. I smiled. I was good at smiling.
Matt nodded. He jogged back to the field. I turned and found Holly waiting. Not pale and covered in bloody water. Just normal, in her blue cheer uniform.
I stopped smiling. “Hey,” I managed.
“You okay, Will?” Her eyebrows lifted and she met my eyes, calm and steady. Nothing like the embarrassment I was feeling rather acutely showed on her face.
About ten feet behind her the rest of the cheerleaders clustered. I hadn’t noticed Holly with them before, probably because she’d been out of all practices since the earthquake. I’d forgotten to look for her. From Shanti’s expression, I got the distinct impression Holly’d been sent to check on me.
She pursed her lips and glanced back at the cheerleaders over her shoulder. I snapped out of it. “Yeah, Holly, I’m good.”
“Can I get you water or anything?”
I stared at her. And inexplicably thought about that girl in the goggles. Mab. Holly was so different from her. The cheer uniform, for example. Sharp and pleated, in our school colors of black and blue. Holly’s hair was short now, because they’d cut some of it to put the stitches in, and carefully styled to cover the worst section in the back. “I’m good,” I repeated.
Holly hesitated, one hand smoothing the perfectly flat material over her stomach. Her fingers fidgeted.
I jerked my gaze back up to her face. “Are you okay?” I asked, stepping nearer. I felt like I was hulking over her, though I’m not that big. Could never play football. She wasn’t tiny, either. It wasn’t physical, in other words.
“I only wanted to know if …” She paused, and I was struck again by how calm her face appeared. That hand was her tell.
Warm blood hit my upper lip, and I caught it with the back of my knuckle, grimacing. “Sorry,” I mumbled from behind my hand.
Holly’s mouth pinched up, and she nodded quickly. “You should take care of it. I’ll talk to you later. Soon.”
I took two steps around her, my instinct to push, to find out what she needed. “Holly?”
Her eyebrows arched up again.
“You all are manning the sport booth tomorrow morning, right? Down at the farmers’ market?”
“Yeah.”
I tilted my head and tried out a smile despite the gross state of my nose. “I’ll talk to you then, then.”
“Okay, Will,” she said, wincing at my face. She covered her mouth, but I saw the smile in her eyes.
FOURTEEN
It was Gabriel I asked, because you still called me Miss Sonnenschein, even two months into my stay, even when it was the longest, darkest time of the year and we were trapped, the three of us, together in the house.
I followed him into the blisteringly bright snow an afternoon in January, tears streaking down my face from the glare of sun on the brilliant white landscape. “Gabriel,” I called, air sharp as needles in my throat, so that he might slow down. My boots held out the cold, but in six inches of snow I couldn’t keep up with his strong strides.
He did stop, and held out a gloved hand for me. Mine were encased in mittens I’d knitted myself. The freezing wind pulled out red even in his face, and his hat was pulled down low to shield his dark eyes. I gripped his hand and walked with him down toward the barn.
“How old are you?” I asked.
Gabriel laughed. “You have a guess, do you not?”
“Old,” was all I said, pulling his arm so that he would let me stare up into his face.
His mouth slid into half of a smile, and he shrugged one shoulder. “Yes, darling Evie. Very old.”
“And so is Arthur.”
“Nearly as old as me, but not quite.”
“Tell me.” I reached with my free hand and put it against his cold cheek. “Tell me, Gabriel, everything.”
Gabriel tilted his head so that he kissed the rough palm of my mitten. I felt his hot breath seep through the wool and shivered. He said, “Not everything, my pet. But some.”
Together we continued to walk, keeping our blood warm, through the trees. Snow whispered between the naked fingers of the forest, cold kisses on my cheeks, and Gabriel told me that both of you were more than three hundred years old. That he’d met you when you were my age, in a place called the Mohawk Valley in what is now, but was not then, New York State. You’d traveled together for decades, teaching each other magic, hunting out other men with your power in order to trade knowledge with them, discovering alchemy and everlasting life. You taught him to turn leaves into silver and draw rubies from the mountains; he showed you how to possess living creatures and to grow fruit from a barren tree.
