Chapter 11
The next morning, it started raining again. Walking to school in this weather was miserable. I half expected Nick to skip Art History, but he was there – and only slightly damp. The fashion of the day was shown off in party-colored raincoats and pocket-sized umbrellas. It was the wet socks that made it miserable. College air conditioning was set on "frostbite" and by the time class was over, I'd just started shivering.
With a promise from Nick for a ride home after Drawing, I hurried up the stairs. The storm outside made the light in the room drab and oppressive, lending an air of darkness to the still life set up. Sam and I were amused and spent the class trying to create something more macabre and ominous than the other. It wasn't easy to do with a roll of paper towels and some bad pottery. When the power flickered, it only helped maintain the ambiance.
The rain was still coming down hard when class let out. I figured Sam would get a ride home with Nick too, but he bailed, saying he had to meet with one of his professors. That left me alone and unwilling to brave the weather that had flash flood warnings dinging my phone. Ah, fall in the south, right? It was almost like monsoon season some days.
I had Calculus homework to finish, though, and a basic understanding of it after Nick's help. Heading to the common area of the Art Building, I decided that would be a good way to pass the time. Just inside the main doors, the foyer had a selection of tables set up for students to do their homework, and I had plenty to be done. I took a spot off to the side that was still visible from the entrance. Hopefully, Nick would see me if I got sucked into a calculation.
I'd almost finished two of the problems when the sound of the door made me look up. At first, I smiled, thinking it was Nick, but as the man headed toward me, I wasn't so sure. His long, rain-soaked duster was almost a robe. The hood was pulled low over his face. And those lips? The clothes weren't quite right, but I'd never forget those lips.
So many times, I'd seen him, but never like this. Never in my world. With each step he took closer, the more sure I became that this was really happening. I sucked in a breath, refusing to even blink for fear that he'd vanish.
"Hello, little dove," he said softly, the voice missing that strange resonance from the corridor.
And the thunder rumbled again. The lights flickered out, shrouding the building in darkness. Lightning flashed, the light coming through the large glass doors. The purplish-white glare illuminated his jaw like a snapshot. I couldn't even breathe. The color was all wrong, but the angles and lines were exactly right. It was him. It had to be him.
My mind whirled as I waited for the generators to kick on, but I couldn't think of a single thing to say. All I could do was stare with wide, shocked eyes. My breath hung in my chest as the man from my dreams stared quietly back. This was impossible, but he was real, and he was finally here.
For a moment, nothing at all happened. Only the sound of water dripping from his coat broke the silence. I couldn't even convince myself to speak, terrified I was wrong.
Slowly, he reached up and pushed back the hood, his lips parting in a smile so sweet I thought I'd have to die to see it again. The lightning flashed one more time as I sought his eyes. I found a beautifully dark abyss instead of the universe I'd expected. When it flashed a third time, my heart clenched painfully – just as the emergency lights clicked on, turning my fantasy world into a soft, yellow, and dim college foyer. Nick stared back at me. His face was carefully neutral.
I swallowed.
"You ok?" he asked.
I took a long, shuddering breath and nodded, my eyes locked on his lips. Why hadn't I seen it before? Maybe it was the difference in color, or maybe it was because I hadn't expected him to actually be real, but I couldn't deny it anymore. Words failed me, so I said nothing, simply reached into my bag for the sketchbook I always kept close. In the dim light, I had to dig. The sound of my rummaging was like a wild animal trying to escape. I was right. I knew it; I just had to prove it to myself.
Nick sighed and grabbed the homework I'd left open on the table, turning it around as he sat across from me. Reaching over, he grabbed my pencil, twisting it in his fingers as he smiled. Without saying a word, he just inspected the thing that had started out as a drawing before turning his attention to the problems I'd been trying to work through. He seemed oblivious to my inner conflict.
Finally, I found it. Frantically, I flipped to the first page, then the next, then the one after that, looking up at him between each. It was the same. In black and white, rather than color, the lines were the exact same. His lips, just like the ones in my sketchbook, curled, but his eyes never left my assignment. I was sitting across the table from Death. That, or I was completely and totally insane.
