Darkest Day (20 page)

“But—”

“And I’ll even wear a dress.”

Sighing, I said, “You realize it’s in less than two weeks, right? Can you
get
a dress and … all that?”

She growled at me. “Promise first, Winn.”

I held up my hand like a Boy Scout. “I promise.”

Her entire expression changed from growing solemnity to wide, bright eyes. “Dude, do you know who my mom is? Not my real mom, but my mom-mom, right? Alina’s been planning this day for eighteen years. I’ll just have to let her have her moment. She’s had a dress made for—”

The clapping from the kitchen told me Alina’d heard the important part of our conversation, if not the whole thing. “Fifteen years!” Alina’s voice carried from the back of the house.

Mac and I both laughed.

“See? Told ya,” Mac said.

“There will be cameras, you know. And … other people”

“Yeah, yeah. But none of them will have the kick-ass dress Alina’s got up her fairy sleeve.”

I chuckled, realizing, even after two weeks, life had begun to return to normal. A new normal. One without my sister, but one I could experience for a little while longer.

• • •

“If I live to be a hundred, I will never, ever, ever understand women.”

I’d repeated my motto on the drive home from Mac’s, as I walked into my house, as I shut my door, and as I lay in bed and fell asleep.

As the sun rose to its noon-ish hour, filling my room with light, I still said those words from the confines of my bed. Mac never ceased to surprise me. Never.

She’d agreed to go to the prom. To wear a dress. She’d made me promise to forget her at the same time.

I wanted to go find a daisy and sit like Zoe used to do out on our deck, pulling each petal off and alternating my words from, ‘She loves me’ to ‘She loves me not’. I saw Mac’s point, but I wanted time beyond July fourth. Everybody else would remember Mac, and probably me, just not me-myself-and-I.

The garage door opened and closed down below, a sure sign my dad had returned from his trip. He’d delayed all his work because of Zoe’s death, but two days after the funeral, he asked me if he could go. I’d pushed him out the door. That had been the first of five trips in less than the space of two weeks.

Rory had told me to keep an eye out for my dad, to make sure he had work to do. That keeping busy in the normal activities of life would help speed the healing process. Each time he returned home, he seemed sad, but okay.

He also told me to expect the mood swings Mac had with the idea they could last for weeks or months.

I stayed in bed, listening to the sound of his footsteps as he moved around the first floor. Thuds to the left meant office. Shuffles to the right meant kitchen. I could track him throughout the spaces unless he went into the basement. I’d done the same with Zoe, listening as she rose, went downstairs and out the front door, often forgetting to close it and returning ten or fifteen seconds later and doing so.

With a groan, I rolled out of my covers, threw on some jeans and a T-shirt and sought out my dad. Normalcy meant saying ‘hello’, and normalcy meant being a family. Even a smaller one.

Cabinets opened and closed. The fridge did, too.

I slid my way across the hardwoods and into the kitchen. “
You
aren’t my dad.”

Josie held an apple in one hand, a glass of water in another. Jeans covered long legs but not bare feet, and a red T-shirt clung to her upper torso.

Not any red T-shirt.

My dad’s Coke T-shirt that he’d gotten for Christmas from Zoe two years before.

With an involuntary motion, my finger raised and pointed at her.

“I can explain.” She reached out with the apple and glass.

“What’s there to explain?” My dad walked in from the back room. His eyebrows winged up and lowered. “Oh.” A hand ran over his head. “I thought you were at Mac’s.”

He thought I was at Mac’s? Duh, Winn, he just said that.

That same finger went from Josie to my dad and back to Josie. Dad had said they had something but not a serious something.

“Winn …” she started.

“You told me that humans and non-humans could
not
be together.” That went to Josie. “I already know the last part is a big frickin’ lie? Why would you lie to me? It’s only Mac you have to lie to.”

The quick intake of air came from Josie. She motioned toward the table where I presumed she wanted to sit. I decided to comply, figuring if we did, maybe—
maybe
—I’d get some more answers. Not the systematic, metaphoric, analogous, circle of junk they tried to pawn off on me months before.

Chairs squealed as we pulled them out from under the table, me on one side, Josie and Dad on the other.

