The edge of the bed sank a little when she sat down. I felt her hand as she rubbed the back of my head. It was soothing and familiar, as if she'd done it a thousand times. That was the thing about Liv — it was like I'd known her forever. She always seemed to sense what I needed, as if she knew things I didn't even know about myself.
“Ethan, it's going to be okay. We'll figure out what it all means, I promise.” I knew she meant it.
I rolled over. The sun had set, and the room was dark. I hadn't bothered to turn on the lights. But I could make out her silhouette as she stared down at me.
“I thought you weren't supposed to get involved.”
“I'm not. It's the first thing Professor Ashcroft taught me.” She paused. “But I can't help it.”
“I know.”
We stared at each other in the darkness, her hand resting against my jaw, where it had fallen when I rolled over. But I was really seeing her, the possibility of her, for the first time. I felt something. There was no denying it, and Liv felt it, too. I could tell every time she looked at me.
Liv slid down and curled up against me, leaning her head on my shoulder.
My mom found a way to move on after Macon. She had fallen in love with my dad, which seemed to prove you could lose the love of your life and fall in love all over again.
Didn't it?
I heard a quiet whisper, not from inside my heart but a breath away from my ear. Liv leaned closer. “You'll figure this out, like everything else. Besides, you have something most Waywards don't have.”
“Yeah? What's that?”
“An excellent Keeper.”
I slid my hand to the back of Liv's neck. Honeysuckle and soap — that's what she smelled like.
“Is that why you came? Because I needed a Keeper?”
She didn't answer right away. I could sense her trying to work it out in her mind. How much she should say, what she should risk. I knew that's what she was doing, because I was doing the same thing.
“It's not the only reason, but it should be.”
“Because you aren't supposed to get involved?”
I could feel her heart beating against my chest. She fit under my shoulder perfectly.
“Because I don't want to get hurt.” She was scared, but not of Dark Casters or mutant Incubuses or golden eyes. She was afraid of something simpler but equally dangerous. Smaller but infinitely more powerful.
I pulled her closer. “Me neither.” Because I was afraid of it, too.
We didn't say anything else. I held her close, and I thought about all the ways a person could get hurt. The ways I could hurt her and hurt myself. Those two things were intertwined somehow. It's hard to explain, but when you were as closed off as I was the past few months, opening up felt about as wrong as stripping naked in church.
Hearts will go and Stars will follow, One is broken, One is hollow.
That had been our song, Lena's and mine. And I had been broken. Did that mean I had to stay hollow? Or was there something different out there for me? Maybe a whole new song?
Some Pink Floyd, for a change? Hollow laughter in marble halls.
I smiled in the darkness, listening to the rhythmic sound of her breathing until it softened into sleep. I was exhausted. Even though we were back in the Mortal world, it still felt as if I was part of the Caster world, and Gatlin was unbelievably far away. I couldn't make sense of how I had gotten to this place any more than I could measure the miles I had come or the distance I still had to go.
I drifted into oblivion not knowing what I would do when I got there.
6.19
Bonaventure
I was running, being chased. Scrambling over hedges and skidding across empty streets and backyards. The one constant was the adrenaline. There was no stopping.
Then I saw the Harley, driving straight at me, the lights getting closer and closer. They weren't yellow but green, flashing in my eyes so bright I had to cover my face with my hands….
I woke up. All I could see was green, flashing on and off.
I didn't know where I was, until I realized the green glow was coming from the Arclight, now lit up like the Fourth of July. It was on the mattress, where it must have rolled out of my pocket. Only the mattress looked different, and the light was flashing out of control.
I remembered slowly — the stars, the Tunnels, the attic, the guest room. Then I realized why the mattress looked different.
Liv was gone.
It didn't take long to figure out where Liv was. “Do you ever sleep?”
“Not as much as you do, apparently.” As usual, Liv didn't look up from her telescope, though this one was aluminum and much smaller than the one she kept on Marian's porch.
I sat down next to her on the back step. The yard was as calm as my aunt herself, a quiet patch of green spreading underneath a broad magnolia tree. “What are you doing up?”
“I got a wake-up call.” I tried to sound casual, instead of how I actually felt. Awkward. I motioned at the guest room window on the second floor. Even from down here, you could see pulsing green light shining through the glass panes.
“Strange. I suppose I got one as well. Take a look through the celestron.” She handed me the miniature scope. It looked like a flashlight except for the large lens fitted to one end.
Our hands touched as I took it. Not so much as a shock.