"You can't always make the world fit into the rules you want," he said softly, erasing something on the page.
"Nick?"
His eyes caught mine for a second, then returned to the page. "And you're probably going to need a little more help with Calculus." His voice was rich and soft. Like Death's, but without the resonance that came between worlds.
I swallowed. "Nick?"
That smile returned, his perfectly even teeth exactly like I remembered. "Not my best light?"
I dropped my sketchbook onto the table. Death's face looked back from under the cowl, staring up at his own reflection in Nick.
"I hadn't seen you in a hood before."
He looked at me again. "I think you have."
Ice flowed over my skin, pinpricks following in its wake, and my mouth fell slack, too shocked to even gasp. I swallowed and licked at my lips, begging my body not to fail me, hoping my voice wouldn't crack. "Why are you here?"
"I was trying to beat the rain. If you recall, I did offer you a ride home." The smile faded. "Are you scared of me now, little dove?"
"No. Should I be?"
"Never."
I nodded and pressed my fingers to my lips, looking around the room. We were completely alone. Everyone had either rushed home or was in the middle of class. "I'm losing my mind. That's what this is. I've finally gone insane."
"No," he assured me, looking back at the page to fill in a few numbers. "You just need to stop trying to fight what you don't understand. It's easy once you figure it out."
I giggled nervously. "Are we talking about the same thing?"
He laughed, no malice in the sound at all, but his eyes were still on the numbers. "No. I'm talking about your Calculus homework."
"What am I talking about?"
Those long lashes lifted slowly, his eyes so warm beneath. "Death."
"You know," I breathed.
"I was there." He paused, watching me like he expected me to run. "Which is why I'm here. How's Mr. Hussein, anyway?"
"Don't you know?"
He shook his head. "I haven't had time to look."
"Jamal's perfect. Just like you promised." I looked at my sketchpad, feeling like I was living in a dream. "You've spent so much time with me, but I don't understand why."
"Because every time I tell you to forget me, you just try harder. This was the only way I could think to keep you safe. You've been noticed, little dove." The homework was forgotten. His focus was riveted on my reaction.
Oddly, his answer made complete sense. It's exactly what I would have expected from Death. He was honest and caring, but powerful and terrifying, all at the same time. I didn't know why I hadn't seen it before.
"Why are you here?" I asked him again. "At college. Why is Death in my Calculus class?"
He shrugged. "I like math. I like art too, but I don't really know much about it. That's really more of Sam's thing." When I opened my mouth to protest the answer, he held up the white number two pencil he'd taken from my book. "We're here because you made a mistake."
"How?"
He spun the pencil in his hands. "Sam sees more than you think. He's not the only one. I'm willing to bet you don't know how to get this back on the page."
"I..." My throat pinched closed, the words stopping. I shook my head uselessly.
"The world doesn't fit into the simple rules you want it to, Sia. Most of it does, but not all. The problem is that when you do things like this, people notice, and not the ones you want."
"Like you?"
He shook his head. "No. I really am here to keep you safe."
"Why?"
He smiled and looked aside. "Your eyes are as iridescent as a peacock's feathers. Your hair burns with a flame that comes from inside." I watched him take a long deep breath. "You smell like spun sugar." He chuckled. "That. You make me – me! – wax poetic. Everything I've said since we met is completely true, little dove, but it's not all of it. I also hope you'll help me."
"With what?"
The world had just become crazy. I should've expected it, though. Nothing good ever happened to me without something twice as bad right on its heels. I met the most amazing man, and the next week, I went insane. Then again, I'd been on the edge of that for a few years, now.
Nick reached over to my sketchbook and flipped through the pages until he found a blank one. He took the pencil and lay it across the paper diagonally so it would fit, then slowly pressed it down with one long, strong finger. The shadows were deeper than those I'd drawn, but perfect for the dim light in the room. That's when I realized all hints of color had faded to shades of grey as the number two pencil returned to the paper it had come from.
"With that," he said. "With bending reality and creating something new."
