Sing Sweet Nightingale (17 page)

I’d rather not take chances. Squinting, I pick up the horse and hide it in the top drawer of my dresser. The intensity of the glow and feedback dims but doesn’t disappear. This is ridiculous. I’m going to have to get rid of that statue or whatever it is. Later. After Hudson leaves.

I hear a thud from the backyard and walk over to look out the window.

Hudson is there in shorts and a white T-shirt, pounding at the ground around the boxwood shrubs my mother has decided she hates. Under the shirt, I can see the muscles in his back shift and stretch each time he swings the pickax at the ground. It’s nice of him to offer to do this for my mother, but it’s hard to forget the way those black eyes bored into me.

Orane is so sure Hudson doesn’t know anything about Paradise, that he has no connection to it, but none of these weird noises and bursts of light started until he showed up. If he doesn’t have anything to do with Paradise, there has to be something else going on with him.

Orane may not see it, but it
has
to be there.

Thirteen

Hudson

Saturday, August 30 – 11:14 AM

I fall into a rhythm. Swing,
thud
, lift. Swing,
thud
, lift. The repetitive motion leaves my mind free to wander, but it doesn’t wander far. Only up to Mariella’s bedroom on the second floor.

The light show when she picked up the statue was insane. Blue cracks spread from her hand, up her arm, and across her entire body in less than a second. When she dropped it, I thought maybe she’d seen what was happening and would leave the statue alone. Or throw it at me—it kinda seemed like she wanted to throw it at me for a second.

But then she looked at me—actually looked at
me
for a second and didn’t fixate on my eyes—and changed her mind. That determined, pursed-lipped, narrow-eyed expression came over her face, and she gripped that statue like she was strangling it.

The light show started again, the blue cracks spreading thicker and faster than before. The fire coming off her nightingale brightened so much I could barely see Mariella under its glow. Blue fought from one side, orange from the other, and Mariella was lost underneath it all. When I shifted my filters, switching to one that shows me the world the way everyone else sees it, I could watch as Mariella stood there staring at the horse, shifting it this way and that to look at the detail of the carving. Just a girl admiring a horse.

I wanted to tell her I understood what she was going through and where she went at night, but seeing as she didn’t exactly react well when I mentioned her glass bird, I’m thinking she wouldn’t take the news kindly. Calease made me believe I was one of a very select few chosen to be brought into their world. If Mariella’s demon did the same thing, meeting someone else who’s been “chosen” might be more than she can handle. Yet curiosity drove her to ask about my arms, and stubbornness made her stick around when she obviously wanted to run, so there might be a way to make her figure it out on her own. Maybe. I hope.

“Wow. You work fast.”

My rhythm falters, and I miss the spot I was aiming for, slamming the end of the pickax into the grass instead of the roots of the boxwood shrubs. Turning, I see K.T. watching me from a few feet away.

“What are you doing here?”

She raises one eyebrow. “I was coming to invite Mari to Danny’s party and saw your car out front. What are
you
doing? Did they hire you as a gardener?”

“I didn’t know when I talked to you yesterday, but Mariella’s dad kind of knows my…uh, the guy I’m staying with. Horace. I offered to help out around here.”

“Talk about fate.” K.T. grins, and her blue eyes light up. “Maybe you won’t need my help.”

“What kind of help?” Especially after last night, I’m not sure I have a shot at winning this fight. Turning away any level of support might be suicide.

“That’s why I was going to invite Mari tonight. It was a test to see if you were serious about helping her.” K.T. shrugs. “
If
she’ll agree to come. She hasn’t come to a party since middle school. I was going to call you tonight if she said yes.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten the message.” I picture the burned-out circuits of my phone and try not to shudder. “My phone broke last night.”

“Oh. Guess it’s lucky I ran into you then.” She glances over her shoulder at the house and shrugs. “Here goes nothing.”

She turns to go, and I realize she’s going up to Mariella’s room. I can’t ask her to pass along all the stones in my car without offering some really strange explanation, but maybe I can convince her to give Mariella one more piece. Even if I sneak in again tonight, I won’t be able to put anything
inside
Mariella’s bedroom. K.T. can.

