Part 19 (1/2)
Okay, so what is your plan, then?”
”I'm going in there and I'm going to talk to him.”
”You're going to talk to him? That's it? That's the big plan?” My hand goes to my locket and I press the tiny catch. It opens with a soft snick. I close it, open it, close it again. I'm a little too aware that I threw pretty much the same question at my mother earlier this evening just before she left. And that she hasn't come back yet as far as I know-The sound of the car engine hacking to life smashes my reverie to pieces.
”What are you doing?” Gabriel flips on his blinker.
”Stop,” I say, clamping my hand over his wrist.
”You can stop me from using my Talent. I'm pretty sure you can't stop me from driving your a.s.s back home.”
”Gabriel! Just hold on a minute, will you?” He leaves the blinker on but otherwise allows the car to idle at the curb. A quiet ticking, too reminiscent of the sound of a clock, fills the interior of the car.
”He's ... dangerous.”
”All the more reason you're not going in there alone and-”
”He seems to be aiming at everyone in my life. First Rowena, now Agatha. I can't let you be the third casualty.” Gabriel snorts.
”I'm pretty sure I can take him.” I punch his shoulder, probably harder than I should.
”Would you not be such a guy about this? You can't *take' him because he's not... normal, really. He's evil. I shouldn't have to explain this to you, of all people.” I take a breath.
”Please. I don't want him to know that you're ... important to me. He can't know that.” The engine mutters and skips beneath us and I stare at the green blinker light flas.h.i.+ng on the dashboard. And then without warning Gabriel turns to me, grips the back of my neck with one hand, and pulls me to him. He kisses me hard, briefly, on my mouth.
”Ten minutes,” he says, and his voice is husky.
”You've got ten minutes and then I'm coming after you. And I'm walking you into the lobby at least.” Coming to a standstill before the huge darkened doors, I peer through the smudged gla.s.s. A security guard is slumped over the front desk, his head lolling on his folded arms.
”She's in there, right?” I ask for the fifth time, and to his credit Gabriel doesn't point that out.
”She hasn't left,” he says quietly. As if his words conjure her up, Rowena comes skipping into sight. She is alone. I rap on the gla.s.s and she smiles, waves at me as if we're playing a game. She crosses the floor and leans over the security guard, her lips curving close to his ear. He turns his head in his sleep, and although his eyes never open, he fumbles at his belt, holds up a s.h.i.+ning ring of keys, selects one, and hands it to her. My sister smiles again and says something else to him, at which point he buries his head in his arms and seems to pa.s.s out again. She looms brightly toward us, unlocks the heavy doors, and swings them open.
”You made it,” she says, as if she were the hostess of some spectacular party.
”Alistair will be so pleased to see you. Not you, though,” Rowena adds with a frown that is still somehow charming.
”He said only her,” she says cajolingly to Gabriel, flexing one finger at me.
”Stop it,” I say briefly.
”He's not coming in with me so don't waste your time.”
”Well!” Rowena huffs in an entirely different voice. I lean closer and examine my sister. Despite her relatively good spirits, she looks even paler than before and the whites of her eyes have taken on a yellowish tinge. She's still wearing the black dress, only now it's sporting a long muddy streak down the right side and a ragged chunk of the hem is missing.
”You look like s.h.i.+t, Ro,” I say matter-of-factly.
”And that's saying a lot.”
”I'm in love,” she replies haughtily, her fingers flying to her cheeks.
”What about James?” If he's lucky, he's still comatose to this nightmare, tucked away somewhere in one of the house's many bedrooms. I look around the foyer of Lerner Hall. One fluorescent light buzzes and drones above the sleeping security guard's head. Other than that the building is dark and quiet. Rowena hesitates, her lips parted. Then somethingwithin her seems to stiffen and she pirouettes, moving away in bobbing steps like a balloon being pulled on a string.
”He's waiting,” is all she says. I put my hand on Gabriel's arm-he looks distinctly unhappy.
”Ten minutes,” he reminds me pointedly, and I nod.
”Ten minutes,” I repeat, and for a second I wonder if he's going to kiss me again.
Or if I should kiss him. But he doesn't and I don't. Instead, I follow my sister, the back of my neck p.r.i.c.kling. It seems like years since I walked down this hallway during that first week of school, so determined to show my family that I wasn't useless after all, so hopeful that I would find whatever Alistair wanted. Or what he said he wanted. All too soon we approach his office. My sister raises one white knot of a fist and gives the door more of a caress than a knock. I roll my eyes-only for my own benefit, I know, but being snide gives me something like courage. Which I need now more than ever. The door opens under Rowena's hand and we proceed into the room. Alistair is seated behind his desk. In contrast to my sister, his skin glows with health and his gla.s.ses gleam as if he's just polished them. A simple bra.s.s tray holding two crystal gla.s.ses and a cut crystal decanter of some murky brownish-red liquid waits in the vicinity of one pointed black-suited elbow. My eyes skip over the tray quickly, scan the walls, then return to his face, which holds a politely patient expression.
”Tamsin,” he says softly, and I try not to visibly shudder at the quiet exultation in his voice. I think back to the last time I was here and how well he played the part of the anxious professor.
”Dr. Callum,” I reply, my voice calm.
”Or should I say Dr. Knight?” He bares his teeth in a silent laugh. Then he turns to my sister, who has been hovering lovingly by his side, and says, ”Wait outside,” his voice low and expressionless. Her face goes slack as if all her features are sliding off her skin. But she doesn't protest, only runs her hand across Alistair's arm, touching his fingers lightly with her own before moving toward the door. Alistair acknowledges neither her parting gesture nor her departure.
”Sit?” he asks.
”No, thanks,” I say as breezily as possible.
”And don't offer me any more tea or whatever that is to drink, either,” I say, pointing to the decanter.
”I'm not in the mood for your hospitality.
”I'm not really into sports, but I figure a good offense is the best defense.
”This?” Alistair says with a little chuckle, pointing toward the decanter.
”I doubt very much you'd want to drink this. You're too ... ethically minded. But then again, that's always been the problem with your family” He folds his hands together on the desk and looks at me.
”Seriously, do you know how foolish your family is ... and has beenthroughout the years? Do you know how small they've made their lives and their Talents?
What a waste. A sheer waste.”
”Where are my parents?” I ask through numb lips. Not that I expect him to really tell me the truth, but at least maybe I can tell if he's lying. But he waves his hand dismissively and says, ”I wasn't interested in what they had to offer.
”I can't imagine what that would have been, but I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of asking. He leans across the desk, fixing me with his icy eyes, and I'm reminded of a large black crane.
”I am interested in what you can do for me.”
”And what is that?” Alistair smiles.
”You can bring me what I want.”
”I think I already did that. I brought you the clock,” I say, ”and now my obligation is done.” He touches the rim of a crystal gla.s.s lightly. A hollow ringing sound fills the s.p.a.ce between us.
”Perhaps you can be persuaded to try again.”