by Amber Kizer
I wanted to return the favor and tugged on his T-shirt. “Off,” I demanded.
“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled, moved aside, leaving me cold while he peeled off his shirt. His sweats rode low on his hips, and a V of muscle disappeared below the drawstring. Before I could engage my brain enough to think about the bulge against the elastic, he returned to me.
When he came back, his skin was on fire, so hot I thought the temperature in the room must have climbed in response. He caught his weight on his elbows, bracketing me between his arms, my legs on either side of his hips. I ran the soles of my feet along the crisp hairs on his lower legs. They tickled.
My hands roamed his back and ribs, learning each indent, each rolling hill of lean muscle, sinew, and bone.
We kissed again, this time with more pressure, more urgency. My eyes closed while my other senses grappled for their bearings. My sense of touch set every nerve ending electrified, engorged. My nose picked up nuances of aroma clouding us: musky heat, soap, and fabric softener. I heard each hitch of his breath, the rub of our skin together and against the sheets, our heartbeats syncopating. I ran my tongue around the sharp edges of his teeth, the warm satin of his inner lips. I’d never felt so desired, so powerful and wanted.
He leaned to his side, towing me with him so he could better reach my breast. He tugged and played, until I wanted the same treatment to the other one. I couldn’t hold still, couldn’t form sentences, never wanted to stop.
Pressure built inside me. An urgency I couldn’t name. A want I couldn’t ask for by name.
His hand left my breast bereft and roamed lower across my stomach. His fingers dancing, massaging, testing my flesh in a way I’d never been touched. Don’t stop. He paused when he came in contact with the elastic band of my panties.
I bit his bottom lip, opened my eyes. I kept him captured until he opened his eyes and met mine. I smiled against his mouth and lifted my hips, nudging his hand in the process.
I lost myself in his midnight gaze. He didn’t close his eyes; they were stormy, as if the black of his irises swirled and pooled like India ink.
His face was as open and vulnerable as I felt. And completely mine.
He let his hand rest between my legs. I wanted pressure, friction. More. I moved against his palm.
I reached for the drawstring on his sweats. I wanted to feel him, to know the difference between his secret places and my own. Above all, I wanted to feel him inside of me. He dragged in a breath, catching my hands.
Outside, Custos barked and growled. Tens froze and listened. She barked rapid-fire warnings; her growl was a low rumble that broke the spell around us.
Tens pulled away, untangling our limbs, his chest heaving with the exertion.
I felt sweat cooling against my skin. “It’s just a raccoon or a possum,” I said.
“Maybe.” He sat on the edge of the bed with his back to me. “Maybe not. I’ll check.”
I leaned up and kissed between his shoulder blades. “It’s nothing.” I wanted to beg. I wanted to curse Custos. For a moment, we were just two people in love and into each other. We weren’t the cosmic destinies of Fenestra and Protector. “Please come back.”
“Merry, I don’t have any—”
I interrupted him. “I don’t care.”
“I do.”
The mantle of responsibility fell hard back onto my shoulders. The stony expression on Tens’s face as he picked up his T-shirt and shrugged it back on told me this night was over.
“I’m going to run.” He grabbed his sneakers and didn’t look back as the front door closed behind him.
Is he running from me? Or something else?
And then the truck started and he peeled out. When I got to the window I saw the taillights as he turned onto Main Street.
Baby, I am lying in the courtyard grass watching the Perseid meteor shower. You kick each time I see a shooting star, as if you too can see with my eyes.
—R.
CHAPTER 27
Juliet
The little alarm that used to belong to Mr. Franklin was set to buzz at four a.m. I turned it off at 3:31, deciding a day of work without sleep was better than trying to function after getting only a few minutes. As if I could fall asleep anyway. I dragged on woolly socks that had originally belonged to a guest I couldn’t remember, one from months ago. A thick sweater and yesterday’s jeans were the only relatively clean clothing options. Doing my own laundry took a backseat to everyone else’s.
The walls of DG closed in on me and claustrophobia clawed at my gut. I needed a sliver of nature, a space of oxygen. I snuck out the back door and ran down the sloping lawn, toward the back fence. Using branches and an old stump, I climbed the fence and hopped to the other side. The cold chased wishes of sleep from my head and battled the exhaustion back to the periphery of my mind.
I shimmied out onto my favorite leaning tree, which dangled above the creek. I straddled it like I was riding a horse, lying forward with my cheek pressed against the rough bark. The stars shone brightly and a full moon spotlit the shadows and shades of vegetation. Grays, blacks, blues, and browns competed with whites and ecrus, a battle of light and dark around me.
Movement made me glance above. A great horned owl glided past using the creek as a byway, Interstate Wildcat. Her wings flapped once, silently, to guide her up and over the treetops. In the distance, I heard her mate call greeting and even the shriek of owlets.
From under my bra strap I dragged the piece of paper Nicole had copied, and pulled a flashlight from my back pocket. I needed to see what this piece of my file said. What if Mistress is wrong and my mother didn’t abandon me? What if she wanted me and loved me? More frightening still, what if Mistress is right?
