Donna had a moment of doubt, suddenly wishing she were back downstairs with Navin. But she shook it off. Surely sitting with this guy couldn’t be any worse than hanging out with Melanie and her clones.
She allowed herself to be pulled the rest of the way up onto the roof.
Donna sat on a narrow bench bolted to the roughly hewn roof-deck. Her new companion sat at her feet, directly on the platform built onto the roof, leaning against what looked like a protective railing. She shifted uncomfortably in the silence and watched him as he flicked away the butt of whatever he’d been smoking.
He tilted his head until they were looking into one another’s eyes.
Donna’s chest felt tight, and a strange, watery feeling sloshed around in her stomach. His eyes were the greenest she had ever seen. Viridian-bright, but with textures swirling within that looked like fresh moss on the bark of a tree. She wondered if he was cold in his thin lilac shirt (and how many guys could get away with that color?), then saw a black sweater discarded at his side. His toffee-colored hair was a shade or two lighter than hers, short at the back and longer on top so that it fell choppily into those otherworldly eyes. His skin was smooth and golden, as if he’d just returned from vacation.
“Aren’t you scared of falling?” Donna almost jumped at the sound of her own voice.
Just for a second, the guy looked as though he might smile. Instead, he leaned his head back, resting it against the peeling, black-painted iron railing. He stared straight up into the star-filled sky.
“Well?” Donna prodded. “Aren’t you?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
She continued to watch him. Why had she even come up here? This whole evening had been a huge mistake.
But she couldn’t help gazing at his wide mouth, with its full bottom lip, and letting her imagination go crazy. She had a sudden picture in her head of kissing this unknown boy. Well, not exactly a boy … he looked older than her by at least a couple of years. She knew that his lips would be soft but insistent, that lazy half-smile suddenly transformed into something more intense.
She shook her head, squeezing her eyes tightly shut, then looked back at him. His eyebrows were raised in what could have been either curiosity or amusement—Donna couldn’t tell which. She blushed, and instantly hated herself for having such a childish reaction.
“What were you thinking about just then?”
Donna pulled her knees up against her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Nothing.”
“Nothing. Right.” He made that last word stretch out for a lot longer than was polite.
Donna tossed her hair and looked away, clenching her black-gloved hands into fists against her jeans.
His burst of laughter took her by surprise. What surprised her even more was that the next moment they were laughing together. She wondered how she knew that he was someone who laughed as rarely as she did. It felt like he knew this too, and that they were sharing a secret moment of humor they could hide from other people, keep just between the two of them—strangers united in an unspoken contract of … something. It was exhilarating and scary.
Getting her breathing back under control, Donna looked over at her companion once more. “So, what’s your name?”
“Xan. Yours?”
“I’m Donna. Underwood.” She cringed inwardly at the sound of her voice. Why did she always have to sound so young ? “Is your name short for Alexander?”
“Ah. Beautiful and wise, this Donna Underwood.”
She could have felt offended at his tone, but she noticed the glint in his eyes and decided it was nice to be teased by someone other than Navin.
“You’re not enjoying the party, then?” she asked.
“I should hope not.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shifted his position slightly, making it easier for him to look up at her. “Well, it wouldn’t do to enjoy one’s own party, would it?”
Donna found herself blushing again. “Oh, you’re Alexander Grayson.”
“Pleased to meet you,” he replied, smiling that strange half-smile again. “I’d be even more pleased if you’d come down here with me. I’m getting an appalling crick in my neck.”
She wanted to say something cool and sophisticated, maybe even ask him why he wanted to sit on the edge of the roof, why he couldn’t come join her on the bench instead, but there was something in his voice that made her hesitate … a vulnerability hovering just beneath the surface that made her wonder about him. She slid down onto the platform and tried to figure out where he was from. He had a vaguely British accent, it seemed, with a touch of Bostonian around the vowels and maybe something else, too. Something a little more exotic.
She tucked her legs beneath her and settled down a short distance from Xan.
“That’s better,” he said. “It’s not as cold once you get down here.”
Donna did feel cold. She was acutely aware of her short sleeves, with only the velvet of her gloves offering the illusion of warmth. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself tightly, feeling unbearably shy as this stranger watched.
Xan held out the sweater she’d noticed earlier. “Here, put this on.”
She hesitated, but only for a moment. “Thanks.” Quickly pulling the still-warm material over her head, she tried not to be too obvious as she took in the scent of the sweater’s owner. Deodorant or aftershave, perhaps; cigarette smoke; and something else, something that spoke of moss and trees and wide open fields of swaying grass. Frowning, she met his curious gaze and tried to tidy her dishevelled hair.
“So,” he said. “What high school do you go to?”
Hating that he’d immediately guessed her age, Donna tried to keep the frown off her face. “I don’t.”
He raised golden-brown eyebrows. “You’re in college?”
“No, I’m home-schooled. I’m a senior. I still have to go to Ironbridge High for exams and stuff, but other than that I’m out of the rabble.”
His lips quirked. “Can’t blame you for that. Why home-schooled?”
