Ever My Merlin

chapter 12 – ACTON-CONCORD HIGH

What does one do when the world is about to end? I went back to high school. One weekend back at home convinced me.

I left the hospital on Friday and felt almost alive by Sunday. Vane was right about the crutch. My strength returned quickly, but then, I was the sword-bearer. Vane also said the mermaids were busy and he wasn’t kidding. While Matt and I were traipsing around Sri Lanka, interesting things were going on at Avalon Prep.

Vane took over the whole school and most of the Council. The wizards were split. Those loyal to Vane remained. Those who disagreed, left. Some went home, but most went to where they thought Merlin might be—Ragnar Manor. In the past month, the elegant, gothic manor had transformed from my home to a halfway house for wizards, candidates, and even gargoyles. Next, I kept expecting to run into a bald professor in a wheelchair in the corridors.

Rows of simple cots lined Grey’s gym. Grey informed me they were taken up during the day for training. What kind of training? Grey wouldn’t tell me. So I asked Colin. And I didn’t like the answer. While I was gone, they went back to the plan of finding replacements for me. Since they didn’t have Vane as a trainer anymore, Grey was chosen. I didn’t doubt Vane had a similar replacement hunt going on at Avalon Prep. It irritated me, but didn’t devastate me. Too much. If only I could lose the sword-bearer title so easily…

The manor was also turned into a high security stronghold. I thought it was bad when Vane had a few wizards patrolling the woods in dark SUVs. Now, about a hundred or so gargoyles, wizards, and hired military muscle guarded the perimeter of the manor’s five-acre plot.

The strangest thing, though, was finding out that I hadn’t been expelled from school. In fact, I was probably going to be in the student president hall of fame (no, there was no such thing) for pulling such an amazing prom together.

Grey drove me to school Monday morning. He pulled the Land Rover out of a three-car garage annexed onto the side of the manor sometime during this century. Water spilled over the turrets and rounded corners of Ragnar Manor. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have noticed the unusual amount of rain, but after the discussion at the UN, I was keenly aware of the turbulent weather.

A circular driveway held a broken fountain, one that would never get repaired. Nestled in a clearing, surrounded by towering pine trees, the manor had one visible path from the woods. The other way was well hidden. Grey turned onto a one-lane street past a red mailbox that marked the long road home. The narrow streets of Concord ebbed and flowed like gentle waves.

Behind us, Tommy, the school bus driver, lumbered along in the big, yellow bus. About half the kids in the school bus boarded at Ragnar Manor. It was one of a handful of vehicles still allowed in the manor’s new security force. Acton-Concord High had received a big infusion of students these past few months. I wished I could have seen them that first day. A bunch of wizard kids from England going to regular school. I snickered at the image of them standing in line at the cafeteria, instead of the sit-down dining hall at Avalon Prep.

“What’s so funny?”

I giggled. “There’s no potions class at AC High.”

Letting out a groan, Grey said, “It’s Marilynn’s fault. She transferred all their records so they could go. Wanted to keep them busy. You should see them in math. It’s pathetic. Their little wizard brains can barely handle two plus two.” He muttered, “At least the gargoyles are more or less normal.”

“Did you really just say that?”

Grey turned red. “Are you sure you really want to go to school?”

I stared out the window, without seeing. “I want my life back.”

He said matter-of-factly, “We’re never getting our lives back, Ry.”

“Then, I’m holding on to whatever I can have.”

Grey made a face. “You know the Council ordered Marilynn to take—”

“She doesn’t want to talk about it, Grey,” Gia said.

She sat in the backseat. I was in the front passenger seat. In the months I’d been gone, she’d cut her hair super short again. It framed her face in jagged red lines. Turning, I smiled at her. She didn’t return the full smile, but her lips uncurled just a little. The small thawing left me happier than I thought possible. I sank back into the Land Rover’s cushioned seat.

Marilynn. Ugh. I hadn’t planned on going to school this morning. After Matt’s little speech about needing all my attention, I intended to spend the day reviewing the Kronos Eye. Then, I had gone into the kitchen for breakfast.