“Hey, hold up!” I drop the pickax to the ground and jog after K.T. I pull a roundish piece of amethyst about half the size of my palm out of my pocket and hold it out. “Would you give this to her?”

K.T. tilts her head to the side as she takes the stone and examines it. “Pretty. Is it amethyst?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you give it to her yourself?”

I shove my hands in my pockets and shrug. There’s no

answer I can give that wouldn’t either sound crazy or be an outright lie. K.T. smiles and slips the stone into her pocket. “All right, Romeo. I’ll go see if I can get Juliet to come to the ball tonight.”

K.T. winks and walks around to the front of the house. I watch her until she turns the corner, and then look up just as Mariella steps up to the window.

For a flash, the Mariella from my dreams superimposes on top of her. Her orange glow becomes fire eating away at her, and she’s standing there calmly trying to dig an orange ribbon off her face.

My hands clench when the light around her gets brighter and she pulls back from the window, retreating into her room.

K.T. thinks I’m chasing Mariella to get her to go out with me, but it doesn’t matter what she thinks as long as she’s willing to help. I pick up the pickax and slam it into the roots of the next boxwood.

Mariella is buried so deep in the clutches of the dream demons I’m gonna need all the help I can get to free her.

Fourteen

Mariella

Saturday, August 30 – 11:26 AM

Someone knocks at my door, and I pull away from the window. Glancing at the clock, I realize five minutes passed while I was staring out at the backyard.

“Honey, K.T. is here to see you,” my mother says as she opens the door.

K.T.? The name rings a bell. Didn’t Hudson mention her last night?

A girl with round cheeks and blue eyes comes in behind my mother, playing with a lock of her straight brown hair.

“Look who dropped by! It’s been a while since K.T.’s been here, hasn’t it, Mari?” She watches my face, waiting for an answer.

I stare at the girl. She feels familiar. Looking at her is like hearing a song I haven’t heard in years.

Then I get a flash. A memory? K.T. is younger, elementary-school-aged maybe, and she laughs as she grabs my hand, towing me across the playground toward the swings.

The light from my gifts pulse. Energy rolls across the room, hitting me like a blast of warm air. The feedback noise subsides, and my vision goes black—like a head rush when you stand up too fast. I blink, trying to refocus.

My mother is standing in the doorway with a girl I don’t recognize. When did they come in here? Did they knock?

“All right, well, let me know if you need anything, K.T.,” my mother says to the stranger.

“Thanks, Mrs. Teagan,” K.T. says as my mother leaves, pulling the door shut behind her.

Once we’re alone, K.T. turns to me.

“Hey, Mari.” She shifts, brushing her brown hair over one shoulder. “Do you remember me? We’ve been in the same classes since elementary school.”

K.T.’s gaze lingers on the figurines sitting on my dresser, but she doesn’t look long enough to make me think she notices something strange about them. Like the fact that they’re glowing.

K.T. looks back at me like she’s waiting for a response. I don’t really know what to do. I don’t remember her. She says she’s been in my classes since
elementary
school, though. Why don’t I remember her?

Sighing quietly, K.T. smiles and shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter.” She runs her hand over her hair again and then tosses it back over her shoulder. “That’s not what I came here to talk to you about, anyway.”

The thudding from the backyard stops, and a chainsaw roars to life.

Stepping toward the window, I look out as Hudson saws one of the boxwoods in half. I watch him for a moment as he picks up a huge section of sawed-off boxwood and tosses it twenty feet. Show-off.

“I wanted to see if you could come to a party tonight. Pretty much the entire senior class is going to be there. Hudson is coming, too,” K.T. says.

She’s standing near my nightstand now. Wasn’t she on the other side of the room a second ago? And did she say something about a party? I blink and try to focus, but my head is fuzzy.

“I didn’t know you’d met Hudson already.” Walking across the room, she stands at the other side of the window and looks out. “Do you like him?”

Like him? Hudson isn’t the kind of person I’d really describe as
likable
. Overgrown, strange, surprisingly thoughtful… Well, he’s not exactly
un
likable, either.

I shrug to answer K.T.’s question, and we watch Hudson demolish another boxwood bush. Sweat has made his thin white shirt almost see-through, and it’s sticking to his skin, accentuating the lines of his muscles and the ridges of some of the scars crisscrossing his torso. What
happened
to him? Whatever it was, I’m surprised he survived it.

