A Beautiful Dark

by Jocelyn Davies

  Her wings beat wildly, the cacophony of feathers deafening.

  I shut my eyes tight, wishing that would block out the noise, block out everything.

  When I opened them moments later, I was alone.

  I lay in bed, wide awake, willing sleep to come. Raven had accused me of changing Devin, but my hair smelled of Asher: spicy, earthy, dark. It made my heart pound to remember our kiss, his hands warm against my neck, fingers entwined in the strands of my hair.

  “I’ve wanted you,” he’d murmured, his lips barely touching mine, “for so long.”

  Energy rose off my skin in waves. Euphoric.

  I couldn’t get comfortable. I rolled over onto my stomach, buried my face in my pillow, and laughed and laughed until I didn’t know if I was laughing or screaming.

  If I did what Raven said and joined the Order, I’d never see Asher again.

  As I drifted off, Raven’s words echoed in my head: They’re just little pawns in the game. The last thing I consciously remember thinking of was the wounded look in Devin’s eyes as Asher scooped me up in his arms and we left him standing there on the school roof to repair the damage.

  And then the morning breeze rustled my curtains, sweeping a feather along the floorboards. It must have fallen when Asher had been in my room earlier. I watched as the wind blew it here and there, leaping, lightly touching down. Dark, like the night, like Asher’s eyes.

  Chapter 26

  As I pulled into the parking lot Tuesday morning, I was surprised to see Cassie’s green Volvo come to a jerking stop a few spaces over from mine. I got out and walked over to see her slam the driver’s-side door and kick her wheels in frustration.

  “Cass!” I called, waving as I approached. “Are you okay?”

  She gave me a cold look but didn’t refuse my help as I bent to inspect the tire. “It’s not the tire,” she said. “It’s something with the engine. It’s been giving me trouble the past few days.” She looked away. “Not that you’d know.”

  Instantly I felt bad that we hadn’t talked much lately, but I was now too tired and preoccupied to engage her in an argument. Time had been flowing really weirdly, in stop-start patterns, lurching forward and then dragging on for millennia. Besides, we didn’t have a rule that we had to spend every waking minute together, did we?

  She locked the car, and we walked to homeroom together. We kept talking, even though it was clear that there was some tension between us that we weren’t mentioning. The fact that she was mad at me annoyed me. The world always revolved around her, and the minute I had some major drama in my life, she couldn’t deal with the fact that I wasn’t focused on her.

  “It’s so frustrating,” Cassie said as we found our seats. “I just got a tune-up at the beginning of the year. My dad makes me get them, otherwise there’s no way I’d remember. I don’t know what could already be wrong with the engine. It just keeps stalling for no reason.”

  “I don’t know, Cass,” I said, aware that Devin was watching us as we sat down, and that Asher caught my eye before glancing away. “Can you take it in again?”

  “No way. I totally don’t have the money right now. Ugh, I hate my life.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said, determined now to make up for any lost points in the best-friend book so that Cassie would stop being mad at me. “We’ll figure something out.”

  The rest of homeroom seemed to last forever. Asher sat behind me, and his nearness sent tiny shivers down my neck, made my heart beat too fast. Devin sat next to him, and I couldn’t stop trying to figure out what was really going on. Could I trust either of them? My mind kept replaying my encounter with Raven the night before.

  You’re the reason he’s changing.

  I couldn’t understand it.

  In the hall after class, Asher caught up with me. “Hey,” he said. We stood there, facing each other.

  “What’s up?” I asked, smiling up at him.

  “How are you?”

  “Good,” I said, though it was an effort to think of the right words to say when he was looking at me. “Last night was . . .”

  “Yeah.” He looked like he was either searching for the right words or contemplating kissing me again. I was thrumming, every single fiber of my being alive and happy. “It was intense. A little too intense, actually.”

  I jerked away from him as if I’d been slapped.

  “What?”

  “I just think, you know, we should be careful. Maybe cool it for a little while. I don’t want either of us to lose our focus. This is so important, Skye. It’s bigger than we both know.”