“Let’s just say I had a disagreement with a significant portion of the student body.”
“Ah.” Xan shifted so that his body turned toward her, then stretched long arms above his head and yawned loudly. Donna wasn’t fooled by his lazy movements and sleepy eyes—this guy was sharp, underneath the laid-back exterior.
“What about you?” she asked.
“What about me?”
“You know, schools, colleges … ” She let the question drift off. Maybe it would be rude to let on that she knew he’d dropped out of college.
“I went away to college last year. Things didn’t work out.” He fixed her with his emerald gaze. “But you probably knew that already.”
She ignored the sudden blush warming her cheeks. “I’d heard something, but I don’t make a habit of listening to gossip—especially because I’m usually the subject of it.”
He gazed at her for a long moment. “I’d love to hear what people say about you, Donna Underwood.”
She bit her lip and changed the subject. “So, what are you doing up here when the party’s down there? Shouldn’t you be playing host or something?”
His laugh echoed with bitterness. “Yeah, like I’m the perfect host.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing. I just agree to stupid things when I’m bored.”
There was silence. Donna fiddled with the sleeve of Xan’s sweater. She didn’t know what to say anymore, and was again regretting coming up here. She thought of Navin, downstairs with the crowd, and wished they could just go home. If she hadn’t left her cell phone in her coat pocket, she’d be able to check the time. Her stomach clenched as she pictured her aunt’s return home and remembered her standard weekend curfew.
“What time is it?”
Xan pulled out his cell. “Not long ’til midnight, Cinderella.”
She smiled at that. “I actually do have to go soon.
I only have an hour before I’m supposed to be home. And my friend is probably looking for me.”
He nodded. “I hope I didn’t scare you off. I can be a little—” He hesitated. “A little bit eccentric, I guess.”
“Do you work at that, then?” Donna teased.
“Only when I want to impress pretty girls.”
Pretty? Was this ridiculously hot guy calling her pretty? Donna started to get up, but his hand on her arm stopped her.
“Why do you wear the gloves?” he asked. “It’s not just fashion, is it?”
Donna attempted a light tone. “You think I’d wear these for fashion?”
He conceded her point with a slight smile. “Seriously, though. Why?”
Her heart contracted and she found it difficult to breathe. Why did she feel so compelled to tell this guy the truth? She looked down at her covered hands. “Because I’m different,” she said finally, her voice barely audible.
“Me too,” he replied, almost as softly.
They looked at one another again, Donna’s somber gray eyes gazing into his green. Stone and forest. Iron and leaf.
“I knew that … ” she began slowly. “I know things about people, sometimes.” Her intuition had always been good.
The corner of Xan’s mouth quirked upwards. “What do you know about me?”
Donna closed her eyes for a moment.
Unbidden memories flooded her, pushing into her mind with a cold weight that took her breath away. Memories of a dark and whispering wood, a clearing, and the sound of death following at her heels. Her memories, not his. At least, she thought they were her memories.
She pushed the images away and opened her eyes to find Xan watching her with curiosity.
It had been a long time since she’d allowed herself to think about what had happened to her in the Ironwood. She dreamt of it most nights, but to see it so clearly just now, when she was awake … Donna trembled, hoping Xan didn’t notice, and tried to smile.
“Well, you’re tough to read,” she managed to reply. Why were memories of Ironwood Forest coming to her so easily right now, when she was trying to focus on Xan? The mood had changed, and she felt as though she was on the edge of something important and scary.
“You are too, Miss Donna Underwood.” He dug into a pocket and pulled out a small tin of tobacco. “Hey, do you smoke?”
“Ew, no way.” The words were out before she could stop them.
Xan didn’t seem offended. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he began to open the tin. His fingers were long and tanned, and there was a fluid grace to his movements … an intense energy that made Donna feel breathless as she watched him. He wasn’t like anyone she’d ever met before.
“You really are different, aren’t you?” She cringed inwardly after she spoke, wondering what had possessed her to say that. Maybe it was the vulnerable look on his face. Or the way he tried to hide things, yet seemed to want to invite her into his world.
He nodded, very slowly. “I guess we all have secrets. Like you’re hiding something with those gloves.”
Her eyes slid away first. She couldn’t do it—she just couldn’t quite bring herself to reach out to this person. She’d only just met him; what is wrong with me? she thought. Here she was, tempted to spill the secret of how her hands had been magically remade, spill it just as easily as the kids downstairs spilled beer on the carpet. She bit her lip and kept her mouth shut.
Xan shifted to a cross-legged position and began filling a cigarette paper with tobacco. “It seems the sharing has ended.” His voice had gone flat again; the drawling tone had returned.
Donna stood up too quickly and the rush of dizziness almost overwhelmed her. “I really should go. I have to get a cab.”
“Of course,” Xan replied, tucking the newly made cigarette behind one ear. “I’ll help you climb down.”
She backed away before his hovering hand could touch her. “No thanks, I can do it myself.”
But he followed her anyway.