***

Six a.m. My eyes snapped open under the command of my internal clock. It took me a minute to realize I was actually on my bed, in my room at my house. I stretched and winced. I pulled off the cami I slept in. Black and blue bruises covered my ribs. The darkest one lay right over my heart.... where Vane had given me CPR. Grey told me he’d done so at the UN Meeting before the paramedics arrived. He’d kept me alive.

I touched the breastplate. The knowledge left me in an odd place. By my count, this was about the tenth time he’d rescued me. Funny, because I was hoping to rescue him.

My hand slid over the thick bandage around my lower abdomen. I could keep down solid foods since Friday, my last day at the hospital. The doctors refused to release me until I had a bowel movement, the best indication that my insides were healing. I shuddered at the memory of that experience. As well as I was treated, I hoped I would never have to step inside a hospital again. With effort, I swung my legs off the bed and stood.

Too quickly, I fell down with a solid thump. The door flew open.

“Are you all right?” Gia stomped over to me.

“Fine.” A draft slid across my bare back. I lifted myself on my elbows. “Um, can you shut the door?”

“Sure,” she mumbled. Long bangs fell over her eyes. She avoided looking directly at me. She hadn’t forgiven me. Not that I blamed her. If I let myself think about Blake too much, I would become paralyzed.

I hoisted myself up on my elbows. “It’s early. Why are you up?”

Gia’s eyes widened at the extent of my injuries. “I couldn’t sleep. Grey snores.”

“Really?”

She blushed. “Yeah, well…”

“Don’t worry I won’t ask for details.” I picked up the steel crutch lying by the bed. It zigzagged at the top and hooked around my arm in an innovative way.

“My room is the one next to his!”

“Sure,” I said lightly. Grey had given her Alexa’s old room—something I doubt he would have done if he didn’t care a lot about her. Even if she wasn’t ready to admit it, I was happy she and Grey were supporting each other.

I hobbled to my closet. I pulled on a bra and shirt fairly easily. Garments below the waist were a different matter. I stared at them, trying to figure out how to stretch, without inducing too much pain. Gia walked over to me silently and took the undies and skirt. With minimal help from me, she slipped them on me.

“You look terrible,” she muttered.

“It’s my special gift.”

“What? Causing pain? There we agree,” she snapped, walking to the door. “I have to go get ready for school.”

Monday, right. I called, “Gia.”

She paused, her hand on the doorknob, but didn’t turn around. I wanted to say a million things. About how sorry I was about Blake. About how much all this sucked. I noticed how white the knuckles of her hand became from her death-grip on the doorknob and got out just one word. “Thanks.”

The death-grip eased off the knob. “I hope this is over soon.”

She slipped out of the room before I could answer.

“So do I,” I said to the closed door.

I moved slowly down the hallway, trying to keep the rubber sole of the crutch from slipping on the manor’s slick hardwood floors.

Colin came out of a room near the end of the hall. Through an open door, I glimpsed Rourke, lying still on a large, four-poster bed. Sylvia’s bed. Despite it being the middle of summer, a thick comforter covered most of his body. On a large easy chair beside him, wearing a T-shirt and yoga pants, Sylvia lay asleep. From what I understood, she rarely left his side.

Colin shut the door with a quiet click. “I didn’t expect to see you about, sword-bearer.”

“I’ve slept enough,” I told him.

Colin nodded. He hovered behind me as I made my way down the stairs. We parted in the hallway. He headed to the gym, while I stumbled a few feet to the kitchen. I swung open its silent door. As soon as I did, I wished I’d never gotten out of bed.

Raindrops streaked down the wall-to-wall windows in the drafty kitchen. The smell of fresh scrambled eggs and toast filled the air. In the middle, next to the island, two people ate breakfast and shared a laugh. Matt and a girl.

It was so normal.

We traveled all over the world and I couldn’t remember him looking so relaxed with me. The grey hue of the kitchen made Matt’s dark brown hair shiny. Next to him stood a delicately framed girl. She was half a head smaller than him, reaching just past his shoulder. From this angle, I saw her profile—high cheekbones, slender nose, and angled jaw.