  “That’s not what this is about,” I said, my hands beginning to shake. “You’re just scared.”

  “That’s not true, Skye. I—”

  “No, you’re right,” I said, cutting him off before he could say anything else. “This whole thing was just a giant mistake. We shouldn’t have kissed in the first place.” I could feel tears pricking my eyes, and I tried not to let them spill over.

  Whatever I had been feeling for him, whatever I wanted to keep feeling, shriveled within me into a cold, hard pit. And I walked away. As I turned the corner to the staircase, I caught Devin’s eye from where he’d been standing, watching the whole thing.

  After school, Devin was waiting by my locker. I was relieved to see Asher was nowhere to be found.

  “Hey,” I said as I approached. “Where’s your other half?”

  “Indisposed.” He sized me up. “You seemed stressed today. Do you want to go for a walk or something?”

  “With you?”

  “Yes, of course with me.”

  “Um, okay,” I said, wondering if I was walking right into a trap. Raven’s warning echoed in my ears, but she didn’t control me. Devin was sent here to protect me and help figure out what kind of strange powers I might be developing. I couldn’t just stay away from him. Besides, it was nice that he’d noticed I was upset. I needed a friend who understood what I was going through, and at that moment, I felt so far away from Cassie, Dan, Ian, and my normal life.

  We ditched my car by the entrance to one of the trails that Aunt Jo always took people out on. It was one of my favorites—well maintained but not too heavily trafficked. It was a nice afternoon. Devin listened as I told him how freaked out I was about everything.

  “I don’t get it,” I said, dejectedly kicking a tree branch that had fallen under the weight of a pile of snow. “This isn’t working.” I knew I was being petulant, saying things just to be difficult. “Maybe I’m not as special as you think—maybe I’m really just a normal person after all.”

  “Do you really believe that?” Devin asked. “Because I don’t.”

  “Yes. No. Probably not.” I bit my lip. “It’s just not going well. None of this.” I paused and snuck a glance at him out of the corner of my eye. “And I don’t know why.”

  “He’s impulsive.” I looked up, surprised at his words. “He says and does things without thinking.” Was Devin trying to give me advice? About Asher? “It’s . . . stupid.”

  I did something kind of inappropriate. I couldn’t help it.

  I laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” He looked confused, and then slowly the firm, unwavering line of his mouth broke into a shy smile. “Are you laughing at me?” His smile widened, and then I was smiling and laughing harder.

  “Sorry.” I gasped. “Sorry! It’s just, you, trying to give advice . . .”

  “Hey,” he said. “I give good advice. That was good, right?”

  “Well, it was okay. But you didn’t really tell me what to do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You just commented on something. You didn’t offer any constructive feedback.”

  Devin looked thoughtful.

  “How can I tell someone what to do?” he asked.

  I looked at him. He really was from another planet or something.

  “You just say, ‘Skye, suck it up,’ or ‘Skye, stop falling for idiots.’ It won’t work, bu
t hopefully I’ll have learned something for next time.”

  “I can’t do that,” Devin said. A note of sadness crept in there somewhere.

  “Why not?”

  “I can’t tell anyone what to do. I can’t give orders.” It dawned on me what he was saying, and my smile faded. “That’s the Gifteds’ job, not mine.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Sorry.”

  “It’s certainly not your fault,” he said stiffly. I sighed. How could I get him to laugh again?

  I looked at him sideways, thinking.

  “So, unlike Asher, you’d never do anything impulsive,” I said.

  “Absolutely not. I follow my orders. I never stray from them.”

  “What do you do when something unexpected happens?”

  “The Gifted can see our destinies so we always know what is going to happen.”

  “Soooo . . . you know that I’m going to do this?” I scooped up a mound of snow, quickly packed it into a ball, and hurled it at him.

  It broke apart, leaving a burst of snowflakes on his jacket.

  He stared at me as though I’d lobbed a fireball at him. “What did you do that for?”

  Now it was my turn to stare. “You’ve never been in a snowball fight?”

