Infinityglass

by Myra Mcentire

  As I often found with Hallie, I had no idea how to respond.

  “I’m not going to lie and say that most often I find it disgusting when men can’t look above my shoulders. But above my shoulders is where you usually look.”

  “That’s where your eyes are.” I sounded like an idiot.

  “Do you know anyone who has eyes elsewhere?”

  “I mean that’s where your intelligence is. I can see it there. I like that part of you.”

  “I know. And that might be where your focus is right now, but I have to be honest. After our earlier conversation, I’m hoping your thoughts are somewhere else entirely.”

  Chapter 11

  Hallie

  I needed to be 100 percent to do a job, and I had to do this one well to keep Dune in my father’s employ. Now he had my thoughts spinning, and other parts of me aching. We were alone in a hotel. I’d thought there was something happening between us beyond a working relationship, but I couldn’t even convince him to stray a smidge into moral ambiguity. All he could think about was the job. I just wanted a kiss. So I would have an answer.

  Not that I knew the question.

  “Ready?” Dune asked.

  “Unless you’ve changed your mind about the kissing.”

  He put his hand on the doorknob.

  “Fine. Now is the perfect time to go down, anyway. People will be leaving for dinner, checking in, and there’s some sort of reception in the lobby.”

  “Why do you want more people instead of less people?

  Shouldn’t you wait until the dead of night?”

  “No.” I checked my lipstick one more time in the mirror, and caught Dune checking out my bare back. “Too much security camera action if we do it that way.”

  “Why does that matter? You can change your appearance.” He picked up the key card and dropped it into his pocket.

  “Right. But you can’t. If you were Poe, this would’ve been simpler.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint.” He sounded so touchy I had to grin.

  “I didn’t mean it that way, and you know it.”

  We took the guest elevator to the second floor and wandered down the hall until we found the staff elevator. We needed to take it to the lobby so we could enter from the back.

  “I like being with you,” I said. “I like you in general. I wasn’t trying to be insensitive. I was merely speaking truth, and as previously discussed, I can show you how not disappointed I will be later. If we get through this without any incidents.”

  When the elevator doors closed behind us, I gave into my urge, turned to face him, and traced one finger along his jaw line.

  His expression was stoic. “If you want to avoid an incident, you should probably not touch me.”

  “But that’s the kind of incident I could get into.”

  “Hallie.” He grabbed my fingers and lowered our joined hands.

  “Saved by the elevator,” I said as the doors opened.

  The lobby was hopping. A few businessmen, a couple of families, and a trio of transvestites all gathered around the piano in the corner. The man behind it played “When the Saints Go Marching In” at a roaring clip. I shook my head in disgust.

  “People feed off stereotypes in the Quarter, and we grow them like algae. When I see things like that, I wonder if it’s the irony of the locals or the idiocy of the infiltrators. Plus, it’s a little hard to cause a distraction when there’s a sing-along happening.”

  “You could get on top of the piano,” he said, without missing a beat.

  I laughed, a real one. Dune could pull them out of me like magic. “We can wait until it’s a little calmer.”

  “Nope.” He unbuttoned his suit jacket. I glanced at his pants pocket to see if I could make out the Taser, but realized too late that it totally looked like I was checking out his assets.

  “I was making sure you had your weapon,” I blurted out when he raised his eyebrows.

  He grinned.

  “I was looking for the Taser in your pants.” When he snort laughed, I closed my eyes and shook my head. “Oh hell, can we just get out of here?”

  “I said no. I have an idea. Do you have the replacement crystal in your purse?”

  I nodded.

  “Go stand by the case and get ready to make a move.”

  “Excuse me?” I put my hands on my hips. “Did you just try to boss me on a job I brought you on?”

  “I see a way to solve the problem right now. Trust me.”

  He turned and walked away, did a check of the lobby, and then stared at the largest vase of flowers.

  It took me a minute to figure out what he was doing, and another ten seconds to figure out it was going to work. I took off for the display case.

  Every vase in the lobby started to wobble back and forth—the ones at the entrance, on the piano, on the check-in desk, and on every table. The next wave of movement touched the vases in the niches on the walls, and on each table in the restaurant. Finally, the giant water dispenser with fresh-cut lemons and limes started to slosh its contents furiously back and forth.

  And then they all crashed to the ground at once.

  I switched the crystals in fifteen seconds easy, and turned back to the lobby.

  The people around the piano were jumping around, trying to keep their feet out of the puddles. “Was that an earthquake? Does New Orleans have earthquakes?”

  “My suitcase is soaking wet!” A woman at the check-in desk looked like she expected the trusty Olga to suck the excess water up with her mouth, while Olga ran for an armful of cloth napkins.

  Dune stood smiling, as chaos reigned. Then he met my eyes.

  He crossed the lobby and took my hand.

  I followed him up a staircase to a couch on a landing, nerves swirling. The sounds from the lobby echoed up to us, but otherwise the quiet was heavy.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, sitting down.

  “You’ve worked for Chronos for five minutes, and you figure out how to do a job on the fly. I was going to cop out because of a sing-along.”