She had annoyingly white teeth. She twirled a strand of dark-blond hair around her fingers. The last straw was when she lightly slapped Matt’s shoulder as he made another comment. She smiled, showing more white teeth, and I wanted to smack her.

I would be smacking myself. Through the kitchen’s open door, I watched myself.

A duplicate me.

I squinted at her. Well, not quite duplicate.

There were slight differences. She appeared completely the same, but also not. Unlike me, she was uninjured and whole. No black scars on one hand. No bandages. No crutch.

I stepped into the kitchen and said lightly, “I can see I’ve been missed around here.”

Matt jerked away from the duplicate as if he’d been caught with his hand up her skirt.

The duplicate turned to face me. Her lips curled into a small, tight smile.

“I’ve been keeping up appearances for you because you’re so important.” From behind the kitchen island, she took out a duplicate crutch. She glanced at Matt. “Don’t worry, I’ll continue to serve as needed.”

Serving who as needed? I bit back the mean-spirited retort. Instead, saying, “Well, you can stop stealing my identity. I’m back.”

It was surreal. Like talking into a mirror, except that this reflection talked back.

Matt sighed. “Marilynn, please take off the glamour.”

The duplicate shifted back into her true form—a college-age girl with a svelte figure, straight black hair and long legs. Marilynn. The wizard school’s administrator. The one who had been crushing on Matt ever since I first met her.

“Why the clone?” I demanded.

Matt answered, “She’s a decoy. To protect you.”

Right. “Exactly how was she protecting me when I wasn’t here?” I held up a hand. “You know what? I don’t care. There’s no need for this act anymore. You can go.”

Her eyes hardened. “I don’t have anywhere else to go. Your boyfriend saw to that.”

My eyes flickered over Matt. I muttered, “As if Vane is the reason you’re at Ragnar Manor.”

She stalked towards me and the door. “I should get ready for school.”

I put a crutch out to block her. “Ryan DuLac will be going to school today. The real one.”

Marilynn looked down her nose at me. “You’re supposed to have a two-hour meeting after school to finalize everything for Prom. Think you can handle it?”

She knew I couldn’t. I had no idea what she’d been doing for two months, but I wasn’t about to cave. “I’ll figure it out.”

She smirked and sent me a “just try” look.

Once the door closed behind her, Matt pounced. “I need you to work on the Kronos Eye with me this morning.”

I ground my teeth. Standing in front of him, leaning on a crutch, looking like death warmed over, and he couldn’t bother to ask how I was doing. God, I needed a break. I said simply, “No.”

“Why?”

My appetite gone, I turned to head back to my room. “Because I need to remember why I should help you. I need to remember what’s at stake.”

And I need to remember it away from you.

***

The Land Rover swerved into the student parking lot, nearly hitting a smaller sedan. Very quickly, I was thrust back into reality. I shouted, “Grey!”

“Sorry, I was thinking about something,” he muttered.

“So was I.” I shook off the morning’s aggravating encounter with Matt.

Lately, it was one aggravating encounter after another with him.

Grey pulled up to the curb. I slid out of the SUV. Gia emerged from the back. Weighted drops of rain pelted us. Grey handed me my crutch and drove off to park the car. Gia and I hurried to get under a roof. Well, Gia hurried. I went slower to avoid stretching the muscles too far and tearing the stiches. At least my bruised ribs were healing quickly.

During first period, I watched an indoor lacrosse practice from the bench. The new coach wasn’t too thrilled with my latest injury. The team wasn’t doing so well. The co-captain’s performance (my performance) plummeted after winter break—almost as if she played like another person—and they had a brand new coach. The previous coach (Vane) had been yanked out of the country due to visa problems.

