A Lonely Magic (5 page)

“Ah, I see.” He nodded as if her words made total sense.

Fen wanted to hit him. One little tiny punch, just to make him take her seriously.

She tried again. “I don’t have anything with me.”

“You don’t have a passport, do you?” he asked, reaching for his seatbelt and drawing it around his waist.

“What?” The word was a yelp, but the breathless torrent that followed sounded far more plaintive than Fen intended. “No, of course not. I don’t need a passport. I’m not leaving the country. I live here. I live here. This… No.” She reached for her own seatbelt. She’d buckled it securely around herself the moment she sat down. “This isn’t going to work. I’m sorry but I need to get off the plane. I’ll… I’ll… I don’t know what I’ll do. But I’ll do something else.”

He tilted his head to one side. “You don’t have a coat.”

“I know that,” she snapped. “That’s the whole point. I don’t have a coat. I can’t be on a plane when I don’t have a coat.” She was fumbling at the seatbelt. The damn thing didn’t work like real seatbelts, like car seatbelts. There wasn’t a button. It was some weird latch contraption, a piece that had to be lifted to separate the two halves.

Kaio reached forward and put his hand over hers. She stilled at the feel of the warm touch. It was the first time he’d touched her. Even when he’d placed his coat around her, he’d been careful not to brush his skin against hers.

The feeling in her stomach—that was queasiness. Fear. Panic from being on a plane, on an airplane, when she’d never flown on a plane before, never gone anywhere before. It had nothing to do with his touch. And the breathlessness—that was anxiety. She needed to get off this plane. Right now. Really quickly. Like ten minutes ago.

“Listen,” he said gently.

“Listen to what?” The seatbelt finally opened and she pulled the two halves apart with relief.

“The engine.”

She stilled. The engine was louder, much louder, and… she looked out the window. The ground was moving. Yep, the land was definitely in motion, sliding away beneath them as if they were on skates. And the feeling in her stomach? It was pressure, pushing her back against her seat. Oh, God, oh, God. And then it was too late. The plane was leaving earth.

Fen stared out the window as Kaio gently closed the seatbelt around her waist. That was the ground. Earth. And it was going farther and farther away. It was turning into an impressionist painting, blurs of color, grey and green and dirt yellow and blue, and she blinked, blinked, blinked harder, willing the tears away.

This was crazy. The whole thing. Twenty-four hours ago her life had been on track. All the broken pieces, she’d squashed them back together into a semblance of a life.

And it was working.

She was working.

The grey days outnumbered the black ones, not always by a lot, but they were definitely winning. And even on the black days, she held it together. Granola for breakfast, always. The safety and solitude of her own space. The store, grounding her. Customers who knew her name. Theresa, whose sharp eyes always recognized the moment when Fen needed a laugh or a cookie. The small pleasures. And at night, the focus—one class after the next, one set of readings following another. She was working.

And now her house of cards was tumbling down.

“I need to go home,” she said.

“Think of this as a vacation,” Kaio said.

Fen turned desperate eyes to him. “I need to go home,” she repeated.

“You will,” he said, with quiet confidence. “This is temporary.”

Fen could barely hear his words. The panic attack had her firmly in its grasp. She buried her face in her hands.

He put his hand on her shoulder. “Breathe. Just breathe.”

No one ever dies from a panic attack, a distant part of Fen’s brain reminded her. It didn’t help. Her heart was going to explode in her chest, burst into a thousand pieces, split apart and tear the rest of her apart with it. She was going to strangle, no air, her lungs quitting in disgust at her idiocy. Her brain, her useless, stupid, pointless brain, always telling her about the next danger, always warning, always criticizing, it was going to give up, just shut down and stop working, turning her into a zombie.

“Breathe,” Kaio repeated. “One breath after another. Take your time.”

“I don’t have a coat,” she gasped.

“You won’t need one.”

Fen stared out the window, feeling thoroughly humiliated.

In kindergarten, Tommy Frazier wet his pants in front of the whole class. A dark spot growing on the cloth, a puddle growing on the floor around him.

For the next fifteen years, that had been the pinnacle of embarrassment in Fen’s mind.

As bad as Tommy wetting his pants? Nope. Okay then.

But today she’d hit it.

Having a panic attack in front of gorgeous amazing voice guy? Damn.

She looked for the positive side.

At least she hadn’t had a panic attack in front of gorgeous murderer guy. That would have been worse. The thought caused her to choke on a laugh.

God, yeah, that would have been worse.

“Tea?” Kaio offered.

Fen turned her head.

“You seem to be feeling better.”

“Not hyperventilating anymore, you mean?” she asked bitterly.

His silence in response had Fen blushing, embarrassment deepening. He’d been perfect through the entire thing, not getting anxious, not asking questions or demanding information, doing nothing that would increase her stress level, simply waiting calmly while she blew a gasket.

Why was she being a bitch? He didn’t deserve it.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” he asked again.

“No,” she said sullenly. And then she kicked an imaginary self in the seat of the pants. It was not his fault. None of this was his fault. “Thank you, though. And, if you have some, coffee would be nice. I prefer coffee.”

He nodded and she turned her attention back to the window until a cup of coffee appeared before her.

“This is nice,” she said, gesturing inadequately to the cream-colored leather seats and spacious interior of the plane. “Not exactly how I imagined flying.”

“Is this your first flight?” he asked.

