Secondhand Shadow

by Elizabeth Belyeu

  The nurse shot us a concerned glance over her shoulder, but, busy with the other baby, did not approach.

  “She thinks, of course, that you’re the father,” Naomi murmured.

  “Yeah.”

  She took a deep breath. “You’ll have to be, you know. If you meant what you said. About not leaving. Whether Tyler’s a part of his life or not, you’ll be the one who’s there every day. You can’t do that halfway. You have to be his daddy. If you stay.”

  If.

  It would be easy to tell her that, my brain scrambled by my Lumi’s brush with death, I had said things I didn’t mean. She clearly half-expected it. Frankly, I more than half-expected it of myself. But the words didn’t come.

  Notably, neither did any reassurance to the contrary.

  I remembered that flash of bright, beautiful certainty, that moment I touched her hand and knew I could never want to leave her. I could feel that even now, all tangled up in the desperate need to protect her from Liberty, the breathless Shadow-fear that something could happen to my Lumi. How much of it — was any of it — my own feelings?

  “One thing at a time, shall we?” The words were wrong, wrong, but it was the best I could do. “First and foremost, we have to deal with Liberty. After that, things will be… clearer.”

  Naomi said nothing, and what little strength her body had harbored seemed to drain away. Neither of us said a word all the way back to the room.

  NAOMI

  A non-answer, I told myself, wasn’t the same thing as a ‘no’ answer. He needed time to think. It was a big decision, an identity-defining decision, and he had to make it on his own timetable, not mine.

  I curled into a miserable ball under the covers, to curse the various idiocies of his timetable in privacy. How strange, that it was Damon’s evasiveness that I couldn’t stop thinking about, rather than the idea of a serial killer out to get me. Damon was more real to me than Liberty, perhaps. Or else my brain had simply burned through all its store of terror for now.

  I slept, and woke again feeling a little stronger, not quite so much the Human Faucet, crying at the drop of a hat. Which was fortunate, since I barely got lunch and the breast-pump demo done before visitors started popping in.

  Audrey and Adonis showed up first, Audrey leaning heavily on his arm. I watched Mom rake the two of them with her patented Harpy Goddess of the Snob People glare, taking in their scruffy clothes and pale, hungry, generally unwholesome appearance. I wondered if Audrey’s resemblance to Ms. Hepburn would penetrate.

  “Can I help you?” Mom asked archly.

  “My name is Audrey, and this is… Don. We came to see Naomi.”

  “Hey, guys, come in,” I called. “Mom, Dad, these are some friends of ours.” Mom winced at that last word. “Audrey, Don,” good nickname, much less I Am a Crazy Person than ‘Adonis’, “these are my parents, and my brother Jonathan over there.” Jonathan was only pretending to be asleep, though I doubted our parents knew it. Still absorbing his new memories — or just avoiding Mom and Dad.

  I let Damon conduct the pleasantries, while I tried to see the visitors through Murder Suspect lenses. Someone had sicced a killer on me, my baby, and my little brother; I thought it was high time we figured out who, and no more time for Mr. Nice Guy. My determination was quickly shaken; Adonis had brought me primroses from his garden. Audrey, while she seemed genuinely glad to see me alive and well-ish, was here for the baby; she’d brought a gift basket with diapers, toys, knit hats and booties. I promised to pass the gifts along to Junior.

  I remembered Audrey touching my tummy and calling every baby a miracle. Damon had told me about Westley’s exoneration; surely Audrey could be cleared under the same criterion.

  I turned my attention back to Adonis. Despite the shabby clothes, he was — of course — startlingly beautiful: lithe and muscular, gorgeous red-gold curls, stately Roman nose. Jeans and a black T-shirt looked faintly unnatural on him; he belonged in a toga. Or a fig leaf. His Lumi had been a nightmare, lost in her own shifting reality — there was no telling what she’d put him through. Had he, as Ray Jimenez suspected, taken action to be free of her? He’d threatened Martin Iverson, been glad to see him dead, and I’d seen him put his fist through a wall in a moment of emotional excess. It was hard to think of him as violent — he looked so much like a poet — but I reminded myself that he drank blood for a living. Even the gentlest of orphans had that dark side.

