I shivered, imagining the memory of what he’d done. “Has that happened a lot?” I asked.
“Not a lot …”
But way more than it should. “Maybe you shouldn’t be messing around with your gift, if you’re leaving people f**ked up.”
“And maybe you shouldn’t be trying to save people when you have no idea how or who you’re sending to their death in doing so,” he countered angrily.
Touché. We glared at each other.
“Anyway,” he said crossly, “you can solve the problem by telling me when it’s the right time.”
I shook my head. “I really can’t help you, Zander. I don’t know anything beyond the day.”
“That,” he said deliberately, “is exactly what I need to know.”
“Oh.” It clicked neatly into place. Of course. I was his perfect match. The yin to his yang.
“Now you see why I need you,” Zander said, stepping closer and looking into my eyes so intimately it was as if we touched. “We belong together.”
His voice had the huskiness of deep emotion and I was so drawn to it—to him—that I barely noticed I’d let him slip his gloved hand in mine until he tugged it gently, whispering, “Let’s go.” Slowly, he took a step, then two backward, his gaze unwavering.
Dazed, I felt myself peeling away from the car to follow him down the cracked sidewalk, shadowed in the colors of dusk. We walked, hand in hand past corrugated metal barriers shielding the closed stores, doors with buzzer boxes for the apartments overhead, and a convenience store, the only sign of life, with racks of newspapers, magazines, and candy squeezed into its tiny space. At the corner, we waited for cars to pass. There was a bar there, the kind with an anonymous door and windows high on the wall, like those in Jackson Kennit’s basement apartment.
“Where are we?” I asked Zander.
“Nervous?” He smiled and tucked his arm protectively over mine, pulling me closer, our gloved fingers still intertwined.
“No,” I lied, ignoring the tingly feel of being beside him. “Just curious. I’ve never been here.”
“I imagine not,” Zander said, nudging me to start across the now-empty street. “This is Norwood. Not one of the city’s best areas. Not one of the worst either.”
We walked halfway down the next block in silence. I had the same feeling I’d had driving here. That Zander both knew and didn’t know where he was going.
“Are you, like, following a trail or something?”
“Yes. But someone seems to have eaten all my bread crumbs.”
“For real, Zander. Can you feel that there’s one here?”
“Yes. I’ve felt it for days. I’ve been trying to pinpoint who, but figuring out that it’s here is as close as I’ve gotten.” He frowned. “That’s why I’ve been trying to get you to come with me, but you were oh so cooperative. We’re lucky it’s not too late.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
He stopped, looked at me directly. “Would that have made a difference?”
“Well … uh …” I fumbled, not sure of the answer myself. If he’d told me at school that he needed my help to do his bizarre “duty,” would I have come?
“Right,” he said, reading my doubt. He started walking again and I felt his grip tighten, holding my hand firmly, as if to be sure I didn’t escape. “That’s what I thought.”
He moved fast and I had to trot every third step or so to keep up. “So you’re waiting for me to see the mark?”
“Well, unless someone jumps out and screams ‘I’m dying,’ yes.”
“But I thought you could find them on your own.”
“Usually I can,” he said evenly. “But I’ve been walking around down here for days, so clearly I could use some help with this one.”
I thought about that as we moved briskly down the windy sidewalks. If I didn’t tell him, there’s a chance Zander would never find the person. Then what? They were going to die whether we were there or not. At least if we found them, there’d be a chance to do the right thing. Whatever that was.
“Don’t you think we should try looking in some of the buildings or something?” I asked. “There’s no one out—”
And then I saw her. Saw it, to be exact: the glow of the mark, partially hidden behind a Dumpster.
I stopped short, stumbling as Zander jerked my arm, not realizing I was no longer moving.
He turned and saw me staring down the alley. “Ahhh.” The satisfaction in his voice was clear. “You found him.”
I didn’t answer. Slowly, I walked down the narrow passageway. Zander had let go of my hand but was close on my heels. It must have been something about the way her legs were positioned, maybe the size of the feet I’d seen protruding that made me sure, even at first glance, it was a woman. She was sleeping, clearly homeless, with tattered, dirty bags full of unidentifiable stuff surrounding her like the walls of a fortress. Her own private empire of trash, like the “Shopping Bag Lady,” a story I’d read as a kid. It always made me sad, even though at the end she opens up a store and sells her “treasures.” This lady wouldn’t open a store, maybe never even open her eyes again.
Behind me, I felt Zander moving. From the corner of my vision I could see his hand in a coat pocket, poised for … something. I whirled to face him.
“What are you doing?”
He raised his eyebrows. “My duty, Cassie. That’s what we’re here for. To help him.”
“It’s not a him.” It pissed me off that Zander was ready to send this lady’s soul off and couldn’t even get her gender right.
He leaned forward, peering around the Dumpster. “Oh. Right you are.” He shrugged. “Fine. I’m going to help her.”
I took a step to the left, blocking his path. “Don’t you think we should talk about this first?”
“Talk about what?” Zander looked genuinely confused. “You see the mark, don’t you?”
I nodded. “Yeah. But …”
Understanding, then incredulity, washed over his face. “You’re not really thinking of trying to save her, are you?”
“I just think …” I trailed off, not really sure what I thought or what kind of argument might hold water with Zander or whether I should even be making an argument.