Gabriel told me that even when you spent years apart, always you returned to each other, like geese flying south in November. He mentioned adventures he’d had without you, in the Indian Wars, during the Gold Rush, in Alaska and Florida, along the Mexican border, and when Las Vegas was only a fort in the desert. He told me about your various apprentices in the last century—Philip the doctor, Laura Harleigh who transformed herself into a swan, the sister and brother Jessica and Deitrich who traveled the South with you, healing during the Civil War.
And your wife. Who died in 1908, just before you came here to Kansas. Her name was Anne, he told me, intimately, too, as if he’d been there for all of it. As if he offered me a secret.
It was an hour or less that we walked together, down the deer path toward the barn, but his every word, every new bit of story buried me, making the snowflakes that tumbled down from the sky into heavy lead. My shoulders ached, my nose was dry and freezing, and my eyes cracked with the effort of holding back tears.
What hope did I have to win just your attention, much less affection? I was a silly little girl, and there was nothing I had to tempt you, who had lived so long, into loving me.
That night when I brought you a cup of hot cider with honey, your finger brushed mine and I nearly spilled it all down your shirt. You smiled absently and thanked me. Going to the sofa, I curled up under a blanket as Gabriel read to us an article about Cyd Charisse in Parade magazine. Your sketchbook rested on your lap, and you drew images of women dancing. I could barely focus on Gabriel’s voice or the flickering fire or the needle in my hand as I tried to sew up a hole in one of your shirts. All I could think was that the faces of your dancing women must be faces you’d known, women you’d loved decades before I’d even been born.
I’d never have believed the truth.
FIFTEEN
MAB
The sun hung heavy just over the roofs in Faith and Eli’s neighborhood when we pulled into their driveway Saturday morning. We had a little less than an hour before the opening of the market downtown, but the long table we used as our booth resided among Eli’s tools in their back shed. I’d spent the drive down planning my morning: After helping Donna to set up, and once the shops downtown opened, I had a list of errands to run. To the Community Mercantile for the goat’s feet I’d requested, the tea shop, and a jeweler who carried raw rubies in particular.
Lukas said, “It looks so normal.”
Donna laughed quietly. “We don’t have to be strange.”
I was halfway across the too-tidily-mown lawn when the front door opened and Eli poured out with little Hannah clutching his hand and Caleb slung over his shoulders.
Eli paused on the narrow concrete steps leading out of the ranch house. H
e tried to speak, but Caleb’s grubby little hand flailed too near. Eli had to curl an arm up to catch the boy, both of them roaring as he rolled Caleb down off his shoulder, plopping him onto the ground. Hannah let go and waved at me.
She and Caleb, after he picked himself up off the grass, ran at me, and I knelt for a hug. I put my face between their heads. Caleb I’d only known from a distance, because he’d hardly been born when they moved. Hannah, though, I squeezed tight. I’d changed her diapers and been the one she came to in the middle of the night when she dreamed the roses wanted to steal her away.
It had been those dreams, of course, that had convinced Faith to take her children off the blood land.
“Hi, Mab,” Hannah said, and Caleb already had his fist tangled in my hair.
Eli crouched. His beard needed a trim, and it was difficult to see what his lips were doing. “My turn, cretins,” he said, dragging them away from me. Hannah stayed near, waiting in her quiet way, but Caleb took off for Donna.
I closed my eyes at Eli’s light kiss on my cheek. He was twice my age, and smelled like a proper blood witch: all copper and spicy sage. It was just like Arthur, and the bite of missing him made me hug Eli tightly. His scent slipped through my nose and settled like home in my heart.
“Good morning,” he said, giving me a true smile as he pulled us both to our feet.
“We have someone to introduce you all to,” I said, offering my hand down to Hannah. “Is your mama up?”