Dad turned to Josie and back to me. “I—”

“No lies, Dad. I’ve really had enough of them.”

He whipped back to me. “Remember who you’re talking to, Winford.” His tone turned deep and serious.

My chest heaved with building anger and resentment. “Remember what
I’ve
been through because of it all, too. And now, my non-human sister is dead. I’ve had a little too much placation and pleasantries.”

Dad’s shoulder slumped. He dropped his head to his hands on the table, Josie’s palm landing on his back and rubbing. “I’m so sorry, Winn,” he said. “I know, and none of this is your fault.”

“Then, answer my questions. Just tell me already, instead of playing games. I’m not going to remember any of it in six weeks, anyway, but I deserve to know now.”

With a pat of his hand, Josie took over. “He is right, Bernie. Acceptance of our kind is one of the many reasons my sister fell in love with you, and the laws were the reason she chose to give herself up.” She turned back to me. “After her death, I encouraged your father to become a Guardian because I thought it might give him some clarity on your mother’s life and allow him to … maybe, heal?” Josie entwined her hands with his on the table. “I am very sorry you have had to experience our kind this way, Winn. You will recall your grandfather was a bit of a catalyst in your family’s introduction to us, correct?”

“Yes,” I said.

“And he was a brilliant man, but sometimes, genius does not bode well for the human psyche.”

She could say that again ten times really fast, and I’d still understand it. “What does he have to do with you?”

Josie’s lips curved up. “Let us just say that some minds can accept what should not be accepted. Your link to our kind runs strong, all the way back to him. And he to us. To my sister. To me.”

Dad coughed into his fist. “There’s a law, a rule, a requirement in the non-human world, Winn.”

“The whole food, fun, blah blah blah gig Mac likes to spout off?” I asked. “I know all about it. And how it’s not really in effect anymore, and how the Council has to keep ‘mum’ in her presence or ‘grave’ things will happen.” I wiggled my hands in the air. “I know about Rory. I know he’s Mac’s dad.” I kept my eyes on Josie as I spouted off all my knowledge. “I know Mac has to give me up, and I know she’s going to. I’ve even promised not to ask to become one of you. So, been there, done that. Back to you … two. You once said to me that there was a Council member who didn’t have someone. Is that you?”

She nodded. “Yes, Winn. It was. It is.”

“Then, why? Why all the covert ops—Mac’s words, not mine. For how long? Since Mom died?” For a moment I wanted to gag. Had my dad moved on that fast?

“No, no,” Josie said. “Only about two years ago. It seems my family, too, is prone to acceptance of other kinds. My sister risked her life for love, as you know. But our world, Winn, is at a point where we must embrace change.” She clasped her hands around my dad’s. “Most of our kind can secure love across the divide now, but until Mackenzie makes her choice … we are in a period of uncertainty.
I
want to be able to let the important people know that I love your father.”

Dad turned to her as if shocked by her words.

Josie turned to my dad. “Some want the law reinstated. To prevent more of your kind in the lives of the Council and in the lives of our people.”

“But … I thought the deal Raven made was so that law
couldn’t
be reinstated.”

Josie splayed her hands on the table. “It was. But as you know, the Council can overrule anything.” With a small tap of her finger, she said, “Mackenzie, though, will be the final solution to all our … shall we say … issues.”

“How is she going to be that?”

“What she chooses, how she chooses, and what she decides to do with you, will bind the law permanently. One way or the other.”

“What does she have to do, then, to make it so we can still … be a part of each other’s lives?”

“In that, I cannot say … even to you. In that, her choice alone determines our future.”

19

Winn

Standing in front of my bathroom mirror, I worked to tie the stupid bowtie I’d accidentally untied after Josie fixed it for me. Every loop and pull added to my already-constant frustration. Two more loops and I had one side far larger than the other. I yanked it free and cursed under my breath, starting again.

Two weeks before, Josie had told me that Mac’s decision—her choice of what to be—would determine the fate of all human-non-human relationships. Again. I should have expected Mac to be some prophetic girl given how even her life as a Changeling hadn’t been normal.

I smiled at myself as I recalled the first time she spoke to me as a person and not some geeky nerd she had to deal with in school, and cringed as I managed the tie, though it went vertical and would not lay horizontal.