Two girls, one grunge and one cheerleader, smiled at me with too much teeth as I hobbled into history later that morning. Neat rows of desk-chairs ran from the front to the back. I took a seat at the back of the class so I could lean the crutch against the wall. My hand against the bandages on my stomach, I maneuvered myself into a seat. The girls watched me with wide eyes and whispered to each other. I was pretty sure they never talked to each other before today, but everyone knew about the attack. The local news had been quick to pick up on it.

Ramanajan, the captain of the lacrosse team, sauntered into the class. She stopped short when she saw me. Giving me a small, forced smile, she quickly took a seat at the front, far away from me. Another girl on the team, Christine, walked in and sat down in the row beside me. She leaned bulky shoulders against the steel back of the chair.

“You have the worst luck. First, a sprained ankle in winter break and now, attacked…” She colored and ducked her head, her eyes filling with tears. “Sorry, that was dumb. Are you okay? I hope they catch the psycho.”

A picture of Vane flashed in my head. How many times had he been called psycho? At least once or twice by me. Although his methods got results, the label still seemed to fit.

Everyone at school knew of the attack. Concord might lie on the periphery of Boston, but it wasn’t the big city. Communities in the suburbs remained insular, and maniacal knifings weren’t supposed to happen here. I put a hand on Christine’s arm and squeezed. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay. The doctors say I’ll be off the crutch in less than a week.”

As I said the words, it actually felt true—which was a little depressing on its own. It meant I was getting used to life as the sword-bearer. Ironic, since the end loomed closer and closer.

Christine beamed. “Just in time for Prom. You’ve worked on it so hard. I checked out the Park Hotel during the break. We took some family into the city. My cousins were so jealous. It’s like having Prom at a palace—the huge ballroom, the upstairs balconies, and the view of the city. I can’t believe you pulled in enough money to book it.”

“We did it,” I reminded her. Christine was part of the Prom committee.

She nodded happily. “Oh, I can’t wait.”

I smiled. “Who’re you going with?”

She colored. Her eyes sought out a boy in tinted glasses and bleached hair lounging in his seat at the front of the class. “Taylor asked me last week.”

As if sensing her gaze, he turned to look back at us, giving her a shy smile. She grinned back. Their happiness hit me like a brick.

I forced myself to smile brightly. “That’s great. I’m thrilled for you.”

And I was. Still, I was floored. This was how I imagined my life. Shy exchanges. First love. Prom. Happy graduation ever after. Instead, I let this fairy tale slip away, and with time swiftly running out, I had little hope of recapturing it.

Students streamed into class and took their seats seconds before the bell. Grey slipped into a seat beside me. Our history teacher hurried to her desk. Back from maternity leave, she didn’t look as if she’d gotten more than a few hours of sleep. The bell rang. One last student walked in.

Matt Emrys.

His sudden appearance instigated a new wave of whispering across the room.

“They let him out?” someone hissed beside me.

“I heard he got a lot of therapy,” another girl replied.

Someone giggled. “Does he still think he’s Merlin?”

Ramanajan sighed. “I wonder if that means Coach Vane is back, too.”

I watched Matt move with controlled grace to the teacher’s desk.

“Matt? You’re back,” Ms. Bedevere said happily.

He handed Ms. Bedevere a slip of paper. His rolling accent washed over the room. “Just returned.”

“That’s wonderful,” Ms. Bedevere said, all smiles. “You look so… fit.”

Wearing his usual jeans and T-shirt, he modeled both as biker and hippie professor. Instead of his usual shaggy hair, though, he styled the brown locks so they emphasized the lean slant of his high cheekbones. His jaw looked freshly shaven. He hadn’t looked this neat at the UN meeting.

A boy in front of Grey commented, “Those padded, white rooms make nice getaways.”

Grey kicked his chair. “You should know, Joey.”

Matt’s gaze zeroed in on me. He walked to an empty seat on the other side of Christine. At the front of the class, Ms. Bedevere went to the chalkboard and started writing. My pocket vibrated as I got a text on my cell phone. It was a new one from Sylvia. As far as I knew, only she and Grey had the number. I snuck a look at the screen. The text listed a blocked number.

You should be resting.