When they were back in the bedroom below, Donna didn’t know what to say. Something about Xan made her feel connected, even though she knew almost nothing about him. She was often comforted by the sense of connection she felt with Navin; Navin made her feel like she actually had some semblance of a normal life (whatever that was). But this was different.
Xan was different.
Donna wriggled out of the black sweater, feeling suddenly overheated and awkward as she handed it back to Xan. Her eyes wandered to the digital clock by the side of the unmade bed. His bed. “Crap. I really have to go. Navin will be looking for me.”
“Navin?” His eyebrows shot up. “Ah, the boyfriend.” He made it a statement.
“No, just a friend.” She shrugged. “My best friend, actually.”
“Oh.” Xan rubbed a hand across his face. “Can I call you? I think we have a lot more to talk about … ” Just for a moment, he sounded uncertain of himself. It gave Donna the courage to take a chance.
“Sure.” She reeled off her number and he punched buttons on his cell phone.
When Xan stepped toward her, though, she found herself wanting to run. Just who the hell was Alexander Grayson? But she forced herself to stand her ground. Xan reached out a hand, and she held her breath as he gently moved back a strand of hair that had fallen into her eyes, tucking it behind her ear.
Warmth spread through her body as she attempted a smile. Donna realized, for the first time, that she had to look up to meet his eyes. He was tall. Taller than Nav, she thought, and immediately felt disloyal.
Xan’s hand dropped to her shoulder as they watched each other. And then his retreating fingers brushed her arm, right where the edge of her black glove met the white skin of her elbow.
There was a sudden spark, like static electricity—only a lot stronger.
Donna jerked away from Xan’s touch as an aching filled her hands and arms. It was like a cramp, but an impossible sensation that attacked bone rather than muscle. She remembered the pain of her childhood—multiple “operations” on her disfigured arms as Maker worked on her with metal and magic, and the expression on Aunt Paige’s face when she visited after each procedure.
“What the hell was that?” Xan was looking at her as if she was something both precious and dangerous. His voice was pitched low, and his eyes flashed in the dimly lit room. He rubbed his hands together as though they were cold and glanced at the half-open door.
Donna swallowed. “What was what?” The ache in her bones was now more like a tingling sensation that spread throughout her arms. She needed to get out of here. Whatever had just happened between them, she would think about it later, when she didn’t have to breathe under the intensity of Xan’s gaze.
He scowled. “You felt it too. Don’t tell me you didn’t feel it.”
Donna took a step toward the door. “It was just an electric shock. No big deal.”
For a moment, she wondered if he was actually going to try to stop her from leaving. Her heart pounded and she resisted the temptation to rub her arm.
But Alexander Grayson just stood and watched her, almost as though he might be able to look into her if he tried hard enough.
Donna walked quickly toward the door, glancing back only once as she let herself out. She headed downstairs in search of Navin.
Navin, predictably, was furious with her. “Where have you been? I’ve been searching everywhere for you. I called your phone, like, a hundred times.”
Donna couldn’t help thinking he sounded like a parent who’d lost his child at the shopping mall, but she managed to keep her smile under wraps. “Don’t exaggerate,” she replied, checking the missed calls on her cell as she tucked herself into her coat. Her eyebrows lifted when she saw just how many phone calls she’d missed. “Oh. You did call a few times, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did!” Navin practically exploded. “I didn’t know what to think. I started to wonder if Melanie and her minions had gotten hold of you.”
“I’m sorry, Nav,” she said, “but what did you think Melanie would do to me? Looks like you have her eating out of the palm of your hand, anyway.” There was also the fact that Melanie Swan hadn’t messed with her directly since the infamous Incident. Donna tried to think of something else, yet the memory kept pushing its way up into her mind like a stubborn weed.
“Shut up, Underwood. Don’t try distracting me; you’re in big trouble.” Navin pointed to the dial on his watch. “Shit. And there’s going to be even bigger trouble for you if we don’t get home in the next half hour.”
Donna frowned. “It’s not like Aunt Paige is going to boil me alive … ”
“I wouldn’t be too sure. Last time you came home late with me, she threatened to hex me.”
“She was kidding!” Okay, so her aunt liked to cultivate a quirky alternative/New Age type of persona for those outside the Order, but sometimes Nav took it a bit too seriously. He was half-convinced that Paige was a modern witch—which wasn’t a million miles from the truth. Sort of.
“Look, I said I was sorry for worrying you.” Donna tried to steer the conversation away from her aunt.
Navin put a casual arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze; she knew all was forgiven. “What were you doing, anyway?”
“I was getting some air, up on the roof.”
“On the roof ?”
She smiled. “Where better?”
He shook his head, smiling faintly. “You’re weird, you know that?”
Donna looked at him innocently as they headed toward the front door. “I thought that was why you hung out with me.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly why.” Navin rolled his eyes. “Come on, I called a cab already.”
She laughed and opened the front door, but hesitated when footsteps hurried down the long hallway behind them.
“Donna, hold up a sec!”
The Iron Witch Page 2