  It did not escape my notice — nor theirs, I rather thought — that Damon was keeping himself at all times between the visitors and me. Just in case.

  Adonis smiled and nodded at me, but let Audrey do most of the talking, watching her with soft-eyed protectiveness. I made a mental note to ask Damon if it seemed to him that Adonis was sweet on his roomie. But even if he was, it didn’t make him not-Liberty.

  So. One for the suspect list.

  Almost as Audrey and Adonis left, Westley and Jewel arrived. As soon as he heard Westley’s voice, Jonathan opened his eyes.

  “Westley, nice to see you again,” Dad said, shaking hands.

  “Likewise. Everyone holding up?” Westley glanced past Dad at me, and I smiled, but something in that smile, or in Damon’s face, or in the way we weren’t touching at all, made his expression cloud for a moment. Dismay, exasperation, worry? “This is my friend Jewel Baye,” he continued smoothly, unwinding Jewel from his arm to present to my parents. She smiled coyly and curtsied. Mom frowned deeply, which seemed to amuse her.

  “Westley.” Jonathan’s voice was remarkably inflectionless. He struggled to a sitting position.

  “How are you feeling, Jonathan?” Westley asked cautiously.

  “Not… quite myself, really.”

  Westley ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Dad,” I whispered, tugging his sleeve. “Why don’t you take Mom to see the baby? Maybe get some dinner? It’s crowded in here.”

  Dad frowned but steered Mom out the door. Their footsteps faded down the corridor.

  “I’m sorry,” Westley said. “The other option was to let you die.”

  “I’m still trying to decide if I’ve lost my mind,” Jonathan said. “Or maybe I’m hallucinating.”

  “Neither, I’m afraid.”

  “You’re a vampire? All of you, even the girl who brought toys for the baby?” He glanced at me and Damon. “And you, Nims, you’re up to your ears in this! How long has this been going on?”

  Westley frowned. “Can’t you tell?”

  “It’s all out of order. Hazy, like a dream.” He rubbed his forehead.

  “It tends to work that way. Made worse by the concussion, I’m sure.” Westley seemed relieved. “It’ll probably make it easier for you to forget. Don’t dig at it, and it’ll get better. Wait, what are you doing?”

  “Getting out of this stupid bed. Damon, can you hand me my bathrobe? Me and Westley are going to go for a walk. Where are my shoes?”

  “Jewel, honey, why don’t you stay here with Damon and catch him up on the news from home?” Westley said, and before either of us could muster a proper protest, he and Jonathan were gone.

  Jewel patted my hand. “You’re so becomingly pale today, Naomi. Very romantic.”

  “Um. Thanks.”

  “You could almost be a kathair yourself. Don’t you think, Damon?”

  Damon glared and, in a gesture that managed to be reassuring and protective to me, and a sort of middle finger to Jewel, took my hand.

  She laughed, shaking her corkscrew curls. “Well, just look at that! Hard to believe he was trying to breach this time yesterday, isn’t it? A near-death experience can do that to a Shadow. My Jason used to threaten to kill himself if I left him. Got me every time. Just don’t be too disappointed, Naomi, when it wears off after a few days.” She leaned forward and kissed my forehead.

  “Naomi needs her rest,” Damon said, hooking his arm through hers and dragging her to the door. “Let’s talk out here.”

  The momen
t they were out of sight, I made my painful way out of bed and peered out the doorway.

  “ — off looking for Darling. With Paris gone, too, the house is very quiet.” Jewel took a deep breath, pushed a blonde curl out of her eyes. “How is she doing?”

  “Very well, considering. They’ll release her tomorrow, if she continues to improve.”

  She fiddled with the edge of his jacket, glancing up at him in a bashful, uncertain way that many probably found adorable. “And how are you doing?”

  Damon sighed, gently disengaging her fingers. “You can’t even help it, can you? You must have had one masochistic Lumi.”

