by Ainsley Shay
“That’s not a bad thing.”
He shook his head. “No, it most certainly is not.”
“Listen, my day has pretty much sucked from the moment I woke up, so I’m going to the bathroom to freshen up.” When I stood, he stood. “Talk about old-fashioned,” I teased.
In the bathroom, I took the full time allotted to freshen up. I could do little about my puffy eyes or reddened cheeks, but the cool water on my face and neck helped me to at least feel refreshed.
“Feel better?” Blacwin asked, standing when I returned. Our coffees were on the table.
“Much, thanks.”
He combed his fingers through his hair. “So, do you want to talk about what happened today?”
Skelside. The image was quick to form in my head and his smile was so easy that I almost spilled my guts, but I caught myself before the castle and the slithering creatures developed fully into words. The only thought that I couldn’t control was Mr. Pene’s pinning eyes jarring me back into Hell. I did my best to shrug it off. “Just school stuff, I’ll get over it.”
He nodded. “I’m going to call your bluff, but I’m not going to pry. Fair enough?”
That brought a smile to my lips. “Fair enough.”
“So, I already know you don’t believe in aliens, vampires, or zombies, you like the maze, tacos, and you’ve lived here your whole life, except the time you left for art school for a few months. But, I bet there’s got to be a whole lot more to Iris Thorn than that.”
My name rolled off his tongue and out of his mouth so smoothly, and I wanted to hear him say it again, and again. “I don’t know your last name, so you’re one up on me.”
He shrugged. “I don’t have one.”
“Everyone has one.”
“I used to, but—”
“What, so your name is like Madonna or Prince?” I laughed at the comparison, knowing all the while that it was totally hot.
Blacwin actually blushed. “I never looked at it quite like that, but yeah, I guess so.”
There was a moment of silence between us. As we both sipped our coffees, the air around us felt heavier, and more intrusive. Then he broke the ice. “Okay, I’ve sworn to myself that I would find out more about you. Your likes, dislikes, loves, hates... So, here it goes: What’s your favorite band?”
“The Cure.”
“Favorite food?”
“Pizza.”
“Movie?”
“The Sleeping Dictionary.”
“Never seen it. Flower?”
“You should, and I don’t have one.”
“Favorite place?” he asked.
“I haven’t been there yet.”
“Good answer. Color?”
Silence immediately and completely surrounded us, as if a blanket had been thrown over a fire, smothering the moment.
“Well?” he asked.
I should just lie and tell him I didn’t have one. I wanted to look away from him, but I couldn’t. “I don’t know,” I whispered as I looked down and picked at my thumbnail.
Instead of bantering with me or throwing out color names I had no idea about, he simply asked me, “Why not?”
They say the truth shall set you free. “I can’t see colors.”
“None?”
I shook my head. “My whole life is a black and white movie.” Except my nightmares, I thought, but I left that part out.
He didn’t say anything for what seemed like an eternity. “Can I help you try to see what they look like?”
“That’s not possible.”
“Give me a chance,” he said, almost begging for the opportunity.
How could I refuse if that meant spending more time with him? “Okay,” I whispered under my breath.
He said in a low tone, as if to match mine, “We’ll have our first session on Saturday—that is, if you’re free.”
“I get off at five,” I said without any hesitation.
“I look forward to it.”
I stared into his eyes and let their dark warmth envelop me. I felt the need to break free from the intensity of the moment. “My turn.”
“For what?” he asked.
“Questions from me to learn your deepest, darkest secrets.”
He laughed, and the sound was harmonious and agreeable.
I began my line of questioning. “What’s the bravest thing you’ve ever done?”
“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”
I shook my head. “Nope.”
He acted as though he was pondering an answer, but then quickly said, “The bravest thing I’ve ever done would have to be that time I climbed a tree to rescue a kitten.”
“Liar. What’s your favorite moment?”
“Right now.”
“Liar.” I denied myself the moment to melt into the smile on his face, and fired off the next question. “What’s your favorite season?”
“Don’t have one.”
“Biggest fear?” I don’t know why this question flew out of my mouth without permission, especially without knowing the consequences—when they could possibly be devastating.
“I’ll never tell a soul.” I noticed his left eye squint the tiniest bit more than his right and the auto-gesture made my knees goes weak and the butterflies already flying in my stomach go wild, as if they had just been un-caged.
“Why are you here with me when you’re looking for another girl who used to live here?” I blurted out the question before I could stop myself.
He didn’t hold back. “I’m hoping she can help me.”
“With what?” I asked innocently.
Without hesitation, he said, “To kill someone.”
16
The week had been a complete downward spiral into my own personal hell. I tried to erase as much of it from my brain as possible. I had done a pretty good job except for Blacwin and my dad. Those two were permanent fixtures in my head. Blacwin had somehow managed to hardwire himself into my thoughts. The dumb girl side of my brain was happy he wasn’t looking for another girl that he was in love with. The sensible, logical, wiser side of my brain screamed at me to run far and fast away from him as possible. I mean, for shit’s sake, the man wanted to kill someone. Who tells another person that? But, there was still that mysterious thread that continued to tether me to him, and I needed to know why.