I sighed. "I don't know how I do it, though."
"I do."
"Can you show me?" I heard the pleading in my voice but didn't care.
Nick smiled proudly. "That's pretty much what I was hoping you'd want."
Those words made reality crash back down. I'd been crushing on Death for over four years. I'd been smitten with Nick since we met. I was going insane, right in front of the best man I'd ever known, but he wasn't here to meet the girl of his dreams. He'd been following me because he needed me to make something real. He needed a favor, not a girlfriend. Maybe we were both crazy, but our goals most certainly were not the same.
"God, I'm an idiot," I muttered, closing my sketchpad and book, then shoving them both in my bag. When I reached for my homework, his hand caught my wrist.
"Sia?"
"I'll help you, Nick," I assured him. "I owe you that for Jamal. I just..." I shook my head. "I should have known better. Guys like you? I knew it was too good to be true."
I tried to put my homework away, but he refused to let go, his grip light and delicate, more of a request than a demand.
"Can I take you to dinner?" he asked.
"Look. You don't have to –"
"I want to." His thumb traced the inside of my wrist. "Knowing you can help me has nothing to do with thinking you are the most amazing woman I've ever seen. You're not the only one who's had trouble staying away."
"What?"
He chuckled. "I was hoping to get another kiss. At least one. More would be better."
"Just a kiss?" I asked, feeling a nervous tingling in my gut that was so close to being a flutter.
Something devilish passed across his dark eyes. "To start. I figure this conversation just killed my chances of mini-golf, though."
I laughed, the joke convincing me this wasn't an elaborate prank as my heart picked up the pace. It wasn't fear. I'd never been scared of him, not really. I was terrified I was insane, but Nick had always felt like a safety net in either guise. It was hard to be frightened of the man who had not only saved my life, but had also been in almost every erotic fantasy I'd had over the last few years. Instead, this feeling was a lot closer to the giddiness I'd had when we first met.
Nick was Death. Death was real. This guy – who was both of them at once – was actually interested in me? There weren't words to describe this feeling, but I liked it a lot.
I bit my lip and nodded. "So Sam knows about all of this?"
"And Luke."
"The creepy guy?"
"My other roommate. Blonde guy with the martini? He's in your writing class."
That was the one. Wait. There was one of them in each of my classes, and he made it sound like that was intentional. So those guys were helping him?
"Why are y'all watching me?"
"Because you used the pencil." His response didn't exactly answer my question, but it said enough. "I can't be more clear than that, not here."
My teeth closed on the inside of my lips, pressing them together, and I nodded, mulling that over. "Then when and where?"
He pushed my homework back to me. "Since you're going to fail that anyway, how about now? I can help you with the math, too."
"So, the whole physics major thing? That's not bullshit?"
"I'm honestly enrolled as a physics major. I'm honestly fond of the sciences." He grinned deviously. "Still think I'm hot?"
"Yeah. I kinda like blue."
He looked away, a surprised smile playing on his lips. "That's even better than I hoped. Can I buy you a coffee while we wait for a dry ride?"
"You didn't drive?"
Nick shook his head. "Nah, I was going to get Luke to bring my car and play it all cool. If you're willing to come back to my place, um, we can finish this conversation. I'm going to bet my vague answers haven't satisfied your curiosity at all?"
"You're right." I put the last of my things away and stood, waiting for Nick to join me.
He looked up at me and smiled, lifting himself to his feet. His hand reached up for my face timidly. "I thought you'd be scared of me," he whispered.
"I thought you didn't want to see me again."
His dark eyes held me as his fingers traced my cheek. "No, I was trying to keep you safe from all of this." His voice had grown deeper, maybe even a little rough as he leaned just a hair closer. "But I think you've moved far past that."
My reply came out as a breath. "How far?"
"Far enough that I'm glad I no longer have to hide from you."
Then his mouth caressed mine, tender and careful, teasing me with the memories of the last time we'd done this. I pressed in for more, wanting to deepen the kiss, but Nick pulled away. His thumb swept over my cheek.
