Shade (16 page)

“Is that your final answer?”

I finally dared to look at him. “It’s my final answer.”

In the faint red flashlight glow, his green eyes had turned almost black. “I think you’re right.”

“Good.” I laughed a little, to relieve the tension.

“Yeah. Good.” Zachary shifted, pulling one knee up and resting his elbow on it. I wondered if he knew this was one of his hottest poses.

“Your turn to draw.” I tossed the pencil at his chest.

“At least my hair won’t block your view.”

“No, but your big head might.” I crawled behind him so he could take my place in front of the chart.

“I’ll have you know, my head is a perfectly average size.” He spread his fingers. “My hands, though, are enormous, and you know what they say—”

“Shut up and draw, lad,” I said in my best attempt at a Scottish accent.

“Ouch.” Zachary covered his ears. “Don’t try this at home, children.”

“I thought it sounded good.”

“In your head, maybe.” He put down the pencil. “A few pointers on talking like a Scotsman. First, you don’t trill your
r
’s, you gently roll them. Try it. Say ‘no trill, just roll.’”

“No trill, just roll.” I bit my lip. I had trilled. Possibly even spit on him.

“No, no, it’s not Italian or Spanish. Don’t bludgeon that poor
r
with your tongue.”

“I can’t help it.”
Must change topic from what tongues should do.
“I took Spanish. And my family’s Italian.”

“They tell you to relax your mouth and let it go, right?” When I nodded, he replied, “That’s the thing, then. Keep in mind, my people are extremely uptight. So to talk like a Scotsman, you’ve got to keep that mouth under control.”

“That’s no fun.”

Zachary closed his lips. He blinked and looked to the right, then blinked again and looked back at me, as if preparing to share a secret. His voice came low and growly. “You’d be surprised how much fun it can be.”

My heart slammed in my chest so hard, I thought it would pop open my ribs. “Surprise me.”

Where had
that
come from?

Zachary hesitated, like he was waiting for me to take it back, then shifted so he was sitting in front of me. He took my face in his hands—which actually were pretty big—and placed his thumbs under my cheekbones, his little fingers under the curve of my jaw. “Now say it.”

“Say what?”

“Anything,” Zachary whispered.

My brain scrambled for a sentence that was suitably seductive, or at least funny. But at that moment of supreme panic, the only thing whirling around my mind was the Gettysburg Address.

“Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty.”

Zachary’s grip kept my mouth from opening too far. The
r
’s rolled out softly, tapped by my tongue with a gentle restraint.

“And dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.” I switched back to my regular accent. “I forget the rest.”

“That was perfect.” He stared into my eyes, breaking our gaze only to glance at my lips. His warm hands still held my face, and the energy from his touch sent shocks zinging down my spine and out into my limbs.

An extra-strong vibration came from my left side, near my heart. I closed my eyes and lifted my chin.

“Aura.”

“Hmm?”

“Your, uh, your chest is humming.” He let go of me.

“Huh?” I blinked at the sudden loss of his touch. “Oh, my phone!” I unzipped my jacket and fumbled in the inside pocket.

It was my dear aunt and her impeccable timing.

“What’s wrong?” I answered.

“I’m just checking in,” Gina said. “Making sure you haven’t been eaten by wolves or hit by a stray bullet from a hunter.”

“I’m on a farm, not in the Yukon.”

“You know me. I have to be Turbo Godmother sometimes.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“You sure? You sound out of breath.”

“Yeah! I mean, we just moved our stuff because of the—uh, the smell. Of cows.”

“Ew. Are you almost finished?”

Zachary was already bent over our map, adding stars with a new urgency.

“Yes,” I told her through gritted teeth. “I’ll be home soon.”

When she said good-bye, I clicked off and put the phone back in my jacket.

“I also found Mars,” Zachary said. “In Gemini.” He pointed to the southeast without looking at me. “See the reddish orange one? It’s barely risen.”

“I see it.” I flipped the page in our book to a new quadrant of the sky, my hands still shaking. I hadn’t felt like this since the night Logan and I had first kissed, after his first concert a year ago.

A year ago tomorrow, I realized. I’d almost kissed another guy a few hours from our anniversary. Shame flushed my cheeks and forehead.

At least, I thought it was shame.