  She looked away. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “It’s no use, Jewel. You’ll have to play your games with someone else. Though I’d take it as a favor if you’d leave Westley alone.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I hope this isn’t your way of saying you’re staying with that wilted weed in there.”

  “I…”

  “Damon, you can’t! I can’t watch you… You can’t just give up everything. For her. For anyone.”

  “I don’t know that I’d be giving up much, really.”

  “Which just shows how far gone you are.” I was startled to see tears in her eyes. “Damon, you don’t even know what an inspiration you’ve been to people like us. Showing us we can live, we can be free. We don’t have to just accept our lot, we can be real people, even happy people, without a Lumi. If that’s not true for you, then maybe it was never true for anyone.” She wiped tears and turned away, her tiny shoes tapping down the corridor as she fled.

  Damon watched her go, looking helpless and frustrated, and I hurried back to the bed before he could turn around.

  DAMON

  It wasn’t easy to act relaxed and calm for Naomi, when what I wanted was to be out kicking doors and smashing heads until I found Liberty and tore him apart. I itched to leave, but the same instinct demanded I stay and guard Naomi from any further harm. Since I didn’t actually have any idea what doors to kick or heads to smash — nor, at the moment, any replacement bodyguard to entrust with her — staying was the obvious choice. But it wasn’t a single decision; I seemed to be having the argument with myself all over again every other minute. I kept it to the back of my mind, forcing myself not to let my distress spread to Naomi.

  When her parents returned, Naomi and I were sharing a plate of hospital food, fighting over the carrot sticks and trying not to wake Jonathan with our laughter.

  “The baby seems to be doing well, considering,” Penny Winters said as they walked in, which effectively killed Naomi’s giggles. “Have you decided what to name him?”

  “I’m still thinking,” Naomi said.

  “Not thinking of silly embarrassing things like the movie stars are using, I hope. Naming their babies after fruits and vegetables and clothing stores.”

  Naomi winked at me. “I’ve always liked the name Sodapop. Or Ponyboy.”

  Penny glared at her daughter, then, to my surprise, huffed something like a chuckle. “Just don’t embarrass him, sweetheart, that’s all I mean. He has to deal with this name for the rest of his life.”

  “I know, Mom.”

  “What about a Bible name? You can’t go wrong with a Bible name.”

  “Habakkuk, perhaps,” Burt suggested. “Or Ichabod.”

  “We could call him Icky for short,” Naomi said brightly.

  “Or a family name,” Penny continued, narrowing her eyes at her husband. “Perhaps Burton, after your father.”

  “No,” Naomi and Burt said together.

  “Do you plan to ask the baby’s father for an opinion?”

  The room fell silent.

  “If he’d been abusive, that would be one thing,” Burt said softly, “but otherwise, I think you have a moral, perhaps a legal, responsibility to tell him he has a child.”

  “On the other hand, I see no reason to drag that trashy boy back into our lives,” Penny said, turning to organize the books and magazines on the table. “We’re perfectly capable of raising the child without his help.”

  “We?”

  “Well, of course we’re going to help you, honey. You didn’t think we would run off and leave you alone with a baby? I don’t imagine they’ll let you stay in the dormitory with him—”

  “They kicked me out of the dorm months ago, Mom. I couldn’t pay.”

  Penny paused, magazines in hand.

  “I’ve been crashing on a friend’s couch,” Naomi continued. “Oh, someone should call her. She has no idea where I am.”

  “And how does this friend feel about adding another roommate?”

  Naomi shifted. “Unfavorable.”

  “Well then. It will be best to have the baby transferred to the hospital in Burgundy so you can come on home with us as soon as you’re released.”

  I tried to bottle my alarm. Sure, at the moment it was terrifying to imagine Ilium without her, but even I wasn’t sure if that was my own mind talking. And after all, it wasn’t like commuting was a big problem for Shadows. One way or another, it didn’t matter to me where Naomi lived.

  Would moving her make her safer from Liberty? Put some distance between them — no, distance made too little difference to a Shadow. She’d still be my Lumi, here or there, and I suspected that was the only pertinent fact to Liberty. Better to keep her where I could guard her most easily.