I glanced at Matt. Sure enough, he’d snuck out his phone and was typing away.

A second text buzzed. You look hot.

I wondered briefly if he’d been body snatched. I stared at the words, unable to make sense of the sentence. Hot? I didn’t even know the word existed in Matt’s vocabulary.

I wrote back. What are you doing here?

An answer zinged back. Couldn’t leave you alone on your birthday.

My head jerked up. A calendar next to the chalkboard confirmed what I had forgotten. Eighteen. Happy birthday to me. I snuck another glance at Matt’s profile while he played with his phone. He’d remembered.

As if sensing my gaze, his head turned and his eyes caught mine. A certain glint in them left my throat parched. With unsteady fingers, I thrust my phone deep into my pocket, although I felt its heavy weight at my side.

“World War II. Last week we started the final section we will be covering before the end of the year. Today, I’d like to start off with a quote from your readings.” An open book in her hand, she pointed to the words she’d written on the chalkboard. “‘Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.’ November 1942. Who knows who said this? Matt?”

Matt didn’t reply, but returned to fiddling with his phone.

Ms. Bedevere waved to get his attention. “Matt, do you know who said this quote?”

Matt focused on her with visible effort. “Ah, what?”

Ms. Bedevere’s smile dimmed. “It’s all right, Matt. You probably need a few days to catch up.”

Matt’s gaze fell on the chalkboard. “Winston Churchill.”

Ms. Bedevere beamed at the reemergence of her star student. Then, she started lecturing. The rest of the class passed quickly, primarily because I kept glancing at Matt. He spent most of the time fiddling with his phone. Twice, Ms. Bedevere noticed his covert actions and reprimanded him. Twice, he blasted her with such charm she became flustered and began averting her eyes from his general direction.

As soon as the bell rang, students rushed out of class. Matt didn’t wait for me. I hustled to catch up with him in the hallway. Luckily, his attention still glued to the phone, he wasn’t walking too fast. I came up behind him, and used my crutch to block his path.

He stumbled, grabbing me to regain his balance. The action tugged at my stomach and I let out a pained gasp. He released me quickly. I wobbled and dropped a crutch. He picked it up, but didn’t return it. Instead, an arm slipped around my shoulders to steady me. The touch, surprisingly conscientious, made my pulse skitter.

He pocketed his phone. “I’m beginning to think you like pain.”

“No, but I don’t mind things a little rough.” My bare knee brushed his leg.

Desire shot through his eyes. He muttered, “Ryan.”

Ryan. I looked into pretty amber eyes in confusion. I was sure the boy standing in front of me was not Matt, but Vane never called me Ryan. I leaned closer, debating whether to glare at him or rub my cheek against the soft jersey T-shirt clinging to his chest. A spark of raw desire lit up his eyes, causing my knees to knock together.

Okay, forget intimidation. Seduction was way better. I said throatily, “I thought you’d be holed up all day at the manor doing research.”

“I remembered something during our last sojourn to the library. I came to see it.”

“Why did you go to history, then?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to suppress a smile. “Did you miss high school?”

“I simply wanted to remember what’s its like to be in a place where you have all your possibilities in front of you.”

“Uh-huh.” I didn’t believe him. He had fun here. I could tell from his voice.

He made an irritated sound and grabbed my crutch. His arm around my shoulder propelled me forward. We went up a short flight of stairs and down another hallway that led to the front of the building. Decorations and glittery signs advertised various clubs and activities. One banner shouted out at me. It was the same one I’d seen in my head when I came out of Elysium. The one I focused on when the Minotaur was attacking—correction: saving—me. Prom Tickets on sale now! With a black marker, someone had scribbled underneath, “Still available! Best Prom at ACH ever!!”

I must have stared at the banner for too long because Doppelganger-Matt waved a hand in front of my face. He asked flippantly, “Dreaming of ball gowns and flirty dances?”

I kept a straight face. “More like mini-dresses and dirty dances.”

Doppelganger-Matt’s cheeks puffed. He halted in the middle of the hallway and turned to look down at me. “Is that why you’re wearing that minuscule skirt?”