After we left the café, dumb girl side won over and I let him walk me home. At the bottom of the stairs to my apartment we stopped. He looked as though he might kiss me, and with dumb girl still in the driver’s seat, I would have let him. He lightly touched my arm and ran his fingers down the length of it until my hand was in his. Strands of his hair had fallen over his eyes. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly and I saw the tiny indent on his right cheek. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”
I closed the apartment door behind me and banged my head against it. Not as hard as it should have been, like a swift kick with the skill of a black belt.
The nightmare woke me. It was only two in the morning and I desperately needed the guard’s words out of my head and onto paper. I reached for the journal.
14 days after ~
After dinner with Lord Darenfys, Lady Catherine was escorted back to her room by the silent guard who had stood opposite her in the dining hall. As she past the painted dome, she looked up and saw Lord Darenfys with his wickedly handsome face and evil smile. Her stomach tightened and filled with ache. It felt like worms were wrapping themselves around her bowels and squeezing.
Once they reached the long hallway of closed doors, she asked the guard, “What was in the goblet? I know it wasn’t just wine.”
The guard did not answer her. He continued down the corridor and she followed. When he stopped, he leaned toward her. She thought he would finally tell her. The words he spoke were not what she expected. His voice was softer than she had imagined. “You can’t win.”
She came to a halt and looked up at him. “I have to, I can’t stay here.”
&
nbsp; “He won’t let you win. No matter how hard you try, he will make sure you’re his, forever.”
When he spoke the word “forever,” it sounded so final. Lady Catherine lifted her dress and ran down the hall toward her room. When the guard caught up to her, he gripped her upper arm. “My Lady—”
“Then help me,” she begged him. “Help me get out of here. Help me escape.”
He said nothing in return. His head dropped in defeat. She banged on his armored chest and pleaded for him to help her. He grabbed her wrists to stop her thrashing. They were red and swelling.
“Please, believe me, I wish there was something—anything, I could do...” He lowered her hands. “Every moment that has passed since I saw you in the carriage, I’ve wished I was patrolling alone that day, and sent you on your way.”
He started walking again. Baffled, she followed and tried to ask him what he meant, but he said nothing. When they stopped in front of her room, she turned and opened the door. The thick heavy wooden door creaked open. Only a candle was lit on the bedside table.
When she turned around, she saw that the guard still stood in the doorway. “Tell Lord Darenfys, I’ll be dead by morning.”
He started to protest, but she closed the door. She heard the lock being thrown. Lady Catherine screamed. She tore off the dress and ripped it to shreds.
After writing down the details, a selfish and awful thought made me smile: if Catherine killed herself, maybe the dreams would end for me.
The rest of the night passed without sleep. The deprivation made getting through my classes more challenging than usual. By the end of the day, I must have been beyond delirium when I let Snow talk me into going with her to Hence to see Chandler.
When I got home, a large box sat outside the apartment. It was from my roommate, Natalie. I pushed it inside, unpacked the contents, and then lay down on the bed. I needed rest before I went out with Snow tonight. Sleep, for once came easily; free of dreams and colors.
“Holy-crap-hell!”
“What?” I asked Snow, as I turned to look in the same direction she was. It didn’t take more than a second to realize exactly what she was looking at—not what, but whom.
Blacwin was sitting at a small table for two outside the cafe. “Is he not the most gorgeous specimen you’ve ever seen on this freaking planet or what?”
“Ahh...yeah.” Words were caught up in the violent whirlwind of bile rising in my throat. I watched as Blacwin picked up the mug and took a sip.
“I mean seriously, what’s going on around here lately? A damn male model convention or something?” Snow had said in a breathy voice.
A woman, with board-straight hair that fell to the middle of her back, sat across from him. Her back was to me, and I was thankful I couldn’t see her face. She crossed one sleek bare leg over the other. Her stiletto pump dangled like a dagger above the sidewalk. Her shoulders shook as if she laughed at something Blacwin had said. I had no idea why jealousy had decided to bury itself in the trenches of my gut—I hardly knew the guy. And besides, I wasn’t the jealous type.
“What do you mean, ahh...yeah? You sure as hell don’t need color to see all that hotness.” Snow hit my arm. “Are you sure we’re looking at the same guy?”
“I’m pretty sure we are.” I turned to leave and she grabbed my purse. “Let go. What are you doing? Didn’t your mother teach you that it’s rude to stare?”
“Oh, I would bet my life he’s used to people staring at him. I mean, look at him, Iris. Black button-down, only the top button opened, just enough to give me a peek of his beautiful chest—I can only imagine what’s underneath—he has hair you only see on a GQ cover, and those lips—don’t get me freakin’ started.” She shook her head, making an “mmmm” sound under her breath.
I tugged on her arm. “You’re out of control. Come on.”
I turned back to see if she was following. She wasn’t. Behind her, I saw Blacwin get to his feet and rush toward us. He called out my name. It felt like I was in a movie. If I looked at Snow right now, I’d most likely see my best friend riding through several emotions—initial surprise that would rise to preliminary shock, and then full-on stupefaction.