"As much as I'd love to continue this, we can't stay here. There's a reason I didn't want you to walk home alone." He grabbed his trench coat from the back of the chair. "And I think it's still raining."
I tried hard to play it cool while a million questions bottlenecked in my mind. The one I asked was, "Just tell me you don't melt?"
He laughed as he settled the coat across my shoulders. "No. I don't melt. Would make it a lot harder to take care of you if I did."
Outside, the rain had let up a bit, coming down steadily instead of torrentially, but it was still enough to soak everything. Holding Nick's coat across my shoulders, we jogged across the street, ducking into the Kharma Kafe. Inside, the place was packed. Evidently, we weren't the only ones wanting to avoid the weather.
Nick pulled out his phone and sent a message. I could only assume it was to his roommates. In just a few seconds he had a response. "It's better to be around people, but the guys are coming. Um, can I get you a coffee while we wait?"
I shook my head. "As much as I'm an addict, I think that might be a bad idea. I kinda..." I sighed, not knowing how to explain that my guts might revolt.
"Yeah. I understand. This is a lot to take in. I'm sorry." He gestured to the corner. "Look, what do you remember about that night?"
"The gas station robbery?" He nodded and the memories flooded back. "Everything. They told me it was hallucinations caused by the head injury and medication."
"Do you know what happened to the gunman?"
I lifted my chin but dropped my voice. "You killed him. Just like you killed the people who wrecked my car."
His eyes held mine without remorse. "I did."
I looked around quickly, wondering if anyone had heard. "How?"
"What did you see that day, Sia? What did it look like to you?"
"Smoke. Brown, almost rust-colored smoke."
"When?"
I felt like the bodies around us were too close. Like every person in the coffee shop could hear what we were talking about. "When I reached up."
"That's not when he died." He sounded surprised. "You saw the aether?"
I nodded. "It came out of his eyes, and mouth, and skin. It was everywhere, like I would've expected blood, but almost like liquid vapor."
He clenched his teeth and looked away. "Fuck."
"What?"
He pushed his hair back, pulling it into a ponytail at the base of his neck in frustration. "I can't believe you can see it."
"See what?"
"The fog," he said, dropping his hair. "You're creating already, and you can actually see it." He nodded to himself. "You're acting more like a demon than a human." He reached out and grabbed my chin, the kind gentleman suddenly gone in his intensity. "Have you ever inspired anyone?"
"What are you talking about?" I asked, stepping back.
"Had a painting made to honor your beauty, whistled a tune and someone made it better, made a comment that someone turned into a novel. Things like that?"
"No. Not that I know of. Why?"
He rubbed his hand across his mouth. "You shouldn't see that substance. Muses inspire, they don't create. You're acting like a demon."
"I'm not a demon," I told him.
My words snapped him back to reality. A smile flicked in the corner of his mouth, gone as quickly as it came. "Yeah, I know that, little dove."
"Then what the hell are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about that pencil we put back on the page." He gestured to my backpack. "I'm pretty sure you saw that."
"But there was no smoke."
"I know. The interesting thing is you didn't need it. Most of us do. Makes me wonder what you could do if you had it." His phone beeped, cutting him off before he could explain more than that. He read the message quickly. "The guys are here. Still willing to come over for a few answers?"
"Sure." His little tirade was making me feel a lot less sure of his mental stability, and my own was already in serious doubt. "I mean, it's not like I can get any more crazy, right?"
"Yeah," Nick agreed, gesturing to the door. "Pretty much. At least the rain slowed down for a bit."
That was all I needed to hear. I led the way, pushing through the people crowding the exit in my desire to get a whole answer I could understand. So far, everything he'd said only made me more confused and worried, not less. Trying to fight the anxiety, I just wanted to be someplace a bit less crowded where no one could hear him talking about murder – then have him assure me it was all going to be alright.
Shoving through the door, I ran face first into a tall, beautiful, amazingly built blonde man. Something inside me snapped sending every panic alarm into overdrive. The urge to run was instantaneous.
"Hello, Sienna," Luke said, grabbing my arm before I could bolt.