Miniscule? I smoothed down my skirt even though the hem fell just above my knee—close enough for regulation length. Maybe it wasn’t such a bright idea to wear a skirt while hopping around on a crutch, but after Sri Lanka—I had no desire to pull on cargos for a long time. Besides, May was one of only three months in Boston when I could wear something that wasn’t seven layers thick.

Doppelganger-Matt smirked at the self-conscious reaction. I stopped fighting with the skirt and decided to play. Putting my hand on his waist as if to steady myself, I fluttered my lashes. “Maybe I’m wearing it to get a date. Know anyone who’d want to… dance with me?”

His eyes narrowed. The bell rang. Students rushed into class around us.

I pushed away from him and reached for my crutch. “Time to go.”

“I don’t think so.” He caught my wrist, his brows set in a deep V across his forehead. Before I could do more than squeak, he picked me up, as the crutch swung wildly in the air.

“W-what are you doing?” I sputtered.

“Calling your bluff.” Doppelganger-Matt carried me a few steps to a closed door on the wall next to us. A placard on the door designated it as the student store. He leaned my back against the door as he twisted the knob. It opened. I felt pretty sure he used magic, but I didn’t see the telltale green spark to absolutely confirm him as Vane.

As soon as we crossed the threshold, he kicked the door shut, flipped the light switch, and set me down. Under the dim yellow of a single overhead bulb, he stared at me. The student store was actually a converted walk-in closet. I leaned heavily on my crutch and listened to the loud sound of my labored breathing in the enclosed space.

Doppelganger-Matt’s eyes glittered with some unnamed emotion. From the rapid way his chest rose and fell, I couldn’t tell if he was simply pissed or far beyond pissed. Not that he had a real reason to be.

He said silkily, “So you want to dirty dance with Merlin?”

Merlin. I almost laughed. His eyes may have been amber, but the green flame of jealousy couldn’t be hidden. Metaphorically and literally. At the thought, more nervous laughter bubbled up inside me. I tried to squelch it, but my lips twitched.

“Are you laughing at me?” Doppelganger-Matt scowled.

I giggled. “A little—”

I never finished the thought. He yanked me to him. I dropped the crutch. His mouth swooped down on mine. The kiss, layered with hunger, half-punished and half-begged. I tasted the rage of a turbulent ocean. Unlike Matt’s scent of fresh soap, Doppelganger-Matt wore cologne. Dark wood mingled with coarse tobacco—it was uniquely Vane. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on. Even though I responded, the kiss wasn’t gentle. He moved away from the door. Without breaking contact, he adjusted my legs to wrap around his waist and carried me a few feet to the cashier’s stand.

My pulse beating to the pounding rhythm of a DJ’s thumping dance mix, I tongued him with every ounce of breath I had. When he lifted his head, I moaned in protest.

His lips grazed the pulse throbbing at my neck. Teeth bit the spot lightly. “Do you know how badly I want you?”

He leaned away to reach under the cash register, yanking out a condom. My eyes went from the shiny wrapper to the shelf behind his head. Beside an array of candy bars, white notebook paper, and baseball hats, a baby’s bib hung from a hook. The words “AC High” had been embroidered on cute white terry cloth.

The fog of hormones clouding my brain evaporated, and it all became too real.

Doppelganger-Matt’s styled hair had become shaggy under the ministrations of my desperate fingers. Brown waves fell over his face. Still it was Matt’s face. Amber eyes, Matt’s amber eyes, locked on mine. But I didn’t want Matt.

Doppelganger-Matt pushed the hair back from my face. He traced the line of my jaw. Our lips met again in a gentle press. Not content, his mouth devoured mine. With a silent gasp, I closed my eyes and pictured Vane. His tongue explored my mouth sending little shivers of electricity through me. Heat pooled between my legs. My chest burrowed into his, strong arms tightened around me, arching me against him.