  “Why would I?”

  “Uh, because it’s fun?” I gathered up more snow and tossed it at him.

  He sidestepped.

  “Now you’re getting it.” I attacked again. “Throw some snow at me. Or can you not—if you haven’t been ordered to?” I taunted.

  “We can defend ourselves,” he said, slowly breaking into a grin.

  “Oh yeah? Show me.”

  As he bent down, I took cover behind a tree—which apparently confused him, based on the deep furrow of his brow when he looked up. “Why did you hide?”

  “Because we’re at war and my strategy is to hide.”

  He dropped the snow he’d been gathering, threw his hands up, and all the snow that had been on the branches above my head cascaded over me. With a shriek, I backpedaled away from the tree.

  “Not fair!”

  He was laughing. Deeply and richly. He didn’t stop even when my next snowball hit him square in the face.

  Snow was suddenly swirling around me, a whirlpool of white. I was at a disadvantage. My fledgling powers couldn’t compete with his. So I lowered my shoulder and charged toward him.

  It was something else the Gifted apparently hadn’t foreseen—because I smacked into him and we both tumbled into the snow. His laughter abruptly stopped. Everything stopped.

  As I straddled him, I was acutely aware of the stillness: his, mine, the woods. His arms were around me, holding me to him. Our faces mere inches away. His eyes were that incredible blue beneath a layer of ice. I wanted to fall into them. Find the peace and tranquility they offered. Leave schoolwork and bruised hearts and insecurities behind.

  “What’s your world like?” I asked.

  “Beautiful,” he said, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. “We know our destinies so we don’t have to worry about the future. We all follow the rules, so no one is hurt and there are no unexpected consequences. It’s an eternal state of bliss. Nothing is unplanned or unexpected.”

  “And you’re happy there?”

  “I love it there. We have no jealousies, no pettiness. When I walk through the school here, I’m bombarded with anger and envy. I overhear people saying unkind things about one another. Here people are mean, cruel. Selfish. With the order, there is a beautiful lightness to our being.”

  “Your zen state,” I said, smiling.

  “Something like that. Yes.” Tentatively, he reached up and cradled my cheek in his hand. His palm was warm, his fingers gentle. His thumb neared the corner of my mouth and I had a feeling that he wanted to trail it over my lips. The blue in his eyes deepened. “My descriptions don’t do it justice. I want to be able to share it with you. I want to share so much with you.”

  He blinked as though he’d been in a trance. The intense moment between us faded. He shook his head. “I guess this means you won.”

  “Yeah, of course,” I said, forcing myself to disguise the shaking in my voice. My body quivered.

  I thought I’d felt confused before, but now it was even worse. I thought I’d been falling for Asher—but now, here with Devin, I wasn’t sure what I felt.

  They were so different. Light and dark. Peace and chaos. If I had a choice, I didn’t know which I would choose. Would my powers choose for me?

  Gathering my wandering thoughts, I smiled brightly. “I knew I’d kick your butt.”

  I rolled off him and shoved myself to my feet, avoiding eye contact as he got up. I wondered if he’d been able to read my thoughts. How embarrassing that would be. I glanced around.

  The sunlight peeked through the cracks in the trees as it sank lower in the sky. It was nearing sunset.

  “Hey, do you want to try something?” he asked hesitantly, and I wondered if he was grappling with the same emotions that were overwhelming me.

  Slowly I turned around. “Sure. Okay.”

  “Over here.”

  He took my hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world to do. We walked toward one of the largest trees and stopped at a tangle of wild alpine flowers. Devin bent down. At first I just stood there, but he looked up at me, nodding his head for me to bend down next to him on the trail.

  He pointed to a small lavender winter flower. The edges of its petals were browned and faded, the green of its stem blackened and sickly.

  “It’s dead,” I said.

  Devin nodded. A vague, subtle light emanated from his hands. He cupped them around the flower, and the light grew momentarily brighter.

  When he pulled both hands away, the flower was an intense, thriving purple, its stem long and tangled and green.