It was a handwritten note; I didn’t recognize the scrawl. I held it closer to my face trying to read it. Words wrapped around each other, and smeared ink made it nearly impossible to decipher other ones.
Juliet Ambrose entrusted to
St. Jerome Emiliani’s Home for Children
March 20, 1996
Date of Birth: 2-10-1993
Observation 1996–99
June 1996: Empathetic with other children
June 1997: Brings animals inside her dormitory room.
Unclear if animals are already dead or if she kills them.
June 1998: Bullied and outcast, very clingy
June 1999: Transfer to Dunklebarger. Keep eye on her development.
No photographic image. Test annually.
I didn’t recognize the name of the children’s home; none of this information made even a little sense. February tenth was my birthday, but I remembered nothing of my life before arriving at DG.
A twig cracked in the woods behind me. I slung a look over my shoulder at Mini, who meowed at me from the bank. “Don’t want to get wet, do you?” I asked her.
She answered with a disdainful yowl that critiqued my sanity. I watched as she twitched her tail and wandered off along the path. I turned back to the paper, trying to make sense of what I read. When I next looked up for Mini, a dog—a wolf—had its nose pressed against her head. Their exchange was so unexpected I nearly lost my balance. I tightened my thighs around the tree to catch myself. They seemed like friends.
It was only then I realized a man stalked deeper in the forest behind them. I saw his dark shape watching me. I gasped, dropping the paper and the flashlight into the creek below me. I lost my balance and fell forward onto my stomach.
The paper swirled down the stream.
“Sorry, sorry.” He rushed forward and leaned out over the water toward the log and my perch. “I’m Tens, remember? I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You were here before. Twice.” I sat up, but didn’t move toward him nor take his hand.
He dropped it. “With Meridian, my, um, girlfriend.” The wolf licked his fingers and seemed pleased to have him here.
I didn’t know what to say. “You came into DG; you lied about car trouble.”
“Trouble?” I asked.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. He was so tall I felt short. His broad shoulders were straight as a plank of lumber. “Could you come off there before you fall in?”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so.” At least out here I had distance between us. Though no one would hear me if I screamed, I doubted anyone up at DG would care.
He nodded, as if he had expected me to say no. I guess it might look scary, me up here dangling, but I knew this trunk as well as I knew my own body. Better, maybe.
“Trouble?” I repeated. “What do you mean?”
“It’s hard to explain.” He blew out a breath that was either frustration or irritation, maybe both, maybe directed at me.
“Try,” I pushed.
“Merry would do this better. Why don’t you come with me? She can tell you.”
“No. Besides she already tried, remember?”
“Look, I know you don’t have reason to trust me, us, but try, please?”
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I needed to think.” His gaze dropped to the water.
“Here?”
He nodded. “I needed to check on you. Make sure you’re okay.”
“You keep saying that. Like you expect me not to be.”
He stayed silent.
I blinked. “Are you saying I’m not okay?”
“I’m saying—” He sat down, rubbing his hands along his raggedy sweatpant-clad thighs. He wore sneakers without socks and a T-shirt that looked like it might fall apart with one more wash cycle. “I don’t know what I’m saying.” Maybe we had more in common than I thought.
I held my tongue. I knew what it was like to try to find words when there weren’t any. I should have felt fear, or at least discontent, out here, alone with him in the middle of the night. But while I didn’t feel safe, I didn’t feel threatened.
He shook off the cobwebs and began, “There once was a girl—”
I cut him off with a snort. “In a faraway land? Does this end with ‘happily ever after’? Because, really, I can make up stories too.”
His eyes flashed irritation. “Just listen, okay? This girl was really sick all the time; she had inexplicable pains and animals died around her. She’d wake up with them next to her pillow; they’d die in her hands. She thought she was a freak. She thought she killed them with her mind or was monstrously evil. She didn’t know what was going on, but as she grew older the animals grew in size, and in number. Her physical symptoms got worse too. Exhaustion, malnutrition, stunted development. Until—” He broke off and looked at me.
My heartbeat stuttered. There were parts of this I recognized as my own truth. “I’m listening.”
“Until she turned sixteen and found out that not only did animals seek her out as they died but so did people.”
“What happened?” I asked, curious and drawn to this tale. I felt the maze of my life lose a few of its blind corners.
“She was special. A special kind of human that long ago added angel to her ancestry. She found out that she was a window for souls to pass through to the afterlife. But knowing wasn’t enough. She had to learn how to let the souls through without being dragged along with them.”
“Or what?” I cocked my head and played with the bark under my fingers.
He hesitated. “Or she died, too.”
I snorted. “Cheery story.”
“There’s more. You want to hear?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
“There were evil angels after this girl. They wanted to force her to choose between the people she loved and becoming one of them.”
“Did the prince ride in and save her?”
“No, she saved him.” He shook his head with a smile that seemed very personal.
Not the answer I expected. “Then what?”
