Fairy Thief (7 page)

He skidded to a halt and faced Audrey.

“
For future and significant reference, please — I really don’t want to be a granny before I’m forty.” She felt very satisfied with the way his cheeks blanched. That should set him straight — for a little while, anyway. She let him go with a wave.

He ran out back, jogged and leaped through the tall grass, sprinted through the forest, and finally found Saffron, alone, sitting cross-legged on an old sheet. She faced the ocean. Her eyes were closed. He stopped short. He was still many yards away from the clearing, and he stood still to watch her as his heart squeezed into his throat. She was so beautiful. He adored the curve of her waist under the fitted halter top; her lithe, pale arms; her long, graceful neck; and little pigtails. But what the heck was on her head? Were those
pantyhose?
He smiled — only Saffron…. She could wear some old bowling shoes, hospital scrubs, and those pantyhose on her head to complete the outfit — she would still be a goddess. He shifted the weight of his backpack and slowly walked towards her. A dry twig cracked beneath his boot.

Saffron turned, alarm washing over her features. When she realized it was Markis coming up behind her and not a serial killer, she became even more distressed and ripped the tights from her head. “Oh, my God! What are you doing here? I didn’t know you would be back already. Why didn’t you call? I don’t wear tights on my head that often — never! I never wear tights…well, not on my head….”

Markis sat down very close beside her and bumped playfully into her side, and held his knees to his chest — just as she sat now. He could smell her — baby powder. He leaned over and bumped her again. “I don’t mind your pantyhose.” His voice was low and thick.

“
They are not
pantyhose,
Markis.” Her voice was high and nervous. She snorted.
“They’re
tights —
not
pantyhose.
Who says ‘pantyhose’? T
hat’s just weird. I missed your graduation when I was in the hospital…”

He turned a little to look at her. Graduation, of all things? What was she going on about? Then he saw how she was biting her bottom lip and felt how she was quivering, sitting there beside him. She wouldn’t look at him. He sighed, turned his entire body, and moved to encase her, so that one of his long legs was behind her, and the other long leg was stretched out across her thighs. He put his palms on the ground, lifted his butt and moved right into her, hugging her close.

It was like hugging a statue.

Saffron felt the heat rise in her cheeks and fought to control the shivers that raced through her body. She could hardly believe this was happening. So much time seemed to have gone by since she first started wanting him, so much time when she had convinced herself that he would never want her as badly as she wanted him.

Now, the coast was clear. For once, finally, there was nothing, no one between them, no one moaning and lurking about. Well, not that she could tell. Not even her insecurities were there — they were gone with the ghosts.

He relaxed his hug and smiled. He’d give her more time, but not much. Today was the day — he could feel it, smell it, taste it. Today was the day. “I brought you some stuff…from New Mexico.” He reached behind him to lug his pack into her lap. He put one arm back around her and wrestled the pack open with the other hand. He pulled out a brightly colored Native American blanket and gave it to her as he nuzzled her ear.

She held it in her lap and said nothing as her eyes welled up. It was an exquisite throw, handmade, with naturally-dyed threads of earthy browns and creams, and shot through with electric fuchsia, teal, and sunshine yellow. Saffron smoothed the blanket, then hugged it to her chest. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“
My uncle’s family makes these. They sell them through consignment shops – even in Albuquerque and Taos.” This trip to New Mexico had changed him. He loved staying with his uncle’s family – eating traditional foods, hanging out on the farm, everyone one packing up and going to the hot springs at dawn…. He would never forget how he stood on the edge of the desert every night and watched as twilight slowly covered the land, and how the pain inside him would not ease as his grandfather sat on the tailgate of the pickup and played song after breathy, mournful song on his wooden flute. The ancient sound wrenched Markis’ heart. He knew what it was about — this ache that plagued him, and rooted itself deep inside. When the first cries of the coyote came, he wanted to howl, too. He wanted her, he wanted her, he needed her. He told himself that, when he returned east, he would go get her and never let her go.

Now, he watched Saffron put the soft wool on her cheek. He took a deep breath and held it as she rubbed the blanket round and round. She was making him nuts, absolutely nuts. Did she know that? “Saffron – please.…”

Saffron looked up, startled at the pleading in his voice. He unwound himself from her and crawled around to face her on hands and knees. He leaned forward and kissed her on her swollen lips. He pulled back a little to look in her eyes and saw trepidation, but also encouragement, so he knelt in front of her, grabbed each tiny pigtail, and pulled her close to kiss her again. This time he took his time about it and was more insistent. Saffron’s eyes fluttered when he opened her mouth with his lips, but soon enough, her eyes shut again. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest that it hurt. She broke the kiss and gasped for air.

He sat back on his bum, stretched his legs out and covered both of her legs with his. He used his heels to coax her closer to him while she flushed five different shades. He placed the backpack between them and fished around in it one more time. “And this…
I
made for you myself. My dad taught me. Can you believe that great big guy actually does this as a hobby in his spare time?”

Saffron held out her hands to receive the gift. It was a mirror. It was round, and on one side, it had a crescent moon etched in it. The moon looked like frost.

“
My father does designs — owls, people, fantasy stuff — but I just started with the crescent, so I wouldn’t screw it up.”

“
Markis, this is beautiful! You did a great job!” She flipped the mirror over and over, then held it up to stare at her reflection – and was startled. There she was, Saffron, but different. Her cheeks were rosy and her grey eyes were bright under the fringe of long, rusty-red bangs. The baby curls that escaped her pigtails played around the skin of her smooth, heart-shaped face. Gingerly, she touched her cheek.

