Crux (17 page)

“I couldn’t be more pleased. Get yourselves changed and meet back here. Our next lesson is fire.” He rubs his hands together like he’s Snidely Whiplash, ecstatic over tying me to a set of train tracks.

I peek again at the hole at the bottom of his pool.
Fire?

This can’t be good.

18

Jeff worked us through lunch, but after some serious pleading on my part, he allowed Grey and me a couple hours downtime. As the smell of fresh baked bread, oregano, garlic and pepperoni wafts through the air, my stomach rumbles.

Giuseppe’s Bistro in Atlanta is the best Italian pie money can buy, according to Scud. The funky interior sports red damask wallpaper and crushed velvet seats with gold trim accents. A mirror runs the length of the wall behind the bar and reflects city lights onto the wide slab of polished oak.

Already seated, Kate waves us over to a corner booth. Candles cast an ambient glow over gold table cloths and illuminate the patrons’ faces in dramatic relief. Kate looks stunning, her blue eyes vivid against her aqua, North Face jacket. Scud has her nestled into his shoulder—like they’ve been a couple for years.

I’m not sure how Kate and Scud feel about me since my last stunt—the one where I disappeared without a word. My life has been riddled with uncertainty, suspicion and change. I’ve never known how the average Joe sees things, but if I were him, I’d be pretty leery of someone like me.

Grey takes my coat and folds it over the bench. I sit down across from Scud while Grey hugs on his sister.

“How are you?” Kate asks. “Is everything okay? You two lo—”

“You look like you’ve been in a cage fight,” Scud says. “That’s going to be a gorgeous bruise on your cheek, Birdie.”

Grey cringes. “Sorry.” His thigh presses against mine, and my heart gets an electric jolt. It’s ridiculous how he affects me. I wonder if he knows.

“Don’t be,” I say, “Jeff told you to kick my butt, and the Vikings won’t be so nice, so I need you to go all B.A. on me.”

“So, you’re still going through with this … plan?” Kate turns to Grey. Her brow creases, and she bites her lip. Scud pulls her closer.

I both hate and understand that she’s nervous.

“Yes.” Grey reaches for his sister’s hand. “Don’t worry. I’m going to be fine. You haven’t seen what Birdie and I can do with fire. If you had, you’d be afraid for the other guys.” He winks at her, and she manages a weak smile.

“So, what’s up with you two? I mean, you talked. Everything’s cool?” Scud asks. “Did you kiss her yet?”

My cheeks get hot. Grey smiles at his fork as he twirls it between his fingertips.

Adorable.

Kate punches Scud’s arm. “That’s none of our business!”

Their joking tells me I’m accepted, that they’re not mad at me, but it’s hard to joke back. Not until I apologize for running away and being such a flake. Trouble is, I doubt anything will change. I want to promise Grey will be okay and that I’m done adding drama to their lives, but those would be empty pledges. For all the power Alarr grants me, I can’t predict the future. I take a deep breath. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean … I wanted to—”

Kate reaches for my hand and gives it a pat. “It’s all right.”

“We did talk, and everything’s good,” Grey says. “We’re going to help Jeff, and when we come back …” He smoothes the tablecloth under his hands … “Some things will change.”

“Uh huh …” Scud grins.

Kate shakes her head at him as if warning him not to ask more questions. She turns to me with a huge smile. “Can I call you tonight, so we can get caught up?”

Tears prick the back of my eyes. She’s the closest thing I’ve had to a real friend in years. Maybe ever. Shondra was different—help in a crisis, a symbol of failure that I needed to fix. “I would so love that. I have a lot to tell you.” With Kate, I want to explain I’d never hurt her, or her family, and I still don’t know what lies Izzy might have told her about me.

Scud rolls his eyes. “Man, I wish they’d bring the pizza,” he says to Grey. “I can’t stay late tonight. I’ve got a Calculus test tomorrow, and I haven’t studied much.”

Kate squirms in her seat. Her lips curve upward.

“Okay, whatever, not at all.” He leans forward. “Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. Have you heard from Dylan? He’s been trying to get a hold of you. Push has been invited to Yuletide Jam this year.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

The waitress brings our pizza before he can answer. Steam rises off the pies, lifting the tantalizing scent of cheese and tomato sauce to my nose.

“Oh, my gosh,” I breathe in the herb-loaded aroma. “This smells amazing.”