From the way my body throbbed for a release, I was tempted to allow the charade to continue. As messed up as it was, it would be so easy to let him pretend. Dealing with Monster-Vane was complicated. This way, we could ignore the problems between us. We could simply be a boy and girl.

My fingernails dug deep into his shoulders. The temptation was strong.

If I let him do this, it would only last for this fleeting moment in time. Not a bad thing. The end of the world was coming. I didn’t really want to die unloved. Yet, at the same time, I knew if we did this while he pretended to be Matt, we’d never recover. This twisted game wasn’t fair to us. It wasn’t fair to Matt.

And deep down, I still believed there would be more.

My fingernails detached from his shoulder. My legs let go of his waist.

I tore my mouth away.

Doppelganger-Matt blinked at the release.

Defensive shields rose and his lips curled into a sneer. “You were bluffing.”

Even if I had been, I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel. “Tick-tock” the hands of a clock in the corner of the room chimed. I gambled, making my last play. I laid my palm on his chest, above the solid thump of his heart. “I’m not bluffing. I’m just not letting you get off so cheap. I should at least get some roses or dinner or something before my deflowering.”

I let the words sink in. Startled, he drew back. He raked a hand through brown hair and grinned sheepishly. “I forgot. How about that dance instead?”

I arched a brow. “Is this your way of asking me to Prom?”

He bristled. “It’s one week from now. I doubt you’ll get a better offer—”

“Will you please shut up?” I sighed. “My answer is yes.”

He stilled. “Good.”

“Good, you’re picking me up. I want a limo.” Actually, I could have cared less about a limo, but I did enjoy ordering him around.

“Fine,” he said in a husky tone. “I’ll even bring a corsage, if you bring the skirt.”

Translation. You bring the sex.

For show, he took out a few more condoms from under the register.

I flushed at the sight of more plastic wrappers. “How did you know those were there?”

He stuck them in his pocket. “Kids talk.”

“They don’t talk to me,” I muttered.

Husky laughter soothed me. “Your reputation is too clean.”

“And yours isn’t?”

“I never claimed otherwise.” He glanced up. A small mirror hanging down from the ceiling (to keep an eye on potential shoplifters) reflected his face—Matt’s face. His expression shuttered at the glimpse of his appearance.

Mentally, I sighed. Oh, the games we play.

He pulled fully away from me and went to pick up my crutch, which had fallen near the door. I jumped down and tottered over to him. He thrust the steel crutch at me. “If you’re done distracting me, shall we proceed to the library?”

Without waiting for a reply, he stalked to the door. I saw him fumble with the doorknob, muttering curses under his breath. I watched him, chewing my lip, but not saying anything. Finally, the knob turned and he banged the door open. He hurried off down the hall.

I caught up a few minutes later. Down the hallway, around one turn, I found myself in front of the closed double doors of the library. As I struggled with one heavy door, it flew open. Doppelganger-Matt propped it open and pulled me inside with a look of exasperation. The musty scent of books hit me immediately. No one sat behind the high bar that enclosed the checkout area. Glancing around, I saw no one in the library. A low barrier of bookshelves separated a study area from bigger shelves extending from floor to ceiling that filled up the rest of the room. Not a soul roamed the stacks.

I wondered if Doppelganger-Matt had broken in while the librarian was on a break. He led me into the study area of neatly lined tables. I paused, picturing the lion on top of them. My throat dry, I swallowed. The memory of what happened came rushing back, and even though it was only in my head and not physically here, the details of the library were too accurate for my mind not to replay the scene.

Doppelganger-Matt stopped just before a waist-high bookshelf directly at the library’s center. He let out a breath. “It’s not here.”

“Maybe it’s below?”

He knelt to run a finger through an ordered stack of coffee table books.

“What are you all fired up about?” I moved closer to his side and propped my crutch against the shelf. When I leaned against his shoulder, he stiffened.

I yawned. “I’m getting a little tired.”

Grabbing me by the waist, he hoisted me up and set me on the shelf. “You shouldn’t have come to school at all.”

I said in a husky voice, “Think of all the fun I would have missed.”