“
Am I going to lose you to that mirror, Narcissus?”

Saffron let the mirror fall onto the blanket. She got out from under Markis and jumped to her feet. “Markis, you are so awesome! You are the best person in the entire world! I cannot believe you’re here, like, right now. I cannot believe you brought me these beautiful presents.”

Markis stood too, and grabbed her wrists as she spoke.

“
And I cannot believe you like me….”

He was looking at her again –
into
her. His stare was intense.

She blushed and looked away.

He pulled her to him and willed her eyes back on his. They stood there in silence, looking at one another, as the waves crashed below, and the gulls wheeled high above. A gentle breeze blew a wisp of Saffron’s hair across her lips. Markis brushed it back. Suddenly, Saffron jumped as if she’d been shocked. It was weird, what just happened to her — like when a plug fits into an outlet. As if a surge of electricity blasted through her…. It even hurt. She leaned into him and held on. “Markis?” Her words were muffled as she spoke against his t-shirt, which smelled of Markis and fabric softener.

He cleared his throat, but couldn’t get the huskiness out. “Yeah?”

“
I need to sit — something weird just happened. Maybe it’s the heat. I dunno. I just need to sit….”

Surprisingly, calm, cool Markis seemed equally flustered. “Yeah, okay.” He reached down, grabbed the new blanket, shook it out and spread it on top of the thin sheet. He held out his hands to help her sit down.

Saffron watched him all the while – his new frown, his ear tugging, the way his jaw was clamped — something had just happened to Markis as well. They sat quietly for a moment, not touching, side by side. They watched the seagulls dive below the cliff, past their line of sight.

Saffron didn’t look at him when she asked, “Did something really…really…
sharp
just happen to you — in your head?”

Markis exhaled heavily. “Yeah.” He smiled. “It was weird, but kind of cool. And don’t take this the wrong way, but being with you is awesome….and a little scary. And whatever is going on now is a good example of ‘a little scary’.” He reached over and tugged on Saffron’s pigtail. “But I love it — being with your scary self.” He shifted a little closer to her and turned around so he was facing her. “Saffron….”

She looked at him. Blinked.

“
I need you.” He cleared his throat. “Right now.” He dipped his chin, looked at her from just under his long lashes. “Know what I mean?”

Saffron reached for his neck as she lay back, pulling him with her. They didn’t start slowly, and they weren’t gentle — each grabbing at the other like a starving fiend. He yanked his t-shirt over his head with one hand, and pulled her beaded halter top up with the other, unhooked her strapless bra with his forefinger and thumb, and fumbled at the button on her jeans — as adept as a six-armed Hindu god. She pulled at his hair, already moaning in little bursts.

Snap.

Markis turned his head away from her so quickly, she was startled out of mid-kiss. “Markis?”

He was looking out at the ocean. On his face, he wore an expression of awe mingled with fear.

The shock sensation she had felt moments before returned, and with it came a dark pressure that blanketed her from head to toe.

Something was coming.

Something was getting nearer. Something that she couldn’t see.

But Markis could see it — his eyes were glassy and staring at whatever it was. His eyes focused as it came closer, skimming across the waves.

“
Markis?” Saffron’s voice trembled.

Markis shrank back. His eyes moved with the nothing until he was staring straight up, as if someone was standing there, towering over them.

Still, Saffron saw nothing. But she could
feel
it now. Feel
him.

All at once, Markis went limp. He crumpled down on top of Saffron, his hot chest against hers and her askew bra. The undone buttons on their jeans gave a little clink when he fell. His eyes stayed open and staring.

Saffron, chin on her chest, looked at the top of Markis’ unmoving head. Then she slammed her fists on the forest floor. And slammed them. And slam, slam, slammed them. Above her, the tops of the pines swayed. She screamed. “Ny — !” holding on to the last syllable until it sounded like blood gurgling in her throat. Then she screamed again, receiving no response but the keening of the gulls, the roar of the breaking waves at the bottom of the cliff, and the buzzing of cicadas.

Chapter 6

“
M
arkis?” No movement. “Markis?” She looked back over her shoulder at the space he had been staring. There was no one there. Yet, she felt someone there. She shook Markis harder, rocked his entire body back and forth. He wouldn’t wake up. She felt for his pulse with clammy, shaking fingers. She couldn’t find anything. But what did that mean? She had never felt for someone’s pulse before – maybe she was doing it wrong. She feebly shook him again. She tapped his shoulder and stared at his frozen face. She got up, fastened her bra, and was on her knees in less than two seconds. She put her ear to his mouth. No breath. Panic slammed into her like a throat-punch; it whitened her already pale skin to parchment. She jumped to her feet as the color rushed back to her face in a mottled-red rage. “Ny!”

With a click and a boom, sound burst back into the universe. Animals scurried and chattered — their small squeaks, hoots, and whistles chorused throughout the woods, blending with the waves and wind.

“
Ny!” Saffron crumpled to a sitting position beside Markis’ stone-still body. She slapped the blanket as angry tears spilled down her cheeks. It was no use. With the return of the noises Saffron had felt a change. Ny wasn’t here, and neither was Markis. She took two deep, shaking breaths, forced her eyes shut and concentrated.

Li, where are you? Come here.

But she couldn’t keep her eyes shut, couldn’t concentrate. A sob heaved up from her chest and poured out. She covered her eyes with cold, sweaty hands, and tried again — breathing deeply, in and out, in and out.