“Then the girl and the boy were told they had to find more people like themselves. More people to work for good and help souls make it to the window. And they had to defeat the bad guys, no matter what.”
“And?”
“And they’re trying. They’re really trying. They’ve found another girl and they want to help her.”
I saw lights blink on high up in DG’s attic. Nicole was awake. Time to go to work. “You need to work on your storytelling skills. That’s creepy.”
He nodded. “I told you Meridian would tell it better.” He backed away, giving me room as I crawled toward him.
I hurried along the tree, scooting until my feet touched the ground. “You owe me a flashlight.” And a piece of my history. But I didn’t say that last part out loud.
“Okay, we’ll leave one out here.” He seemed like he had more to say.
I’d believe it when I saw it. “Sure, whatever.”
Mini licked the wolf’s muzzle. I heard her purring.
“What’s the wolf’s name?” I asked.
He swallowed. “Custos. It means ‘guardian.’ ”
Weird name for a pet. I walked to the fence.
“Do you want to know what the cat’s name is?” he asked.
“Her name is Mini.” I hefted myself back over the fence.
“It’s Minerva. She says Bodie wants pancakes for breakfast.”
Nice try, crazy boy. “He doesn’t like pancakes.”
Tens shrugged.
I turned and ran back toward DG, Mini keeping pace with my strides. When I got to the door and looked back, Tens and Custos were gone.
“Morning.” Inside the kitchen, Nicole had coffee brewing.
“Hi.” I kept glancing out the window, expecting to see Tens standing there, waiting for me. I shook my head to clear my confusion. “It’s too early. You should still be asleep.”
“I came to help you.” Nicole started gathering ingredients. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” Confused. Near breaking. Falling apart.
She frowned but let my answer stand. “Bodie made the weirdest request last night as he was falling asleep.”
“He wants to watch a Disney movie?”
“No, he wants pancakes with chocolate chips in them for breakfast.”
I stopped, shocked. “He doesn’t like them.” He refused to eat anything but cold cereal or oatmeal for breakfast unless Mistress forced him. Even when I tried to make more interesting breakfasts and smuggle them to the kids, he stuck to his guns.
Nicole shrugged. “I guess he does now.”
Coincidence? Crazy? Maybe.
We worked in silence. Dishes and laundry and cleaning waited. I turned my mind toward the paper from my file and tried to decipher what little of it I’d read before losing it in the creek.
“Have you looked at that paper?” Nicole lowered her voice. “Anything interesting?”
I glanced around, feeling as if the walls of DG leaned closer to hear our conversation. I was becoming paranoid. “Nothing really helpful. I was at a kids’ home before coming here.”
“Do you remember that? Any people?”
I shook my head. “No, I remember waking up in the attic here.” With Kirian offering me his hand in friendship, love, and protection. Even though he was nine to my six years, he acted much older and took care of me until I learned the rules and routines.
“Oh, anything else?” She seemed disappointed.
“Can you— I need— Can you get a camera for me?”
Surprise made her freeze, then relax into a fake Southern accent. “Are you fixin’ to make Southern fried Kodak?”
I laughed. “No, I need you to take my picture.”
Nicole’s face grew troubled and she turned away, suddenly very busy. “Why?”
“I can’t explain it. Do you think you can find a camera? Soon?” I asked.
“Are
you sure?”
“Yeah, I want photos to give to Bodie and Sema when I leave.”
She nodded. “Give me a little time.” She wiped her hands on a towel and hung her apron before disappearing up the stairs.
“Juliet!” Mistress barked on the intercom.
Coming!
I found Mistress in her office, pointedly staring at the clock. It had taken me two minutes to get to her. That wasn’t fast enough.
“We have two new guests arriving today. They’re sisters, so they’ve requested the same room.” I knew this game. She’d charge for two rooms and tack on a special care fee for the privilege of a single. “Prepare the first room on the left; it’s the only one large enough. With the rash of deaths, we need these ladies happy for at least a day or two. I’m taking a vacation as soon as they’ve recovered. You’ll be on your own until your birthday.”
“No nurses?”
“Are you implying you can’t handle this?”
“It’s fine.” I nodded. Mistress taking a vacation? I’d never seen her shut DG down, never even heard that it had ever happened. Sure, she’d been more and more absent of late, but what would happen to the other kids?
“Get going.”
My feet were glued to the floor. I felt like I had to ask. “Excuse me, but what about—”
She sneered at me. “Everything is taken care of. Now go! They’ll be here by the hour, so I suggest you get moving!” she yelled in my direction, back to her preoccupation with her computer screen.
I had thirty minutes to clean the Green Room, change the bedding, and move in an empty hospital bed from another room. I’d need all hands on deck. The upstairs, especially the Green Room, was a disaster from the deaths the night before. I knew cleaning was top of my list today, but this felt like insanity. We usually got twelve hours’ notice before replacements arrived. For whatever god-awful reason, there seemed to be a waiting list to get in here. Why? I didn’t know. I assumed if a person was conscious, they’d choose other care. Maybe that was why they rarely stayed conscious long.