The moment I pulled away from Zachary’s apartment building, I heard a voice beside me.

“Late for a school night, isn’t it?”

My foot jammed the brake pedal in reflex. “Damn it, Logan! Not while I’m driving.”

“Sorry.” He laid his arm along the passenger-side window. “I got worried.”

“You too? Gina thinks I’ll be eaten by boll weevils or something.” I got the car moving again. “I’m probably a lot safer there than I am on my own street.”

“I bet it’s nice out in the country.”

“It’s gorgeous. I can’t get over how quiet it is.”

He snorted. “Mr. Ed doesn’t say much while you’re making your maps?”

I squinted at him, not getting the joke. “Mr. Ed?”

“I said, ‘Mr. Red.’ Your friend or whatever he is.”

“Zachary? Why do you call him that?”

“I can’t even look at him. Dude wears red shirts like they’re going out of style. Which unfortunately they never will,” he grumbled.

“What are you talking about? Zach never wears red. He doesn’t have to, because he’s a pre-Shifter. I told you that.”

“So now he’s ‘Zach’ to you? I never got a nickname.”

I thought of several nicknames he wouldn’t like. “Watch it, Logan. The jealousy routine does not give me warm fuzzies.”

“I don’t know anything about this guy. Maybe if you filled me in, I wouldn’t be so—I don’t know—”

“Threatened?”

“I’m
not
threatened.” His voice rose, and the edges of his form flickered and faded. The sight sent a chill ricocheting through me.

I had to calm him down. “There’s not much to tell,” I said as I turned onto the parkway, which this late at night held none of its usual traffic. “He’s a junior, he’s in my history class. Oh, and he’s from Scotland.”

“Did you know bagpipes were actually invented in Ireland?”

“No, I didn’t.”

Logan snickered. “Yeah, we gave them to Scotland as a practical joke. They still haven’t figured it out.”

I chuckled, if only to indulge him. I couldn’t expect him not to be jealous—after all, Zachary could touch me, and Logan couldn’t. All I had to do to get rid of Logan, even now, was take a turn down a new road. If I were standing in his shoes—his violet high-top Vans, to be exact—I’d be exploding with fear and frustration.

We reached a stoplight. “Logan, do you ever think about plans?”

“Plans for what?”

“For the future. Beyond next week or next month.”

He didn’t reply at first. The traffic light turned green before he spoke.

“I do have a plan,” he said quietly, but didn’t elaborate.

“Can you tell me?”

“I don’t want to ruin the time we have together. Can we just enjoy this for now?”

My fingers grew cold on the steering wheel. “What are you planning? Are you going to—change?”

“Huh?” Logan sounded genuinely confused. “Change how?”

“I don’t know.” I turned onto my street a little too fast, and the tires made a tiny squeal. “Into a shade?”

“What?”
Logan’s shout echoed in the car. “Are you kidding? Aura, I would never in a million years. That’s insane.” He leaned toward me, his glow almost burning my eyes. “How can you even think it? Why would I want to be a”—his voice plummeted to a whisper—“shade?”

“Then you could go anywhere you wanted. You could hide in the dark.”

“And lose any chance of going to heaven. I might not be in a hurry to leave this world, but when I do, I want to be at peace.” He slumped back in his seat. “I must be acting like a total asshole for you to think I could shade out.”

“Not with me.” I bit my lip at my impending betrayal. “With your brother. He’s worried.”

“Shit.” Logan rubbed his face hard with both hands, as if he was trying to wipe away his whole self. “I probably have been a jerk around him lately.”

“He says you make him sick. Literally.”

“Oh God,” Logan whispered.

I focused on the road so I wouldn’t see the fear on his face. The street sweepers were coming early the next morning, so I had to park around the block, near the Keeleys’ old house.

“I didn’t mean to,” Logan said. “I swear.”

His remorse dug claws into my heart. “Maybe you’re not shading. Maybe Dylan felt sick and dizzy because he was upset. Maybe he needs some antianxiety medication.”

“Great, I’m driving my little brother crazy. I am so going to hell.”

“You are not. Only dictators and stuff go to hell.”

“Dictators and shades. If being stuck here forever counts as eternal damnation.”