I watch Kate slide a slice onto her plate. Gooey strings of cheese hang off her finger. Scud grabs her hand and eats the mozzarella from her fingertip while she giggles. They’re so cute I might be ill.

“So, what’s Yuletide Jam?” I ask again as Grey puts a piece of pizza on my plate.
Thanks,
I mouth.

He smiles.

“It’s an annual concert to raise money for Atlanta’s food banks,” Scud says. “One night. Ten bands.”

“When?” I want Grey to go, to enjoy himself doing what he loves for a change.

“December Seventeenth.”

Yikes, bad timing.
Only four days before our big showdown.

“I dunno.” Grey says. “I would, absolutely, but I’ve got a lot going on right now. We’ll see how it goes.”

“You should play,” I say. “It sounds important, and if we work hard and prove we’re ready, maybe Jeff won’t mind giving you up for a few hours.”

Scud grins. He scoops an ice cube from his soda and chucks it at Grey who ducks.

The wheels in my head start turning. If Jeff gives us permission, we’d be gone for hours. It would be the perfect cover to slip away, find the Snatcher, test our skills and, most importantly, rescue Shondra.

My fidgeting causes Grey to turn a questioning eye toward me.

I lean into him, bring my mouth close to his ear and whisper, “We need to powwow.”

• • •

Evening clouds dissipate, and stars shine through the solarium’s roof. Grey and I found the octagon-shaped glass room while exploring Jeff’s house. Close to midnight, we’re scheduled to be up and practicing again in five hours, but I’m not tired. Grey seems to be stalling his trip home, anyway. We lay together, snuggled against a soft, bear skin rug that covers sleek tile flooring. An animal rights activist, my first foster mom, Mrs. Moon, would be appalled I’m lying on an animal’s skin, but I convince myself the rug’s a fake to deal with any guilt.

Grey stretches out next to me. He pulls a green, chenille throw over us, though Alarr and his body heat already keep me warm. I feel safe and protected when I’m with him. I’m relaxed, almost dreamy, and very un-Bird like.

Images of the monk’s leather bound book float around in my head—a riddle I roll over and over in my mind and try to decipher. The words they spoke are clues, I’m sure of it. I’ve always been good at riddles, a residual trait from the ‘Fun Family Facts Game’ probably, but I admit this one’s got me stumped.

Weary from frustration, I mentally shake my head and shift my thoughts to Grey, my other obsession. “I’ve got a couple questions for you, if you’re game.”

“Anything, but then it’s my turn. You’ve got to give one to get one. Deal?”

“You like deals, don’t you?” I sigh. “Okay, done.” I draw out my hand from under the blanket and point to my chest. “Me first, though. We were in the gym the day I told you about Shondra and made a fool of myself bawling. You were about to tell me something, but Jeff walked in and interrupted us. I’ve always been curious. Then today—”

“One question at a time, cheater.”

I huff. “Fine. Do you remember that day?”

Underneath the comfy throw, his body slides closer until our legs touch. I think about Jeff’s warning, Grey’s promise to keep things platonic until after the war and scooch away an inch.

“I remember,” he says. “I didn’t know how to bring the subject up again without hurting you.”

“I get it. You know, you and Kate are more alike than you think sometimes.”

“How do you mean?”

“Guys don’t tend to love this word, and you probably won’t see the compliment, but you’re … nice.”

“Ugh. Thanks?”

I laugh.

He shifts until his head rests against mine. I allow the contact this time. “What I wanted to say was that you’re the opposite of what you think. There’s a difference between bravery and being a martyr. You call yourself a coward for surviving, but that’s brains, not weakness. Shondra told you to run that night because there was nothing you could do. Nothing. If there was even a chance to save her, you would have stayed. I know it, and I bet she did, too.”

My fingers rub my nose, not because it itches, but to distract myself from the tears his words threaten to bring.

He rolls to his side, traces the seam of my jeans along my leg with his finger, and I catch my lip in my teeth. “How many times have you tried to shake me since we met, Bird? You wanted to protect me …
and
my family. You were willing to face a lot on your own. I think you’re amazing and the bravest girl I’ve ever known.”

I press my lips together, not knowing what to say.

Seconds pass.

“My turn,” He plays with my hair, pulling the strands through his fingers, and thumbing the ends like a paint brush. “I’ve wondered about this since the day I met you.” He readjusts his head. “The scenarios I conjure in my head drive me crazy. Will you tell me your story?”