“School starts on Tuesday,” K.T. says. “We’re having a party at Danny’s.”

I don’t know who Danny is, but she says the name like it should have meaning. Is he another person from
elementary
school I’ve somehow forgotten?

“So? You coming?” K.T. leans against the windowsill, her arms crossed over her chest.

Do I want to spend the evening with an incredibly strange stranger and a houseful of people I don’t really know? Or stay locked in my room with that irritating feedback and the too-bright glow of Orane’s gifts? Neither one sounds especially inviting. Is there a third option?

“Oh, come on.” K.T. laughs and shakes her head. “How is this a choice?” She holds out her hands like she’s weighing the two options on a scale. “Go to a party and hang out with the hot new guy, or stay home on a Saturday night? Hot new guy or home alone? Hmmm.”

As she hums, her right hand—the Hudson hand—rises and rises until she’s holding it straight up over her head. She glances up, then looks at me.

“Seems like no contest to me.” Her hands drop, and she looks out at Hudson. He’s already worked his way through a quarter of the boxwood bushes; their shattered carcasses are piled at the side of the yard.

“Plus, you already know him,” K.T. says. “So you won’t have to explain the whole no-talking thing.”

Yeah, but the “no-talking thing” won’t exactly make “hanging out” with him very easy. Especially since I doubt he understands enough sign language to hold a conversation. There’s always notes and written messages, but that’s a lot more effort than I usually put into communicating with strangers.

At the same time, I really wouldn’t mind getting away from the stupid feedback noise. Leaving for a few hours sounds like a good idea. I glance out the window and then back at my room.

Sighing, I nod. K.T. grins and bounces up to me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. The action is so unexpected I don’t know what to do except pat her on the back and wait for her to let go. I wish I could remember this girl. She’s sweet.

“Awesome! I’ll talk to your mom and let Hudson know, okay? He can probably drive you over tonight. And here.” She holds out a palm-sized purple stone. “Hudson wanted me to give this to you.”

What is it with Hudson and rocks?
I wonder as I reach for the stone. Amethyst maybe? Like the black statue, this boosts the volume on the grating whine. It’s soft, but I can make out a musical chime underneath it. The noise sucks, but the stone is pretty, shading from deep purple on one end to pale lavender on the other. It reminds me of Orane’s eyes.

“Great!” K.T.’s grinning like she won the lottery and bouncing on the tips of her toes. “So, um, see you tonight, okay?”

With a quick, jittery wave, K.T. turns and practically runs out of the room, leaving the door wide open. I can hear her feet pound down the stairs as she calls out, “Hey, Mrs. Teagan?”

I walk to the hall and listen as K.T. tells my mother about the party.

“Well, I don’t know. I should ask Mari,” my mother says.

“Oh, I did!” K.T. says. “She said yes. And Hudson is coming, too, so he could bring her if you don’t want to drive her over.”

“What?” My mother sounds a little breathless. “It’s not far, so I don’t mind driving, but—she really said she’d go?”

“Definitely. You don’t mind if she comes, right?”

“No, of course not. I guess Hudson can take her after dinner if he’s going, too.”

“Okay! I’ll go tell him.”

Before my mother can say another word, the back door opens and shuts. Turning the piece of amethyst over in my hand, I move toward the window again, watching K.T. run to Hudson. She’s bouncy and makes wide gestures as she talks. He watches her intently, his head tilting toward my window more than once. I don’t bother hiding. She seems to know him well. She reaches out and grabs his hand before nearly skipping out of my yard. And Hudson is smiling as he watches her go.

Good
, I tell myself. They must have something going on. I don’t know why K.T. would want me to spend time with Hudson if
she’s
interested in him, but at least I won’t have to worry about Hudson misreading things.

Staring out at Hudson, I rub my thumb over the smooth sides of the purple stone, trying to figure it out. There’s something about these rocks that reacts to Orane’s gifts, but I don’t understand why. It’s stone. Just stone. A rock should only be able to hurt something if you throw it. The stones Hudson’s given me defy the laws of physics or something. I want to know why.