  Naomi’s jaw was trembling. “What about college?”

  “There’s time for that later, sweetie. Right now you need to focus on the baby.”

  Naomi made no reply.

  She wasn’t that attached to the idea of college, I knew that from her memories. She wanted it, but it wasn’t some great dream of hers. But of course she resisted the idea of moving back home; who would want to go back into the box these people had built for her? Life on her own hadn’t been great, but it had been hers.

  “I have friends here,” Naomi said at last, with a pointed glance at me.

  What? No, don’t take me into account. Even I don’t know which way I’m going to jump.

  “Yes, well,” Penny said stiffly, “you have friends in Burgundy, too. And, more importantly, the stability of family.” The glance she flicked at me said volumes for my perceived stability.

  “You can keep in contact with your friends here, of course,” Burt said, also with a wary look in my direction. “It’s only two hours away.”

  How long would they dance around the elephant in the room? I might have been amused, except that Naomi so clearly was not.

  She took a deep breath. “I’m staying here, Mom.”

  Silence, cold and heavy.

  “Damon,” Burt said, “would you give us a moment to talk?”

  Refusing, I could tell by the set of Penny’s jaw, would cause a confrontation, which, however satisfying to myself, would upset Naomi.

  “I won’t be far,” I murmured, brushing my fingers across her cheek.

  I was prepared to shade back into the room if necessary, but as it happened I could hear them clearly enough from the doorway. I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and listened.

  “This time last year, it was Tyler you were draped on like a coat,” Penny snapped.

  “This time last year, Tyler hadn’t indulged in a little harmless infidelity,” Naomi said.

  “I told you then that you were moving too fast, and time has proven me right. Now you are, if anything, moving faster. How long have you known this boy?”

  Nine days, today. A ridiculously small eternity.

  “Mom, I know what you’re getting at. And since you were right about Tyler, you have every reason to believe you’re right about Damon. But you’re not. Only time can prove that. You’re just going to have to trust me.” Brave words. Too bad the uncertainty in her voice undermined it all, and whose fault was that?

  “Trust you? What reason have you given us to trust you to look after yourself, much less our grandchild?”

  Naomi’s voice hardened. “My chil
d and I have done all right for the past six months. The months wherein you provided no financial or emotional assistance whatsoever.”

  I fancied I could hear Penny flinch, but she recovered quickly. “Well, your situation has changed. You have a very fragile child to look after. You’re going to need help and you’re going to need money. What do you plan to do here in Ilium? You have nowhere to live. You have no childcare. Do you have a job?”

  “Part-time,” Naomi muttered.

  “That’s not going to cut it. Without a college degree you’ve no hope of a full-time position anywhere, and you can’t afford to finish college.”

  A white roar was starting to creep in around the edge of my senses. Not because Penny was incorrect in any particular, but because she was so ruthlessly, carelessly stuffing Naomi back into that box, that Helpless Idiot Child box, trimming off all the inconvenient parts of her daughter that didn’t fit.

  “Naomi, I know you’re young,” Burt said, more gently. “You want to have your own life, do your own thing. But you’re a mother now. You have to do what’s best for the baby.”

  “And frankly,” Penny said, “I think getting you away from that long-haired biker thug would be best for everybody. I know you don’t want to hear this — judging from the obscene way you’re carrying on with him — but I think it’s clear someone has to protect you from yourself when it comes to men.”

  My rage inched up a notch — and the chaos inside my head suddenly snapped into crystalline focus. For once my Shadow instincts and my personal inclinations were in total agreement, and I seemed to see them before me for a moment, lines of brilliant light, parallel but separate — both leading straight to Naomi. One because she was my Lumi, and one because I loved her. Parallel but separate.

  I loved Naomi. Not my Lumi, or not just my Lumi. Naomi.

  “Excuse me,” I said, stepping through the doorway. I kept my voice calm and even. With effort. “Mrs. Winters. Mr. Winters. Naomi is twenty-two years old and capable of making her own decisions. She will move back home, or not, as she wishes. Either way, you should be aware that where she goes, I follow. That is not negotiable.”