  Dune’s emotions were controlled, while mine were bouncing off the inside of my chest like a rubber ball.

  “Did I make you angry by going off plan?”

  “No.”

  “You have the crystal ball, isn’t that all that matters?”

  “No, I’m just … I don’t … this is my thing, not your thing. The Hourglass doesn’t steal.”

  “Retrieve.” He grinned and pulled me down beside him. Close beside him. “You’re acting like doing jobs for Chronos is the only thing that defines you.”

  I rubbed the skin above my sternum and wondered if I was too young for a heart attack. “It feels like it is. Like it always will. I’ll have to be the one to take it over, the one to carry it into the next generation, whether I want to or not. I’ll inherit all my parents’ choices, and more seclusion, more bodyguards, more attempts on my life. All that good stuff. I look at my life and the only thing I see in front of me is Chronos.”

  “I don’t think that’s true, Hallie. It doesn’t have to be that way.”

  “You want to know why I think my mom is such an unfortunate human? She has the lamest ability ever.”

  He took my hand away from my heart, held it.

  “She’s a human clock. Ask her what time it is. She knows it to the second. It was fun when I was little, but the novelty wore off. I think she resents what I can do. The point is, she made up for her lack of ability by taking over. Having the most power. Wielding it over me. I don’t want to be her. I don’t want Chronos to define me. Ever.”

  “Tell me what you want.”

  “To go to Newcomb. They have an amazing dance program. And then I’d dance professionally, anywhere—it doesn’t need to be prestigious—and truthfully, I want to stay in New Orleans. There’s so much art here, and so much room to create all kinds of things. Not that I’ve seen much of it in person lately. But I know what the nightlife is like in the Quarter, and I rememb
er all the performance art in the square.” I hadn’t set foot in it since Benny died. I could barely manage seeing the statue of Andrew Jackson along the skyline if I glimpsed it from a side street. “This city breathes, and I’m oxygen starved.”

  “Then do it.”

  “That’s the problem,” I said. “I can’t.”

  Dune

  “You’ll find a way.”

  “What makes you so sure?” Hallie asked.

  “Because … you’re challenging.” I paused to rephrase when she frowned. “Let me explain. Poe told me before I met you that you were smart. A genius. That’s true.”

  “What else did he tell you?”

  “That you were … ah … sexy.”

  She pulled her hand away and her eyes went wide. “Did he—”

  “He told me that whatever happened between you didn’t work out, and that he cares about you and considers you to be one of his best friends. That’s all I need to know.”

  “Oh. Okay. I didn’t realize you were that close,” she said.

  “It was a debriefing.” I kept going, hoping she wouldn’t dig deeper into my connection with Poe. “He also told me that you know what you want and how to get it. I haven’t seen anything that tells me differently. Whatever you decide to do with your life, you’ll do.”

  “You’re one of the few who knows non-Chronos Hallie. I was frustrated upstairs, and I’m sorry I took it out on you. But you need to know that I like you.” She lifted her hands and let them flutter to her lap. “I think … you’re solid. You’re pretty. In a very manly way, of course.”

  “Have you noticed how often you render me speechless?”

  “It’s not purposeful, I swear. My brain overloads my senses sometimes.”

  “I have a friend who says her edit button is broken.”

  “I never installed mine.” She smiled.

  “If you like me, why were you so … combative today?”

  She exhaled. “Because I’m pretty sure you like girls, and I keep flirting with you, and so far, you’ve responded with a really, really terrible mullet reference and those nice things you said a minute ago. But you could have said those in friendship.”

  “I said them because I believe them. I’m trying to keep things friendly because my purpose is to help you find out what being the Infinityglass means. But …”

  “But?” She sounded hopeful.

  I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to take her face in my hands, thread my fingers through her hair, and kiss her until neither one of us could see or breathe or worry about what was coming next. Then I wanted to go back to the room and … yeah.

  “But maybe my purpose has skewed a little.”

  “Why did the Hourglass send you?” She looked up into my eyes. “Why not someone else?”

  “My knowledge base is broadest.” I was quiet for a minute. “And I’m glad, because I wouldn’t want anyone to be here but me.”

  “Why?” She leaned in, and her eyes were on my lips.

  “Because I wouldn’t have met you. The Infinityglass would’ve been cold and impersonal to me, and I needed it to have a face.”

  Because now that it did, everything had changed.

  “I’m glad you’re here, too.” She stopped for a moment, thinking. “What you did in the lobby was so amazing. I know you don’t like to use it, but you can control it.”

  “Just the small things.”

  “Then you practice with the big things. It’s a gift, Dune, not something you can shove in between your mattress and box spring like a diary. You can’t lock it up and forget about it. There could come a time when you need it.”

  I ran my thumb over the smooth skin on top of her hand. “I’m afraid of losing control. The very last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt someone, even a stranger.”

  “I understand control. I never feel like I have it, except when I dance.”

  “I wish I could see you.” I pressed my lips together right after I said it. “I mean …”

  “The Samoan boy blushes. You want to see me dance?”

  I searched her face. “I do.”

  She nodded slowly. “Then follow me.”