A grunt was my only response as I concentrated on parallel parking. Logan’s glow was destroying my night vision, so I had trouble seeing the exact position of the other cars, but I didn’t want to ask him to get out, not in his current state of mind.

When we were parked, I turned off the car but didn’t open the door.

Logan looked at me, his posture hunched. “You said I don’t make you sick, right?”

“Right.”

“So you still want me to come to bed with you?”

I looked at the dashboard clock. One hour and three minutes until our anniversary. “If I say yes, will you tell me your plan?”

“Not yet, but you’ll be the first to know.” He held out his hand, flat with fingers spread. “Spider-swear.”

I slipped my solid fingers between his ethereal ones. My skin reflected his violet glow, which for tonight, at least, was strong and steady and seemed like it would never fade.

The heavy rain made the cemetery dark enough to see ghosts, and there were more than I’d expected. When Aunt Gina and I pulled up behind the Keeleys’ SUV, half a dozen violet spirits lingered around the graves of their loved ones (or hated ones), but they didn’t look at us, much less approach.

Most importantly, there was no Logan.

Before we got out of the car, Gina spoke to me in a gentle voice. “I think this’ll be good for you, sweetie. Give you some closure, like you said.”

When did I said that?
I pulled up the hood of my windbreaker, grabbed the flower wreath between my knees, and opened the door.

Ahead of us, Mr. Keeley retrieved a giant blue golfing umbrella from the back of the SUV, then went to the passenger door and helped his wife step out onto the wet grass. She slipped a little in her
high heels. My aunt hurried over to them, her own black umbrella wobbling on her shoulder.

This cemetery was smaller, with more trees, than the one my mother was buried in outside of Philadelphia. I always visited my mom when I went up there, and tried to go alone or with someone other than Gina, so that I could cry without making my aunt feel bad, as if she weren’t a good enough substitute.

Like me, the remaining Keeley brothers and Siobhan had dressed for the weather, in jackets and rain shoes.

“I miss you.” Siobhan hugged me hard. “The house feels so empty without you and Logan.”

“I didn’t know if I was welcome.”

She kissed my temple. “Consider this an open invitation. And speaking of invitations.” She fished in her purse and brought out a folded neon green paper. “Our next gig.”

My stomach sank. How could the Keeley Brothers go on without Logan? I unfolded the flyer.

THE KEELEYS, it said, with a picture of Siobhan and Mickey. The venue was the Green Derby, a tiny Irish pub in Towson, and the date was mid-January. Right after the trial.

“We’re doing acoustic sets now,” Mickey added over her shoulder. “More traditional stuff.”

“Nothing big,” Siobhan said. “Just something to fill the time between now and college.”

“No record companies.” Mickey tugged his hood down over his face. “Never again.”

Siobhan glanced at Aunt Gina, who was several feet away, talking
to Mr. and Mrs. Keeley. “Can you make it? It’s a bar, but you have a fake ID, right?”

I nodded. “I’ve been there before.” So had Logan, which meant he’d probably show up if he hadn’t passed on yet.

“We’re dedicating our first show to him.” The corners of her eyes drooped. “And probably our second show, and all the rest.”

Mickey tapped her elbow. “They’re ready.”

They headed off for the grave, and I followed, falling into step beside Dylan.

“You must have talked to Logan,” he said. “He’s been less of a dick this week.”

“Only less of one?”

“Okay, not at all. It’s been cool.”

“No more hot flashes or fainting spells?”

“Shut up,” he snorted. “You make me sound like an old lady.” He stopped and turned to me. “I’m telling you, that sick feeling was real. Logan was shading.”

“And how many shades have you seen that you can be so sure?”

“Three. You don’t forget the way they screw with your brain.”

“I know.” I’d only seen two in my life, and none until the past year. Sometimes I wondered if they’d always existed or if they’d evolved recently. In the month of November alone, four sixteen-year-olds had died in shade-related car accidents across the state.

“And then one time there was this really shady ghost,” Dylan said, “at the GameStop in the Towson mall, before it was BlackBoxed? I think he was only a kid when he died. Anyway, he was almost totally black, hardly any violet left at all.”

“What was the ghost doing?”

“That’s the funny part. He was screaming about wanting the new Nintendo 64. My friend Kyle and I were like, dude, that came out a million years ago. Which just pissed him off. So then the Obsidians showed up and detained him.”