Blacwin bent and kissed my cheek. “How are you, Iris?”
My stomach might possibly have caved in on itself as my head swam. I managed to say, “Fine. You?”
“Good. I’m glad. I’m doing well, thanks.”
Snow reached around and pinched my backside. “Ow—Blacwin, this is Snow, I mean Morgan. Morgan, meet Blacwin.”
“You’re taco guy?”
His eyebrows shifted together in confusion, and then recognition turned into a grin. “Yes, I guess that would be me.”
I couldn’t help but look around him in the direction of the woman he was sitting with.
Blacwin touched my arm. “Hey.” He waited to continue until I looked up at him. “It’s nothing,” he said in an almost whisper. “I promise.” He tried to form a smile, but only one corner of his mouth cooperated.
I nodded, not knowing what else to do. I wanted to ask him if she was the girl he had been looking for. The one who could help him kill someone. But I didn’t, especially not in front of Snow.
“I have to get back,” he said regretfully to me. Then he looked at Snow. “It was nice meeting you, Morgan.”
“You have no idea,” she said as a smile the size of a crescent moon spread across her lips. The girl had lost all sense of shame.
Blacwin took my hand, leaned down to my ear, and said, “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.” His lips brushed lightly against my cheek and tingles of warmth spread over my entire body.
Whether I believed him or not about the woman he was with, I couldn’t control the effect he had over me. I watched as he crossed the street and rejoined the woman at the table. She never once turned and looked in our direction, and for that, I was thankful.
“Why didn’t you tell me he looked like that?”
“What’s the difference?”
“Oh, I don’t know! Whatever.”
“I don’t even know what’s going on between us—if anything.”
Snow came to stand directly in front of me, her eyes wide, and her speech was slow as if she was trying to teach chemistry to a toddler. “He,” she pointed in Blacwin’s direction, “just rushed over here,” she paused and pointed her finger to the ground to let me know exactly where here was, then continued, “then, he kissed you.” Another jab, this time to my chest. “Finally, he whispers sweet nothings in your ear.”
“Yeah, thanks for the play-by-play, but I was standing here.”
Snow crossed her arms over her chest. “Okay, we all know that you’re as color blind as a three-legged dog, but tell me you’re not too blind to see that he’s totally into you.”
“We haven’t even kissed yet.”
Exasperated, she threw up her arms. “That’s it! First thing Monday morning, I’m having you committed.” She turned her back to me and started toward Hence.
17
The hours of the day moved too quickly, and I wished they would slow. Blacwin would be here in an hour to pick me up for my first lesson in colors. I was curious and excited to see him. There was also a twinge of trepidation. The oddest part about my mixed feelings was I felt safe with him, even knowing he planned to commit murder.
“You’ve been awfully quiet today,” said Mr. Yves.
I picked up a pile of books and set them on a side table next to the club chair. Propping my elbows on the stack, I lowered my chin in my hands and said, “It’s been an atypical week, to say the least.” I laughed, and the noise sounded forced and unnatural.
He adjusted his beret and looked at me thoughtfully. He knew it’d been rough for me, and I’d known he had noticed that the last week or so I’d been more out of sorts than usual. Mr. Yves was the type of man who took notice of everything going on around him, and then stayed quiet about most of it until he felt the need to step in. Today was that day.
&
nbsp; “I won’t argue with you there,” he said. Then, added a chuckle as an afterthought to lighten the mood. “Why don’t we close up early today? An hour won’t kill anyone.”
I wasn’t sure if I was grateful or upset.
A few minutes later, I put the key into the door of my apartment. The already opened door creaked as it swung inward. I’m sure I locked it this morning—positive, in fact. I gathered the strap of my messenger bag and tossed it behind my shoulder, wishing I had more of an actual weapon, like something sharp or menacing, but a forceful toss of my bag might throw the person off balance. Taking a deep breath, I lifted my leg and kicked the door open the rest of the way.
“What the hell are you doing here? And how did you get into my apartment?”
“Damn girl, do you always make an entrance like that?”
Chandler sat on my small couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table. He casually turned the page in my Cosmopolitan. “I came to visit you, and you weren’t home, so I let myself in.” He shrugged, like it was completely acceptable to break into someone’s apartment when they weren’t home. “By the way, you should get a better lock, like a deadbolt or something. You know, there are freaks around—strangers who want to...” He shook his head. “Never mind.”
Relaxing my pursed lips, I closed my eyes trying to steady my angry breaths and slow my too-fast beating heart.
Chandler patted the seat next to him. “Sit down, relax.”
I dropped my messenger bag by the couch and went into the kitchen. The empty shelves in the fridge reminded me that I had to go to the store. What if Blacwin wanted to come upstairs? I whipped around causing the door of the fridge to slam shut; the few glass jars of condiments rattled. I needed Chandler to leave so I could get ready. I walked back over to him and crossed my arms over my chest. “Please, tell me why you’re here so you can leave.”
“I just wanted to check on you. That’s it.”
“You’ve known me what—a week and a half? Don’t you think it’s a little odd how protective you are?”