Authors: Kaye Thornbrugh
“What about you, Lee?” Filo asked, glancing up at her.
“I don’t have any good ones.”
Filo
gave her a look of pure incredulity. “Sure
you do. Everyone does.”
In his world, she thought, everyone did.
“Sorry, but no.”
Biting his lip thoughtfully, Jason said, “Hey, Filo—why don’t
you
tell us a story?
Not a job story. A real one, like you do.
”
At that, Filo squirmed a little. “I haven’t done one like that in years.
Not since before you left.
I’m probably rusty.
”
Nasser snorted
. “Magic doesn’t get rusty, Filo. Come on.
We’ve missed your stories, and Lee’s never gotten to hear one.”
“Salt and sage. All right.” Filo
sighed and
downed the rest
of his tea
. Clasping his hands together, he asked, “What do you want to hear?”
“Tell us
one about
Coyote,” Jason piped
, leaning back.
“He’s the best.”
Filo considered the request. “How about the one where Coyote and Eagle visit the land of the dead?”
“Sounds depressing,” Lee said.
Beside her, Nasser moved
closer, and she found herself
instinctively
settling against him, leaning her head
on
his shoulder.
Filo
wrinkled his nose
. “
Don’t be so picky
. How about Coyote and the river monster?”
She smiled. “That’s more like it.”
“Do you know much about Coyote?” Filo asked. When she shook her head, he began, “
Well,
Coyote is a trickster
. He’s the cleverest of all the animal people, and he
has
many special powers. Coyote likes to play mean tricks for his own amusement, and he often acts selfishly. But for all his faults, Coyote can also be very helpful, and he’s done many great things
. Now, a long, long time ago, Coyote learned that a river monster was eating all the animal people.
…
”
As
Filo continued his story, his
whole demeanor changed.
Lee had never seen him so animated, like something had lit up inside him.
His voice was filled with subtle nuances,
moving up and down like music. His
impersonations of the characters were vivid, complete with different voices, expressions and gestures:
A tilt of the head and a careless smirk told Lee more about Coyote’s personality than any verbal description could. The overall effect was hypnotic; Lee was drawn fully into his tale.
Maybe that was why she hardly noticed when Nasser slid his arm around her waist—of course, that might’ve been because he did it so casually, like he’d done it a hundred times. It felt
wonderfully
right
to be in the circle of his arm.
When Filo mimed sawing at the heartstrings of the river monster with a knife, discarding each blade as it broke, both his voice and his movements
took a note of urgency, and all three of them
tensed in anticipation.
At last, the story
ended and the spell was broken. N
o longer caught in the snare of the tale,
Lee
gave a low whistle.
“Not bad,” she said
. Suddenly she remembered
that, while
Lee’s sketched and Jason’s played music, Filo’s magic told stories. “Not bad at all.”
That earned her a small smile. “Guess I’m not so rusty after all.”
“Tell us another,” she insisted
.
He sighed, but the s
mile didn’t disappear. “
What do you want to hear?”
* * *
Camped out on the floor beneath a window, surrounded by sheets of paper and supplies, Lee sketched. Sitting nearby, Nasser observed her as he leafed
through a book
. After five days, his vision was finally completely clear, and he reveled in the gift of vision, taking in everything he saw with reverence: the way the mid-morning sun lit up her hair; the way she tilted her head and pressed her lips together as she drew. Now even text on a page seemed special, a sight to behold.
“What are you talking about?” Lee asked, picking up a
violet
pencil. “The man takes care of two-thirds of the world, all by himself. He gets no credit.”
“I’m not saying he doesn’t contribute,” Nasser replied. “He’s just very limited. The ocean just doesn’t have as much trouble to deal with as the rest of the world.”
“Oh, please. Name one respectable super villain that doesn’t have a giant submarine or a secret underwater lair.”
“Like he could do anything about either one. He talks to fish and he waves around a trident. That’s it.”
“I’d like to see
you
command an undersea army.”
“
Filo
could do that. He once had a whole conversation with a lobster.”
Sighing, Lee shook her head. “Some people just don’t appreciate all th
e hard work that Aquaman does
to keep the world safe.”
He laughed. She went back to drawing, and he returned to his book. Neither spoke. It was strange: With other girls, Nasser always felt slightly on-edge, and he never knew what to say. But he didn’t feel that way with Lee. In fact, he’d never felt like this with anyone.
When he was with Lee, he felt completely at ease. Conversation was
natural
, and so was silence. He didn’t have to worry about saying the right thing, because he felt like she would listen to anything he had to say, and value it. He’d even told her
about his parents—who
he hadn’t talked about
with anyone, not even Jason,
in a
long time—and all the while, he’d felt calm, like he was telling a story to someone he’d known all his life, instead of a girl he’d known just a few weeks. He trusted her.
“Nasser,” she began after a while, looking up at him. Her expression was more serious now. “Does it ever get better?”
He knew what she was asking, but he wasn’t sure what to tell her.