Without commenting, he knelt back down and eyed the books. A soft blush covered his cheeks. I bit my lip to stop a smile. It was cute.

“This is it.” He stopped on one book and pulled it out. I leaned over, but I couldn’t see its title. His body effectively covered it. He pulled up his shirt, showing Matt’s lean abs, and tucked the book into his jeans. Lucky book. I caught a glimpse of the back cover—an illustration I didn’t recognize, soft hues of red, cream, and blue—before he yanked his shirt down.

“What’s in the book?” I asked.

Doppelganger-Matt stood up. Keeping the book out of my sight, he leaned closer, as if he were going in for another kiss. My pulse spiked. He slipped my phone out of my pocket.

I tried to grab it back from him, but he moved away. “What are you doing?”

“Texting Ragnar.” His fingers flew deftly over the touch-screen phone.

Another reason Doppelganger-Matt could not be the real Matt. The real Matt picked at the screen with excruciating slowness. He handed the phone back to me. I glanced at the screen. The text read—In the library. Sick. Take me home.

“High-handed, aren’t you?” I remarked.

“Yes.” He pulled me off the bookshelf. A hand snaked around my neck and drew me in for a quick yet heartfelt kiss. My other hand curled in soft, brown hair. His hand slid up my bare leg. I caught it before he reached too far up. Squeezing my thigh, he pulled away. “Happy birthday, Ryan.”

My mouth was freed, yet I remained breathless.

Before I could manage more than a blink, he loped halfway across the library.

“Wear something pretty Saturday,” I called out.

“Get a longer skirt,” he replied, without turning around.

He left through the open door. I looked down and made a face. He’d left my skirt hiked up. I smoothed it. I heard a shuffling at the door. My head jerked up. Mild unease filled me at the thought that someone might have actually seen us.

Matt, the real Matt with pensive amber eyes and sober expression, came into the library. Marilynn trailed him. My mild unease turned to full-blown embarrassment.

“It was Vane,” I said.

“I figured.” Matt walked toward the bookshelf. His eyes flickered over the low tables. The memory of the lion washed over us. Matt held my gaze. “Why me?”

Why did I kiss Vane while he looked like Matt? Or why did Vane take his form? Either answer was one Matt wouldn’t like. I chose another safer one. “He snuck in to get something from the library.”

Matt wasn’t fooled. His gaze fell on my mouth, puffy lips that still tingled.

“It’s not him anymore, Ryan.”

“You’re not giving him much of a chance, Merlin.”

“I’ve given him plenty. So did Blake. He can’t be trusted.” He glanced at the bookshelf. “If he could be, then why sneak in here? Why the disguise? Which book did he take?”

I played with my bottom lip. “He didn’t want me to see—”

“Typical,” Marilynn muttered from behind Matt.

I tamped down an urge to stick my tongue out at her like a five-year-old. “I saw a picture on the back cover. I can search for it in the library database.”

“It gives us something, at least,” Matt said. His unhappy expression didn’t waver. He gestured at Marilynn. “Take over for her this afternoon as we planned. Ryan’s had enough time to be normal.”

I shook off the weariness sapping my strength. Stubbornness straightened my spine. “Stop thinking you can run my life, Matt. I’ll be home after school.” I scowled at Marilynn. “I don’t need the duplicate to fill in.”

“We should follow up on this right away,” Matt shot back. “Stop being so childish.”

It was the worst possible thing to say. My hackles rose even more. “We can work on it this afternoon.” I told Marilynn sweetly, “You can cover the afterschool Prom meeting.”

Matt raked a hand through his hair in frustration. “Everyone is depending on us—”

I didn’t waver. “They can wait a few hours.”

Matt’s lips tightened. Turning on his heel, he walked out.

Marilynn shook her head. “You’re an idiot, DuLac. He says it’s for everyone, but he only looks at you. He’s doing this for you.”

I stared after Matt. If that were true, it would have been him taking me to Prom. It would have been him who remembered my birthday. I said softly, “No, he’s not doing this for me. He just hasn’t admitted as much to himself.”