“Oh, uh, maybe I shouldn’t.” I don’t want to spoil the night telling him ugly details about my past. “If you know all my secrets, you might get bored and ditch me.”

“Not possible.” He gives a definitive headshake. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding … condescending. I can’t understand how someone like you wound up on the street. You’re just not what I picture when I think of …”

“Homeless? There is no type, Grey. It can happen to anyone.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I guess I’m struggling with the fact it happened to you. Will you tell me how you ended up on the street at least?”

“You don’t mess around, do you?”
Just tell him, Birdie.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“Fair’s fair,” I sigh and stare at the ceiling. “I’ve been in eight foster homes since my mom died. They weren’t all bad. Some were even good. Then, when I was sixteen, I went to live with Susan Weaver.” I rearrange the covers down and shift my arm so it won’t fall asleep. “Susan never married, had no kids, no real family to speak of. She was like me.” I pick at the fringe on the edge of the blanket. “I guess she wanted an older teen for company, someone she might foster and help. She taught high school art. I liked the subject, and we talked about our favorite painters all the time. Not just art, but politics, religion and other stuff, too. Sometimes ’til late at night. She told me once she never expected to love me so much.” I pause and take a deep breath.
I don’t want to start crying again.
“I loved her, too. Even though I was already seventeen, she started the proceedings to legally adopt me, but it never happened.”

Grey releases my hand and rubs his fingers up and down my arm. “Why?” I hear the tension in his voice, sense his concern in the anxious way he touches me. His compassion increases the water forming behind my eyes.

“She … died.” My throat swells. “Killed on her way home from work by a drunk driver at four thirty-two in the afternoon. She died at the scene. Never felt a thing—so they said. After her death, Children’s Services stuck me with a total perv. Foster number eight, scumbag, Greg Suggs, was more interested in beer and 1-900 numbers than the kids he fostered. When he started ‘watching me’, I ran. I was turning eighteen in a few days anyway and was tired of the system, so I phoned a social worker, warned her about Suggs and cut out. It’s a familiar story. I’m not special, but I
am
lucky.”

His muscles tense. “Oh, Bird.” The words come out hoarse. “Aw, baby. I’m so sorry.” His body pushes against me. He leans over, kisses my cheek, my forehead, my shoulder and strokes my hair.

My eyelids slide closed. I lie quiet and let him comfort me, knowing he doesn’t understand what to do to make it better. I’m not sure how to tell him he already has. “It’s okay, really.”

He buries his face in my neck, and we lie still.

The break gives me a minute to get a grip on my emotions. His rhythmic breathing steadies me. The wind whistling through the trees outside quiets, but the thumping of my heart—the organ Grey affects so profoundly—continues.

“Can I ask you something else?” he asks.

Why in the world did I start this stupid Q & A?
“Isn’t it my turn?”

“Yes, but I’m going back on what I said. Do you hate me?”

“You have no idea.”

He laughs. His white teeth flash in the darkness. I want him to kiss me, so I move away a couple more inches. He lets me go and says, “I want to know what you wanted to tell me in the restaurant.”

“Oh—that.”

“Yeah, that.”

Like I can deny him anything, I take a big breath. “The night you play Yuletide, I want to find Shondra and get her out of the Snatcher’s hold. Her rescue would be a good test run for my abilities with Alarr. Plus, I owe the Snatcher for jerks like Suggs who keep him in business. If I can beat even just him, I’ll have the confidence I need to face Gunnarr Blot.”

Grey wraps his arms around my waist. He squeezes until it almost hurts and his arms tremble.

“Are you cold?” I ask.

“No. I’m angry.”

“I’m sorry. What did I—”

“Oh, Bird. Do you think I’m angry with you?” He holds me so tight my ribs ache. When he pulls away, he stares into my eyes. “I’m sick for all you’ve been through. I want to erase it, to see you get the childhood you should have had. And I’d happily strangle Suggs. But what’s killing me is how you see yourself
because
of what you went through. You can’t save the whole world, Birdie. God decides who lives and dies. Quit trying to prove you deserve to be alive.”

I lean away from Grey and sit up. “You don’t understand.”

“Yes. I do.” Grey rises like I did and pulls me into his lap. He runs his nose along the side of my cheek. “Don’t even think about taking them on without me.” His breath against my ear sends my pulse into hyper drive.

“I won’t. You know, I was so afraid to let you in, now I’m afraid …” I don’t finish.