“We have pancakes,” she said. She was only five, but already graceful like Faith.
From behind me, Donna said, “Here’s Lukas, Eli. He’s new out at the farm.”
Eli nodded. “Pleasure to meet you, Lukas. I’m Eli, this is my home, and these are my children, Caleb and Hannah. If you’re a friend of Mab and Donna’s, you’re welcome here.”
The strangely formal speech had Lukas licking his lips, his eyes darting from Eli to Caleb in Donna’s arms and back again. I’d explained how Eli and Faith had the magic in their blood but, like Donna, weren’t much of practitioners. Not for reasons like hers, but because Eli preferred using his hands, and tools man-made, and Faith thought magic for its own sake was superfluous. She reserved it for necessity. But they both wanted their children to learn the power, because it was part of their birthright. Lukas had decided in the car that that was better than his own dad. He held out a hand to Eli and said, “Hi.”
They shook like grown men, and then Donna swept over the moment, saying, “You go on in with Mab, Lukas, and I’ll get the table loaded up and then we’ll sit for a few minutes.”
“I’ll help,” Eli said, and when Donna passed me Caleb, they went around back.
I hitched Caleb onto my hip, pulled a strand of my hair out of his mouth, and asked Hannah to take us inside.
Their little ranch-style house was one story, clean as a whistle, with the kitchen directly down the short hall from the front door. A house with the hearth in the center had been Faith’s only requirement besides an air conditioner, I remembered her saying. She was from Michigan, a far-flung branch of the blood family, and singularly unused to our Kansas summers. She’d left home at eighteen, searching for God, and found Arthur instead. He’d taught her what he knew, helped her change her name to Faith, and introduced her to Eli.
She greeted me with a strong hug after I put Caleb into a high chair. The buttons of her overalls pressed cold against my collarbone. “Hi, Mab.” Her smile slid halfway off her face, and she leveled her small brown eyes at me. “How is it, Deacon?”
“Good.” I paused, covering the thoughts of my broken doll with layers of imaginary dirt and leaves. “As can be expected.”
“I’m glad. You haven’t called, and I’ve hoped that meant you were doing all right.”
I nodded, glancing past her to the bar, where there was more syrup on the counter than there was in the glass jar. Hannah had climbed up onto one of the tall stools beside Caleb, and helped him with his sippy cup.
“And who’s this?” Faith asked, smiling at Lukas. We’d put him in a clean shirt, but it was too big for him. Getting him some clothes of his own was another errand for the day.
“I’m Lukas,” he answered himself, reaching around to catch Caleb’s cup as it spilled off his high chair.
“He’s family,” I said, knowing it would be all Faith needed. I hoped it would sink in with Lukas, as well. This was our family, and we would all help him when he needed it.
“Pancake?” she offered.
“Pancake!” Caleb cried around the cup Lukas had returned to him.
“How could we resist?” I sat on the third stool with Lukas on my other side while Faith moved to the oven and pulled out a stack of pancakes staying warm on a serving tray.
We ate, and I told Faith Nick had stopped by, and that he and Silla were leaving for Oregon. Eli came in with Donna, and she accepted apple juice and a pancake. Caleb clapped for his dad to pick him up but was dragged to the sink instead for his whole arms and face to be washed of sticky syrup. It was loud, and I stopped chewing to let the familiarity wash around me. Lukas had barely touched his pancake, and watched everything with those darting eyes of his. I wondered how long he’d been alone, just him and his dad.
Hannah touched my hand and then reached around me to tap Lukas on the wrist. “Look,” she said and held up her thin finger. A blue Band-Aid with cartoon characters I didn’t recognize wrapped around it.
“Have you been learning magic?” I whispered, bending close.
Hannah nodded solemnly, but a tiny smile pressed the corners of her mouth.
“What kind?” Lukas whispered, leaning in conspiratorially.
