I gave him a dubious expression, which lifted a corner of his mouth.
“You’re being guarded by a plastic cowboy, and we’re in a restaurant full of people.” He put his hands on the table, opening and closing them again until finally, eyes rolling, I relented.
And felt a little bit guilty about it.
I put my hands on the table, palms up. Slowly, he cupped my hands in his long fingers, then curled my fingers into fists. My skin went pebbly, the hair at the back of my neck lifting at his touch.
“You have to learn to control firespell,” he said, voice low. “But when you can, you’ll harness elemental powers.” His hands still wrapped around my fists, my palm began to warm from the inside.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m teaching you.” His voice was low, lush, intimate again. Slowly, he began to lift his hands from mine, like he was making a shield over my hands.
“Open your palms.”
A centimeter at a time, I uncurled my fingers. There, in each of my hands, was a tiny jumping spark of green. Aware of our surroundings, I stifled a gasp, but raised my confused gaze to his as he continued to shield the sparks from public view.
“You’ve seen the broad shot firespell can give you,” he said. “You’ve learned how to fan the power out. But you can pinpoint the power, as well.”
He tilted my hands so that my palms were facing, and the edges of my hands were against the table. And then, ever so slightly, he began to move my hands from side to side. The sparks followed suit, the momentum pushing them back and forth between my hands like the birdie in a game of badminton.
And just as quickly, it was over. He pressed my hands together again, the two sparks—like they were just a quirk of static electricity—somehow dissipating. He pulled his hands away again. I opened my palms, rustling my fingers as I searched for some hint of the spark.
“The power is yours to control,” he said, sliding the countermeasure into his pocket again. “Yours to manipulate. But you must be open to the power and your authority over it. It’s not always an easy burden to bear, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t wield it.”
He looked at his watch. “I have to go.” He slid to the end of the booth and stood up.
“I still don’t know what you did. How you gave me that spark.”
“The spark is yours. I just brought it out. Remember that. You are different, you know.”
Stubbornly, I shook my head. “Not different,” I said again. “And only lucky for a little while. We’re willing to let it go. Are you?”
He looked away, but I had one more question. “Sebastian.”
He glanced back.
“How did you know I was going to be outside?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t. I just got lucky.”
Without elaborating, he turned and walked into the crowd of men, women, and children waiting for their tacos. The crowd—and then the city—swallowed him up again.
I sat there for a moment just processing the meeting, rubbing the tips of my fingers against my palm. I could still feel the tingle there, and I wasn’t sure I liked it. I rubbed my hands against my skirt, as if to erase the feeling. Something about it—about him—just made me uneasy.
“Probably has something to do with the fact that he’s my sworn enemy,” I mumbled, then slid out of the booth myself. I walked back across the street and toward the school.
I couldn’t help but wonder about Sebastian’s motivations. He said he was concerned about me—but he didn’t really have any reason to be. Was he flirting? I doubted it, and even if he was, no, thank you.
Was it because he’d given me firespell? Had the magic created some kind of bond between us that I didn’t know about? I made a mental note to ask Scout about it . . . without telling her why I was asking. I might eventually need to spill Sebastian’s interest in me, but I wasn’t going to do that now. There was no reason, as far as I could see, to raise the alarm bells.
By the time I returned, my secretly empty sketchbook in hand, Scout was in the common room, ready to head out for dinner.
To be honest, seeing her made me nervous. I still wasn’t sure what I should tell her. After all, I’d willingly had a meeting with a Reaper. Granted, a Reaper who’d saved my life, but given her experiences, I wasn’t sure she’d care much about the difference. I didn’t want to keep a secret from her, but I also didn’t want the lecture.
So I decided to let it ride. I kept the dinner convo light, and steered away from all things darkly elite.
Study hall followed dinner, and as soon as we got back to the suite, Scout hied off to her room. She walked in, and with an apologetic glance back at me, started closing her door.
“Everything okay?”
“Yep. Just some work to do.”
Okay, this was, what, the second time this week she’d locked herself in her room? “What are you working on?”
“Just some spells. Nothing personal. I just need quiet and . . . you know . . . to concentrate.”
“Okay,” I said. I watched her disappear into her room, trying to figure out what I was supposed to do. Was I supposed to worry about her? Give her privacy? Break down the door to make sure she was okay? I mean generally, I’d be all for having time to oneself, but this girl had been kidnapped. I didn’t want to leave her alone if she was in there being held at spell-point by a Reaper.
“She’s fine, you know.”
I glanced back. Lesley stood in her doorway, the bow to her cello in hand.
I didn’t want to talk about Scout within earshot, so I walked over to Lesley’s room. “What do you mean?”
She plucked a tiny piece of lint from the bow. “She did the same thing earlier. She seems fine, though.”
“Huh,” I said. “Did you notice anything odd?”
“She has a nose ring. And her hair is dyed two colors.”
Okay, Lesley did have a point there.
“But I’m not sure how you are.”
My eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
She tilted her head to the side and gave me an up-and-down look. “You look weird. What’s going on?”
Was she really that astute? Or was I sending out some kind of “I just had a secret meeting with a Reaper” vibe? I shrugged and hoped it looked nonchalant. “Nothing. Just. You know. Being me.”
She didn’t look convinced, but when she shrugged, I figured she was moving on.
In any event, time to change the subject. “So, I’m gonna work on my drawing for studio. How’s yours coming along?”