“Come on, you haven’t seen the best of it,” Aidan urged, moving down the aisle, past the rows of wooden pews and toward the altar at the end. I followed alongside him, a death-grip on his hand. I was scared yet fascinated, all at once. How had he lit the candles? I mean, obviously he had done it with his mind, but how?
We passed the altar and moved toward the very back of the chapel, through a door, and up a dark spiral staircase. I trailed one hand across the rough stones as we climbed higher and higher. Finally we reached a wide landing, a wooden railing running across the front of it. I stopped and leaned against it, looking out. I could see the entire chapel below us, straight across to the entrance and the arched window above it. In the flickering candlelight it all looked surreal, like something out of a dream.
“This is amazing,” I said, letting out my breath in a rush as I drank in the view.
“We’re not there yet.” He reached for my hand and pulled me back to his side. “This is where the ladder comes in. You sure you’re okay in those boots?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall,” he promised. “Okay, right here. You go on, hold tightly with both hands. It’s ten rungs.”
He was right; I counted.
“Now reach for the railing, there to your right. Got it?”
I nodded as I felt around for the railing I was supposed to find. There it was — smooth wood, against the wall. “Yep, I’ve got it.”
“Okay, move as far away from the ladder as you can, still holding on to the railing. It’s okay, I’m right here behind you.”
As if he needed to tell me. I was totally aware of his presence. I could have sworn that I felt it physically, like a. a string or something, connecting us. It made me think of Cece and her astral cord. Taking a deep, steadying breath, I did what he asked and moved away from the ladder, my boots shuffling noisily against the floor.
About twenty steps away, I felt a wall, and stopped.
“Give me a minute,” he said.
I felt him move away from me, heard a rustling over in the corner. I wondered how it was that he could see well enough to do whatever it was he was doing.
“Close your eyes,” he said, and I felt his hand take mine. As always, a shudder ran up my arm, then down my back. “Sit down, right here.” He pulled me down beside him, onto a soft, fluffy blanket of some sort. It felt like velvet — soft, worn velvet. “Okay, just lie back.”
I kept my eyes squeezed shut; his voice was like a ghost’s beside me. But I did just as he said, and felt my head settle onto something soft.
“Now open your eyes,” he said.
I did — and sucked in my breath sharply. Directly above us was a square window, framing the full moon. Wispy, featherlike clouds cloaked the lower half, drifting across in slow motion. It looked so close, the moon — so bright and clear that I felt like I could reach up and touch it. I raised one arm, my hand stretched out toward the sight, and for a second I could have sworn that the clouds brushed against my skin, feeling somehow cool and damp against my fingers.
“It’s wonderful!” I breathed, squeezing his hand. My focus shifted then, and I was totally aware of him, his body next to mine, touching me from shoulder to heel.
“I knew you’d like it. This is my favorite place on campus; I come here every full moon. Before now I’ve always come alone.”
“Thank you,” I said, knowing that it wasn’t enough, not really.
“It’s plenty, Violet. And you’re welcome.”
I smiled in the dark, imagining his face. “How did you get the blanket and pillows up here?” I asked at last. “I can’t imagine carrying it all up that steep ladder.”
I felt him shrug beside me. “How else would I get it up here?”
Good question. “So, this is what you do in your spare time?” I teased. “Climb things? Interesting.”
“Yeah, if the view’s worth it. What about you? In your spare time? Fencing, right?”
“Yeah. My dad. he believed strongly that a girl should know how to take care of herself. So, when I was little, he wanted to start me in some kind of martial arts. You know, karate or something. I tried it, but I never liked it. It’s just too. I don’t know, too personal,” I said with a shrug. “So I tried fencing lessons instead. Right away I loved it. I was good, too. Really good,” I added proudly.
“And fencing’s not as personal?” I could hear the amusement in his voice, and it made me smile.
“No way. Your opponent’s on the other end of a weapon, for one. And being inside the protective gear, the gloves, the mask. I don’t know, I can’t really explain it. It’s like a cocoon or something.”
“Interesting,” he murmured. “I’ve never thought about it that way before.”
“And anyway, after my dad died. well, it somehow makes me feel closer to him.”
“So it’s just you and your mom now?”
“Stepmom,” I corrected. “Long story. Anyway, it’s my turn.”
“What is it you want to know?”
So much, I realized. I knew almost nothing about him. “For starters, how about where you’re from.”
“From Dorset, England,” he answered. “At least, originally.”
“Huh. I guess that explains the little bit of an accent.”
“You’ve got a good ear,” he said with a laugh. “I thought I’d lost it entirely by now.”
“Where are your parents now? Here in the States?”
“No, they’re long dead,” he said, sounding strangely dispassionate.
“I’m sorry.” We had that in common, then. Both of us orphans. “No brothers or sisters?” I assumed he was like the rest of us — an only child.
“Actually, I had two younger sisters. But they’re dead as well.”
“That’s terrible.” I didn’t know what else to say. His whole family, gone?
He shrugged. “It was a very long time ago.”
Still, I felt badly for prying. I knew how it felt to lose a family member and then have people prod you for details.
“You loved your father very much, didn’t you?” he asked, his voice soft.
I swallowed hard, amazed that I was even considering talking about it. “Yeah, I did. I still can’t believe he’s gone. I mean, he used to be gone for months at a time, on assignment. But he always came back.” My throat tightened, and I forced myself to continue. “Until the one time he didn’t.”
“He was a journalist?”
I blinked up at the night sky, watching as the last wisps of clouds drifted away from the moon, leaving it entirely exposed. “Yeah,” I answered at last. “A correspondent for a cable news network.”