“Yeah, thanks. I won’t show it to anyone.”
“I know.” Then he pulled out another page and handed it to me, grinning. It was the drawing of me in my zebra dress and pink boots.
Oh, heavens, I liked that boy. When I got back to my unit, I stared at the drawing. He really captured me, which made me hope he spent a lot of time thinking about me. I sure spent enough time thinking about him, after all. I cleared off my bed and lay down with the drawing next to me.
Reading over the poem a few more times, I didn’t have any new brilliant ideas. The whole thing was too weird and vague. I could come up with a lot of explanations that kind of fit, but nothing was perfect. Plus I kept coming back to the fear that it had something to do with me, which made it hard to concentrate. I tucked the poem under the drawing, turned off the lights, and fell asleep.
I opened my eyes to the dark room. There was a pale light near me and someone hummed a soft, haunting melody. It made me ache inside. Reaching out in a panic, I almost knocked my lamp over as I switched it on. Reth was sitting on the end of my bed.
“Hello,” he said, his voice and smile pleasant.
“You can’t touch me!” I sat up and pulled the covers over myself.
“Yes, about that. You need to negate the command.”
“Excuse me?”
He looked at me patiently, like he was explaining something to a stubborn child. “You need to break that command.”
“And why on earth would I ever want to do that?” I glared at him. Lunatic.
“Because I wasn’t finished.”
“Oh, no, I really think you were.” I held up my wrist. It still bore the scarlet mark of his hand and, to my eyes at least, was bright against the light of the lamp. Then, since I was holding up my hand anyway, I flipped him off.
“You’re going to need more.”
“Well, that’s easy.” I held up my other hand and flipped him off with that one, too.
His golden eyes shimmered softly in the dim light. “It didn’t work; you’re still cold.”
“I’m just fine, thank you very much.”
“‘Eyes like streams of melting snow, cold with the things she does not know.’”
I glanced down at the poem; it hadn’t been moved, still hidden underneath the drawing. “Yeah, I know that one. Ends with lots and lots of death.”
He shook his head. “No, that’s not yours. That’s hers. Yours has a different ending. You’ll understand everything if you let me fill you.”
“What are you talking about?” I shouted. He was really starting to frustrate me. If he had to be obnoxious, the least he could do was be clear. The whole obnoxious and mysterious thing wasn’t working for me.
“We need to finish. I cannot explain it to you now—court secrets and whatnot. Simply let me finish and then you’ll be able to see.”
“Tell me what you did to me or get out.” He had answers, but I knew he wasn’t going to give me any. I was too tired to deal with faerie nonsense tonight.
“There are many who would rather she be the one. If I don’t finish, you might not survive. I’d like you to survive.” He smiled affectionately at me.
“Who is this ‘she’? One of your faerie friends?”
“Bless me, no.”
Could he be less helpful? “Are you doing this? Killing the paranormals?”
He cocked his head to the side. “Why would I do that?”
“You tell me.”
“I have no reason to kill those creatures.”
I took a deep breath, trying again. “What did you do to me?” Every nerve was strained as I waited for his answer.
“I’m going to fill you, to create you. I tried to be gentle but you never held on to it. Then you wouldn’t accept any more, so you left me no choice. It won’t hurt if you behave and stop denying that you want it. Shall we finish?”
“Fill me with what?!”
“Please break the command, Evelyn.”
“I won’t! Not ever; you’re never touching me again.”
His large, ageless eyes narrowed and he smiled again. It had a touch of cruelty. “I will enjoy it when you beg me to touch you again.”
“Get out of my room.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Until you call for me then, my love.” The light went out and I swore, not wanting to be alone in the dark with him. By the time I found the switch and turned the light back on, he was gone.
HEARTS AGLOW
"What do you think he meant by that?” Lend asked, frowning. Today he surprised me by wearing a pudgy, acne-plagued blond boy. It made me laugh; usually he stuck with the whole hot thing. Still, I could see him underneath, so it didn’t really matter what he put on the outside.
“I don’t know—he’s Reth. What does he ever mean by anything?” I had just finished telling him what Reth had said about the poem and needing to finish me.
“Well, as much as I hate the guy, he’s probably got resources we don’t. What were his exact words about the poem?”
“He said that ending wasn’t mine, it was hers. Whoever that is. But that’s good, at least, right? I mean, I’d rather not be bringing ‘death, death, death, death, death’ and so on and so forth.”
Lend laughed. “Yeah, probably not. Death in sparkly platform sandals. It’s a nice image, at least.”
I smacked him on the shoulder. “Hey, I’m scary. You thought I was going to kill you, remember?”
“Oh, I remember. Man, that was a stressful day.”
“No kidding. I wonder if things have always been this weird and I just never knew, or if they’re getting worse.”
“They’re getting worse.”
“Okay, so poetic prophecies and creepy faerie stalkers aside, I’ve got an important question.”