“Not obvious?” She took a sip of the coffee. Warm was all she needed, but it was rich and deep and packed with flavor.

“You’ve been through a great deal in the past day. Distress is understandable.”

Distress felt like an understatement. Fen’s life had been ripped away from her.

Except not literally. She could be dead right now. Drinking coffee in a ridiculously luxurious private airplane had to be better than being a slab of meat on a coroner’s table.

She murmured something noncommittal and looked out the window. They were flying over clouds. It looked like a vast landscape, a snowy wasteland churned by waves, nothing she had ever seen before. Television didn’t do it justice.

“May I ask you a personal question?” Kaio said abruptly.

Fen’s eyes narrowed. Her instinctive response would have been an immediate no. She didn’t want him to know anything about her. But they might be together for days and she had questions of her own, lots of them. Perhaps some quid pro quo was in order. “Shoot.”

He looked puzzled.

“Go ahead,” she tried again.

“I couldn’t help but notice your art earlier,” he said, gesturing toward his own shoulder. “Does it have meaning to you?”

Fen flushed. Had he been the one who’d removed her bloody clothes? But she was not going to think about that, about him touching her, seeing her naked. Nope, nope, definitely not thinking about that.

“I apologize,” he murmured, dipping his head. “I had no intention of causing you embarrassment.”

“It’s fine,” she said stiffly, not sure whether he was referring to the present moment or the morning. “No big.”

“Most of our attention was directed to Luken at the time.”

“That’s, yes…” Fen looked away, her cheeks cooling. Luken. That must be his brother’s name. Should she apologize for almost getting him killed? No, Kaio wasn’t the one she owed an apology. “That’s understandable.” She lifted her own hand to her shoulder, brushing it against her neck. “My tattoo, this tattoo, is a phoenix.”

“And its meaning to you?”

“It’s nothing. It’s cheesy, really.” She actually loved her tattoo, the elegance and grace of the outspread wings on the fiery bird. But this guy didn’t seem like the tattoo type and she didn’t want to continue embarrassing herself in front of him.

“It’s quite lovely,” Kaio said. “And a beautiful symbol. Rebirth and renewal, new life rising out of darkness. An interesting choice, though, for one so young.”

“One so young?” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. He couldn’t be more than early thirties himself, maybe even late twenties. “I’m twenty-one, grandpa. Old enough.”

He blinked at her, his dark lashes dropping over his bright eyes, before he said, “Of course.”

She couldn’t detect any trace of a smile on his face, but the words felt somehow mocking anyway. “And how old are you?”

“Old enough.” Now the amusement was clear.

Coat Not Needed

Fen scowled at him, but before she could respond, one of the medical attendants interrupted them.

“Sir?” the man said. “Luke is awake and asking to meet the young lady. May she come back and visit with him?”

Kaio looked at her but Fen was already unfastening her seatbelt, more easily than the first time she’d tried, and standing. She needed to thank Luke or Luken, whatever his name was, and she didn’t mind the chance to get away from his uncomfortable brother.

Fen followed the attendant the few short steps down the aisle, past a row of seats, and paused by the stretcher. She crouched, avoiding the dripping IV line and other, more mysterious, equipment.

“Hey,” she said.

Up close and with time to look, he was older than she’d thought, at least sixteen or seventeen.

“Hey,” he whispered back. “You’re alive. I’m glad.”

“Ditto.” Fen laughed shakily.

His eyes, a greenish brown, reminded her of her hallucination, of the green blood she’d seen dripping from between his fingers, and her eyes drifted to his chest. He was bandaged, covered in blankets, no bloody traces showing. But of course it was the drugs she’d been on and the lack of light in the alley that made his blood appear green anyway. “There was a lot of blood. I didn’t think either of us was going to make it.”

His hand fluttered toward his torso. “I should have been more careful.”

“Probably, yeah. Not a great idea to confront the guy with the gun.”

“No.” A faint smile crossed his face. His eyes were still focused on hers, his look intent.

“Next time, try 911.”

“911?” he asked.

“Emergency services? The people who send the cops and the ambulances?”

“Ah.” His eyelids dropped. Where was he from that he didn’t know what 911 was? His English was perfect, not even the hint of an accent his brother had. “I’ll do that in the future.”

“Are you planning to make a habit out of rescuing girls in trouble?” Fen said, keeping her voice light. “Shouldn’t you have learned your lesson?”

His eyes opened again, and he looked startled. “I could do no less. When you called me, I would not have failed to answer.”

“Called you?” What was he talking about? She hadn’t screamed. She’d wanted to. If she’d thought anyone would hear her, she would have. But she hadn’t.

“You should sleep now, Luken.” Kaio’s voice interrupted them, and Fen started. She hadn’t heard him come up behind them, but there he was, hovering over her shoulder, a faint frown of disapproval woven across his forehead. “You need your rest. You’ll have plenty of opportunity to talk later.”

She glanced back at his brother. The younger man was frowning, too, but he looked more confused than disapproving. “All right.” But as Fen moved to rise, he put out a hand to stop her. “Wait. What’s your name?”

“Fen.”

He repeated the name, as if testing it and liking the sound of it. “Fen.” He let his hand drop. A smile played around his lips. “Nice name.”

“Thank you,” Fen said. Was he flirting with her from his hospital bed? Shouldn’t he be a little young for that? “And you? Are you Luke or Luken?”