My dad’s footsteps sounded behind me. “Why didn’t you leave that tied?” he asked.

“It was an accident.” I turned as I answered.

Dad chuckled. “Let me help. I’ve had to don these a time, or two.” He moved to my neck, undid the mess I’d created and restarted. “I thought bowties on tuxes were out of style.”

“Do you really think I care about style? I told Mac I’d get a tux, and I did.”

Dad’s lips curved up as he worked at the knot. “I quite like it. They are very distinguished. Dapper, even.”

“Geez, Dad. You better stop now, or Mac’s gonna hate this getup.”

He yanked once and made my head wobble. “I don’t think so. And … I was once told, by a very beautiful woman, that after the formal photos, if you take off said bowtie and let it hang on both sides of your neck, it’s incredibly sexy.”

Oh. God. Stop conversation before it goes farther.
“Uh … okay.”

His hands landed on my shoulders and brushed once. “I think you’re good to go.”

Back facing the mirror, I had to agree; he’d tied it perfectly. “Thanks.” I moved out of his way and grabbed the flowers Caroline told me to get. The very ones Mac apparently told her to tell me to get her because they were the opposite of what Maddie apparently ordered for herself.

Of course, Ridge and I had shown up at the florist at the same time. I left him alone, and he did the same. We both walked out with flowers in a plastic box. End of story. Except that I’d heard through the hallway gossip loop, which came through Caroline exclusively, that Ridge had agreed to go to the prom with Maddie.

Dad stood in the doorway as I headed for it. “You’re all set for tonight, then?”

I cocked my head at him. “Yes. As you know.” I jiggled my keys, shook the flower box and pointed to my tie. “A plus B plus C. I think I’m golden.”

He nodded. “What about—”

Oh, no.
I held up my hand, keys hanging from my thumb. “I’m good—we’re good. Not going there.”

“Right.” He nodded again, hopefully understanding the conversation we’d not really had. “So, tomorrow, then, right? You’re staying at Macs?”

“Yeah. Caroline and Pete are going there, too. We should be back by one, or two, and I’ll probably be home sometime Sunday morning.”

“Be smart, Winn.”

My brow tweaked a little. “I always have been.”

“I know. There’s just a first for everything.”

I waved the flower box at him and passed, heading down the stairs and stopping at the bottom. When I turned back, he stood at the top. “We’re going for Zoe, you know.”

His lips thinned, clenching his jaw.

It hurt to think that my sister would never go to the prom she’d been dying to attend.

“She’ll appreciate that a lot, I think.”

Dad moved off to the side and disappeared, and I walked into the early evening sun, prepared to meet my girlfriend.

In a dress.

Mac

“No, no, no! Stop touching it!” Caroline yelled at me for the thousandth time as I reached for my hair.

“But it’s tickling me.”

She rolled her eyes in an overdramatic fashion. “Mac, come on. It’s gorgeous. What I’d give to have hair like you.”

I turned to the mirror again, ready to pick at it more, but forced my hand down and away to prevent Caroline’s annoying verbal slaps. On any other girl, I’d have thought it awesome, too. On me, I didn’t care that much. I’d left it all to Alina, who’d scooped up all my hair and twisted it in a great big knot-thing at the back of my head. She’d pulled down straight strands all around that, as I told Caroline, tickled my neck, my exposed chest and my back.

Caroline took the spot next to me, facing the mirror. “This is it, you know. The last big dance.”

“You’ve been to others?” I wouldn’t have known as I’d never attended a single dance, just heard the stories after the fact.

“Just one in the eighth grade. That doesn’t count. This is big. Of course, you’re going to tee-off everyone with that dress because of how gorgeous it is. Where’d your mom get it again?”

I’d worn red at Valentine’s Day and, for some reason, Alina thought the color suited me. She’d made, found or created, I didn’t really know, a red, satin, silk or something, dress that ducked down into a ridiculous V between my knorks, as Suze had once referred to my boobs. It went the same way down my back, stuck to my skin like tape all the way to my hips and flared a little until it reached the ground.

Alina made me practice for a week in the shoes. The silver heels put me up higher by at least two inches. I expected, when I stood next to Winn, we’d see everything at the same level.