  From the landing where we sat, I followed her up to the second-story lobby. A tapestry hung on one wall above a huge wooden cabinet. Ornate golden carvings on the door displayed a roaring lion with a flowing mane. The more I looked at it, the more it seemed to be a warrior wearing a mask. Two sets of double doors were across from it.

  “Locked.” Hallie looked around before stepping in front of the lock. I heard a swish and then a little click as she pulled one of the doors open.

  “What did you do?”

  “You don’t want to know.” She tucked her hand in her pocket. “Come on.”

  She let the door close behind us, and we stood in silence as I took it all in.

  A ballroom. A row of windows dressed in golden velvet draperies was divided by a small, simple staircase with four steps. The late afternoon sunlight blurred the edges of a windowed doorway that led to a wide gallery overlooking Orleans Street.

  Hallie couldn’t take her eyes away from the chandelier hanging in the center of the room.

  “Are you going to stare, or dance?” I asked.

  “Only if I dance with you.”

  “That wasn’t part of the deal.” I felt a little hectic.

  “If you want to see me dance, I’m going to do it in your arms.”

  “Too shy to dance by yourself?” I said. “Afraid, maybe?”

  “No. Why?” She raised one eyebrow. “Are you going to double-dog dare me?”

  “If I have to.”

  “Dance is personal.” Hallie always had excellent posture, but when she straightened her spine and squared her shoulders, the dancer in her took over. Breathtakingly beautiful. “It’s the only time I get to be free. I don’t perform very often, and a cage or a stage in a dance club doesn’t count.”

  “You … wear clothes when you do that?”

  “You’re really dropping judgment on me right now?” She knew I was teasing. I could tell by her smile.

  “No. I’m doing everything in my power not to picture it.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “You should,” I said. “I could pass out. That would be embarrassing.”

  “You’re a terrible tease.”

  “I know. I’m not sure how to approach this.” I’d have been more comfortable trying to figure out how to hack into the pope’s e-mail.

  “You can start by shutting up and putting your arms around me. Take my hand in yours. Put the other one on the small of my back.”

  “According to online surveys, the small of a woman’s back is one of the places she most wants to be touched.”

  “You touch me there all the time. Do you read a lot of surveys about where women like to be touched?”

  “Um.”

  “Where are some of the other places?” She met my eyes dead on. “If you think I’m going to let this go, you’re so, so wrong.”

  “Clavicle.”

  “And?”

  “Crooks of elbows. Backs of knees. Nape of neck.”

  “You’re leaving out some really obvi—”

  “Hallie?”

  She grinned and batted her lashes. “Yes.”

  “Maybe we should just dance.” My palm met hers while my other hand settled on her waist.

  There was a subtle, slight hitch in her breathing.

  “Your breath just caught.” I said it without thinking.

  “Maybe it did. So what?” She angled her chin up at me.

  “Nothing. It’s just … it’s only fair. You make mine catch all the time.”

  Chapter 12

  Hallie

  I’d never swooned in my life.

  But if Dune kept talking sweet to me, I was going to need a fainting couch and smelling salts pronto.

  His touch was gentle, and he smelled like the ocean. Not fishy ocean, but expensive, man-made, bottled interpretation of the oc
ean. I couldn’t believe how nervous I was in his arms, or how overwhelmed I was by my emotions when he pulled me closer.

  Then the world melted around us.

  Rivulets of the past flooded over the present, and the song playing in my mind bloomed from a few simple notes to a full orchestra. What I thought would be a waltz became a quadrille. Dune’s face faded. A masquerade mask replaced it, and the rip world replaced my own.

  The eyes behind the satin assess me from head to toe. A cool

  expression turns warm as what he sees passes muster. When the time comes to switch partners, he pulls me from formation.

  “Cecile?”

  I nod.

  “You look beautiful. The dress pleases you?”

  I nod again and offer a tentative smile.

  “I’m going to arrange a meeting with your mother. Does this please you, too?”

  “Monsieur Brionne.” My maman interrupts us. She wears a yellow dress of a much brighter shade than my own. Both complementary of our dark hair and skin. My skin and …

  … not my skin. I looked down at my fingernails, not recognizing the oval shapes and bitten nails. I didn’t bite my nails.

  “May I call upon Cecile tomorrow?” Monsieur Brionne asks my maman. He keeps his hand at my waist, and I know that he doesn’t want to let me go. Something about the way his fingers grip my waist is worrisome; as is the look in his eyes that tells me he hopes I’ll be alone tomorrow when he calls.

  “That will be agreeable.” Maman dips her head into a slight bow.

  The music begins, slow and disarming, and we step back into the throng of dancers, everyone here is part of the system of plaçage, arranged left-handed marriages of prosperous white men and women of color.

  The soft glow of an electric chandelier replaces candlelight, and

  the smell of calla lilies perfumes the air as bodies whirl around me.

  Monsieur Brionne stops, and I spin out of his arms. The room fades, tilts, and the light changes, going from soft focus to sharp relief.

  “A joining of two fine families.” I jump when a man with a shiny, bald head claps me on the shoulder. “Congratulations.”