“It takes a long time,” he told her finally, leaving his chair to join her in her square of sunlight. “But it does get better. You get used to things. You start to like yourself a little more, and feel less guilty. You stop thinking about what happened to you all the time, and it stops controlling your life. And then one day, you realize that the good things that came out of whatever happened actually outweigh the bad. And that’s when it really starts to get better.”
“What kinds of good things?”
“
If what happened to me hadn’t happen
ed, I would’ve spent
my life thinking I was insane. I never would’ve been able to help all the people I’ve worked for. And,” he added cautiously, “I never would’ve met you.”
For a long moment, she didn’t speak. At length, she admitted, “Right now, I can’t really think of many good things that came out of what happened to me. I lost my mom and my best friend. I lost my whole life. It’s good to know what I am, I guess, and what I can really do. But learning magic doesn’t make me feel any better.”
Slowly she reached out and laid her hand on his. “But,” she continued. “You do. You’re the only thing that does. Being around you makes everything seem better.”
She opened her sketchbook, carefully tore out
several
page
s
and handed them to Nasser
—three detailed color sketches of
three
flowers. Leafing through the pages, he translated the message. A petunia:
Your presence soothes me.
A peppermint flower:
warmth of feeling.
And heartsease, the flower he’d
given
her so many times before.
You occupy my thoughts.
“I’ve been doing a lot of reading,” Lee said
quietly
, setting
her sketchbook aside
. “
You’re not the only one who knows what flowers mean.”
Before he could think to stop himself,
Nasser
bent his head and kissed her. It was a brief and simple kiss: just the soft brush of his lips on hers, only lasting a moment. When he pulled away, she was looking up at him, her eyes a bit wider, her lips parted slightly
.
Smiling bemusedly, she
drew h
im closer. “You
know,” she murmured,
“you
didn’t have to wait so long.”
Then she kissed him
—a long, slow, bone-melting kiss that made all the nerves crowding his chest evaporate.
One kiss
eased
into the next, and the world seemed to shrink steadily until it was just the two of them beneath the window, and the sunlight warming their faces.
Duck and Run
“How much longer, Nasser?” Filo asked, squinting out the window in the front room. Though the rain had tapered off to a drizzle, everything was filtered through the silvery mist that had settled over the city.
“Not much,” Nasser reported. “The worst of the rain has already moved out. But we’ll be getting some snow in the next couple days. It’s coming from the north.”
“A little snow’s better than a lot of rain.” Filo returned his attention to the window. The sound of guitar strings being plucked was audible from the workroom. Lee was in there, too, no doubt working on some new sketch.
As he gazed at the people down below, Filo imagined how it would feel to taste the air again, to run,
to
breathe
, even on such a cold November afternoon. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been cooped up inside for so long. He hardly knew what to do with himself anymore.
To make matters worse
,
Filo’s magic had been building steadily, and was now growing uncomfortable, itchy. He could feel it moving through his blood. Something
had to be done
. Though it didn’t happen often, Filo’s magic was still capable of seizing control of his body when
too much accumulated
.
He nee
ded to release it
soon.
A curiously familiar
figure caught Filo’s eye:
a tall, slender man in a dark overcoat. A slim, elegant tail flicked around his legs as he strode up the sidewalk. The man paused briefly in front of the shop, glanced up with golden
cat
eyes.
Filo’s hands clenched into tight fists; immediately he felt the familiar prickling warmth of magic building in his palms. Even that tiny release alleviated some of the tension in his arms and shoulders, some of the itchiness crawling beneath his skin like insects. But that wouldn’t be enough. Not even close.
All in a ru
sh, he remembered Samhain
: hustling to the school after reading Rodney’s note; fighting boggarts in the dark; stumbling through a labyrinth of hallways and streetlamps.
And all because Rodney thought it would make a good prank.
Fury ignited in his guts. All his muscles seemed to clench simultaneously.
“Filo?” Nasser’s eyes were
on him now, narrow and worried.
Filo
shook his head. There was no time
to
explain
. “I have to go.”
He jerked on his coat, jammed his feet
into his
work boots, and rushed toward the door.
“Wait—”
Nasser started
. “What are you—?”
But Filo was already halfway down the stairs
.
* * *
Frigid air stung
Filo’s
fa
ce like chips of glass as
he
broke into a run. Several blocks
fell away beneath his feet. He found himself
on a mi
sty street, a
solitary figure up ahead. Rodney.
Rodney ducked into an alley up ahead, between two old redbrick buildings. When Filo turned into the alley, Rodney was waiting for him, leaning against the wall.
“I see you’re a bit worse for wear after
Samhain
,” Rodney commented. His gaze lingered on the cuts and bruises left on Filo’s face, the worst of which still hadn’t healed entirely.
“How did it go with the boggarts?”
Without thinking, Filo seized Rodney’s shoulders and shoved him against the bricks. “You bastard. I ought to kill you.”