Ballad: A Gathering of Faerie (Page 21)

I laid my hands carefully on James’ head and began to stroke his hair. He shivered under my touch, whether from cold or because he knew what was coming, I didn’t know. I inserted myself into his dream, looking, as I had been lately, revoltingly gorgeous, and called his name.

In his dream, James jerked. “Dee?” His voice was plaintive.

I was really beginning to hate that girl.

I stopped stroking his hair and smacked his head instead, becoming visible so fast that my head pounded. “Wake up, maggot.”

James winced under my hand. Without opening his eyes, he said, “Nuala.”

I glared at him. “Otherwise known as the only female who will ever be in your bed, loser.”

He flopped his hands over his face. “God have mercy, my head feels like hell. Kill me now, evil creature, and put me out of my mercy.”

I pressed a finger against his windpipe, just hard enough that he’d have to ask me for a hall pass to be able to swallow. “Don’t tempt me.”

James rolled out from under my finger, shoving his face into his blue-checked pillow. His voice was muffled. “You have such a winning way about you, Nuala. Tell me, how long have you been gracing God’s green earth with your positively incandescent personality?” In his head, I saw him guessing one hundred years, two hundred years, a thousand years. He thought I was like the rest of them.

“Sixteen,” I snapped. “Didn’t you ever hear it wasn’t nice to ask?”

James turned his face so that he could look at me. He was frowning. “I’m not a very nice person. Sixteen doesn’t seem very long to me. We are talking years, right, not centuries?”

I didn’t have to tell him anything, but I did anyway. Scornfully, I said, “Not centuries.”

James rubbed his face on his pillow as if he could rub drowsiness off. He glanced back at me and raised an eyebrow. He kept his eyes on my face, but his expression was distinctly suggestive when he spoke. “Faeries must, um, develop a lot faster than humans.”

I slid off the bed and crouched beside it so that we were eye to eye, inches apart. “Would you like to hear a charming bedtime story, human?”

“Is it free?”

I hissed at him, teeth clenched.

He yawned and made a hand gesture to indicate that he didn’t care either way what I did with myself.

“Once upon a time, sixteen years ago, a faerie appeared in Virginia. Fully developed and fully aware, but with shit-for-brains. She couldn’t remember anything about how she got there except for something about fire. She went on her merry way, met other faeries, and figured out pretty fast that, like other faeries, she was vaguely eternal. And that unlike other faeries, every sixteen years on Halloween, she somehow gets the crap burnt out of her and then she oh-so-magically reappears again, no memories, brand new, for another sixteen years, rinse and repeat. The fricking end.”

I turned my face away from him. I hadn’t meant to say so much.

James was silent a long moment, and then he said, “You called them ‘faeries.’”

I don’t know what I’d expected, but that wasn’t it. “So?”

“So I thought They—you—hated to be called that.” James sat up. “I thought we were supposed to refer to you by delightful euphemisms like ‘the good folk’ and ‘he who must not be named.’ Shit. I think I’m getting my folklore mixed up.”

I jumped up and stormed restlessly around the small dorm room, looking for something heavy or pointy to hurl at his head. “Well, I’m not exactly one of Them, am I? Whatever. Whatever. I don’t know why I told you. You’re too totally self-involved to give a rat’s smelly ass about anything except yourself.”

“Nuala.” James didn’t raise his voice, but the intensity of it changed in such a way that he might as well have shouted. “Let me tell you a charming bedtime story. It’s been barely two months since I got out of the hospital. I spent my summer getting my head nailed back together and my lungs stitched up.” My eyes went to the scar above his ear, new and barely disguised in his hair, and my mind thought of the meaningless scar on my hipbone—not meaningless to James, or it wouldn’t be there.

James continued. “They crushed my car, my amazing car that I spent every summer of my teenage life fixing until it was perfect. They ruined my best friend’s life, they damn near killed me, and we’ve got nothing to show for it but scars and you sitting next to my bed.”

I stared at him.

He stood up, looked me straight in the eye, and crossed his arms. He was so tragically brave; the gold sparks inside him were so bright that I almost stumbled with wanting. “So yeah. Tell me, Nuala, why I should give ‘a rat’s smelly ass’ about anything other than myself right now?”

I didn’t have an answer.

He turned around and grabbed a brown hoodie from the end of his bed, a dismissive gesture.

I blurted out, “Because I can see Them and you can’t.”

James stopped moving. Just like that. He didn’t jerk or react in anyway: he just stopped. A long, long pause. By the time he turned around to face me, tugging the hoodie over his head, he was himself again. “One of your many talents. I think I’ve seen enough of y’all to last a lifetime. No offense to you and your”—he gestured toward me—“developments.”

My lip curled. “I’d argue the opposite. Where is it you’re running to so fast?”

James jammed on his sneakers, his face rueful. We both knew he was running out to see the thorn king.

“I don’t know what you want from me.” James brushed past me as if I was nothing. Like I was just one of the other people in his life. He didn’t care about any of them but stupid Dee, who didn’t give a crap about him. “I’m never going to say yes.”

He opened the door and pulled it shut behind him. Softly. I would’ve slammed it. I wanted to slam it now. For several long minutes I stood in his room, imagining him following his nightly routine of sneaking out through one of the first floor windows so that he didn’t have to pass by Sullivan’s room.

I could give up. I could find some other boy who glowed with golden promise and steal life from him, but what good would it do? I only had until Halloween anyway. Even if I didn’t find another boy, I probably wouldn’t die before then; it hadn’t been that long since the last one, right? The fact was, I had absolutely nothing to lose. The fact was, I wanted him.