  It was beautiful.

  “I wanted to wait until we were alone to share this with you,” he said.

  “Can I . . . do that?” I heard my voice waver.

  “That is one path for your powers to take.”

  “Can I try?” He nodded for me to proceed. I reached over to find another dying flower amid the branches and stems. My hand brushed against his, and I felt him shiver. But I wouldn’t look up. Not yet. Devin brought his hands close to mine, cupping my own around the faded flower. Light still shone from his outstretched hands, illuminating the area so I could see what I was doing.

  Slowly, holding the flower in my right hand, I brought my left hand over to cover it. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to feel anything, but nothing stirred within my cupped hands. I waited. I could feel Devin beside me, holding his breath.

  “Open them,” he whispered finally.

  I pulled my left hand away, revealing the tiny blossom within.

  It was still dead.

  Silently, we headed back before the sun dipped too far behind the mountains for us to see where we were going. To my surprise, Devin walked me to my car.

  “How are you getting home?” I asked. “Wait, where is home?”

  “I’m renting an apartment. There’s a little complex over by Evergreen Street.” I looked at him, and for some reason, the thought of Devin in a small empty apartment made me sad.

  “I’ll drive you,” I offered. “Come on, get in.”

  “You’re sure it’s not too far out of your way?”

  “I’ll be fine.” I smiled at him. He grinned back. We got into the car.

  “Today was—” He cut himself off, instead busying himself with buckling his seat belt.

  “What?” I prodded. “Fun?”

  He smiled sheepishly. I opened my eyes wide in mock surprise, and he nodded.

  “I haven’t laughed so hard in a long while,” he said. “It was nice.”

  “Me neither,” I said. “It was.”

  My car hugged a tight curve, hurtling along the winding mountain roads in the dusk. The sun had set, and the sky was a deep, mood-ring blue, the kind of blue the ring gets before
it turns really, fantastically black.

  Devin was quiet in the passenger seat, every now and then letting me know when to turn, how far we had left to go. I wasn’t very familiar with that part of town, but it wasn’t a long drive at all. The complex consisted of a few rows of drab, brick homes. Devin directed me to his.

  I pulled in to the driveway and cut the engine.

  “This is . . . interesting,” I said. “How did you find this place?”

  “There aren’t too many places to rent an apartment in this town,” he said. “It was sort of this or sleeping out in that field back there.” He was trying to make a joke, but it wasn’t especially funny.

  “Devin?” I said. “Thanks again. For today. It was a big help.”

  He smiled again, and a kind of happiness filled the car.

  “You’re welcome, Skye. I’m glad.” He got out, unlocked his apartment door, and disappeared inside. A second or two later, I saw a light appear in an upstairs window.

  Suddenly in the car, in the quiet, I was gripped by loneliness. I couldn’t call my friends—they wouldn’t understand. I thought about calling Asher, but I didn’t even know if he had a phone or if he’d want to talk to me.

  I was miserable and exhausted. I just wanted to feel something different from what I was feeling. I didn’t want to go home to my empty house. I didn’t want to be alone.

  I got out of the car, walked up the short, concrete driveway, and rang the doorbell. A few seconds later, Devin opened it.

  “Skye?” he asked, confused.

  “Can I stay here tonight?” I didn’t explain. I knew if I did, I would start crying, and I didn’t want Devin to see me like that. I needed a friend, and right now, he was the only one who understood what I was going through.

  Without a word, he opened the door wider, allowing me to pass.

  Chapter 27

  The dawn light crept in through the blinds. I’d slept so soundly, hardly waking up in the night. It was the most rested I’d felt since turning seventeen. Then I noticed Devin’s arm slipped around my waist, and became aware of his body pressed against mine, moving softly in time with his breathing.

  I was afraid to move for a minute or two. I didn’t want to wake him. Instead I tried to relax, getting used to the feel of his arm around me. Getting used to being held. I closed my eyes again and tried to fall back asleep. It was all I wanted—all I needed, right then. But still something didn’t feel right.