“We woke up a flower, didn’t we?” Faith said, moving back to the counter as Eli toweled Caleb’s face dry.
“Resurrection?” I asked Hannah.
“It only hurt a little bit,” the girl admitted.
I kissed her finger and said, “It has to, or the blood doesn’t matter.”
Donna set her plate down. “Everything beautiful hurts just a little bit.” It was one of Arthur’s sayings.
“Can you show me fire again?” Hannah asked, making her eyes big.
“Fire’s dangerous,” Lukas said softly. I noticed his hands were tucked into his lap, so that no one might see his scars.
“It can be,” I agreed. I leaned back so that I spoke to both Lukas and Hannah. “But think of water. Water feeds our thirst, and yet can flood us or drown us. We need it, but it is also dangerous. Did God give us water, and the devil make us drown? I don’t think so. The danger doesn’t come from the water but from us. From how we use it and how we let it use us in turn.”
Lukas pressed his small fists into his thighs.
I gave Hannah a tiny smile. “I have to go to the market this morning, but when we bring the table back, we’ll go out and I’ll help you. Any color you like.”
“Blue,” she said immediately.
“Blue fire, the best kind.”
“We should get going so we set up before opening,” Donna said from the sink. She was loading her plate into the dishwasher while Faith wrestled with getting Caleb’s dirty shirt off and Eli washed the frying pan.
Eli walked us out to the car, and once Lukas was buckled into the backseat, he caught my elbow. “Donna said he’s got some curse in him.”
I pursed my lips and glanced through the window at Lukas; he had his hand on the glass, staring up past me to where the crows picked at some garbage rolling down the street. “Maybe.”
“Anything we can do?”
“Not yet. Be yourselves.”
Eli put his hand on my shoulder, weighing me down with comfort. “You’ll find the truth,” he said. “I know you.”
“We will.” I opened the passenger door.
As we drove away, Eli lifted his hand.
Donna said, “It’s about ten minutes to downtown. How are you doing, Lukas?” She’d been concerned the noise of the Waller house would be overwhelming for him.
&
nbsp; He didn’t respond, and I looked back to find him staring with his face pressed to the window. I craned around and saw the crows winging fast to catch up, all eleven in a double V formation. Not at all crowlike. Silla had called them cursed, too, like Eli had Lukas, but I didn’t believe it. Reese lived on, free and flying, and it was possible whatever magic Lukas’s father had linked into him was just as open to interpretation. I hoped that was the truth.
One evening I’d heard Eli and Arthur and Granny Lyn arguing about truth on the front porch while I practiced runes on scraps of paper with crayons. Eli said, Knowing is the path to truth. Arthur thought listening was the path, and Granny Lyn that it was love.
I wondered what I believed.
WILL
It was easy to find the cheerleaders at the farmers’ market. At eight a.m. they were the only people younger than thirty. Everywhere else were aging hippies, robust farmers, grown-ups in jogging shorts, and about fifty kinds of dogs on leashes. The vegetables did look really great, and I was tempted by a booth with seven different colors of honey. I’d thought honey was all the same. But my hands were full of cardboard coffee cups, so I kept walking for the booth where the cheerleaders sold T-shirts with our star logo and star-shaped cookies.
Each sports team was taking a couple of Saturdays over the summer to sell the shirts and whatever baked goods we could come up with. Proceeds went to a college scholarship fund set up by the parents of two football players who’d died in a car crash last year.
The cheerleaders all wore the T-shirts themselves, a nice size too small, and white short shorts. Attracting plenty of customers. Probably they should be here every Saturday.
Kate saw me first, and she nudged Shanti, who came around the booth with a smile. “Hey, Will. Matt with you?”
I handed her one of the trays of coffee. “Nope. I brought coffee for the effort.”
“Really.” She narrowed her eyes like she always did when she suspected Matt of something. Her lids were dusted with gold glitter that Matt said made her hot as a Bollywood princess, but it got all over everything. “Well, thanks.”
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