Flicker (51 page)

“Right,” she acknowledged. “But—”

“None of that,” he interrupted. His face was very close to hers. Their foreheads almost touched. “I’ve never asked you for anything, Alice. Ever. So do this one thing for me. Please?”

She ducked her head. “Fine.”

* * *

Someone was whispering, and Filo didn’t care who. He was half-asleep already, and had no intention of rousing himself before the strike of
four
, when they had to start preparing to leave if they wanted to reach Summerhill by sunrise
.

“Filo. Filo, wake up.”

“Leave me alone,” he muttered.

“Filo.
Please
.”

Filo groaned and rolled onto his back. He cracked one eye open. Alice was bent over him, her hair mussed with restless sleep, wearing a wrinkled, oversized tank top
. The strap of the top hung
below her shoulder on one side
, and he could see her bra strap—dark blue—as well as
her prominent collarbone and
the sharp bones of her shoulder. She was so thin.

“What time is it?” he asked groggily.

“Midnight.”

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“So?”

Alice hesitated. She bit her lip. “Can I sleep with you?”

He squinted at her. The question was familiar, one that had been asked and answered many times. Before she left, whenever Alice had been upset or frightened, she had come to him, seeking assurance. She had treated him like a security blanket or a stuffed animal, and he had accepted it without question, because Alice was his sister in every way that mattered, and that was the sort of things that good brothers did. He’d wanted to be a good brother for her. He’d wanted to take care of her. He still did.

“You know you’re way too old for this, right?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

Filo sighed, then moved over. “As long as you know.”

Alice let out a soft breath and lay down beside h
im,
her back against his chest. Her presence was strangely comforting, and Filo thought that if he closed his eyes, he could pretend that none of this had ever happened.
That she was home. That
they were
all
home.

“Thank you, Filo,” she whispered.

“Shhh
,” Filo murmured, into her hair. She smelled like rain. “Go to sleep.”

* * *

When four o’clock rolled around, Lee was the first awake. She sat up slowly, looking blearily around the dim bedroom. Nasser lay close to the edge of his bed, the sheets tangled around his legs, as if he had slept fitfully. Alice was nowhere to be seen.

When Lee crept through the front room on her way to the bathroom, she paused. Alice, she saw now, was sharing Filo’s bed. They were both asleep. Alice’s head rested on Filo’s chest
, her
slender arm draped across him, her hand bunched lightly in the fabric of his shirt
. He had one arm wrapped around her.

Slightly
surprised
, Lee padded into the kitchen. After lighting several candles, she surveyed the food left in the cupboards and
icebox
, figuring they should eat before they left
.

Not long after she had begun cracking eggs into a bowl and whisking them with a fork, Alice appeared in the doorway, already dressed. Lee heard no movement in the front room. Alice had apparently managed to wriggle out from under Filo’s arm without waking him.

“Morning,” Alice yawned, running a hand through her hair and noticing the bowl Lee was busily stirring. “Can I help you with that?”

“Could you grab me a pan?”

“Sure.” The other girl stooped and opened a cupboard beneath the counter, finding large pan. Alice seemed so comfortable in the apartment—not like someone who’d been away for over a year, but like someone who’d never left. “Will this work?”

Lee nodded. “Thanks.”
She paused, then glanced up.
“Hey, Alice?”

“Yeah?”

“You an
d Filo. Are you
…
?”

“Are we what?”

“You know. Together.”

For a moment, Alice seemed puzzled. “Together?” she repeated, as if she’d never heard the word before. “No. Why would you ask something like that?”

“Well
…
you were sleeping in
his
bed. I thought maybe you were—”

“We’re not,” Alice said, too quickly. A riotous blush was spreading over her cheeks. “I mean, we grew up together. We’re close, yeah, but we’re not
…
together
.”

“Just because you’re not doesn’t mean you don’t want to be,” Lee said
gingerly
, not quite looking at Alice as she tilted the eggs around in the sizzling pan. “You look at him like he’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever seen, but only when he’s looking the other way.”

Alice didn’t speak for a long time. “He doesn’t know, Lee,” she admitted finally. “He has no idea. Don’t you dare tell him.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Lee promised.
“
But maybe you should.”

“That would never work.”

“H
e
obviously
cares about you,” Lee pointed out. “Why wouldn’t it work?”

“Filo’s not inter
ested in me that way,” Alice insisted, her voice stiff.
“
Not at all. And as long as he’s not interested, neither am I.
Got it?
”

“But—”

“Lee. Drop it. Please.”

Lee swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Silence. Lee poked at the eggs and dumped them onto a plate.

“You know
,
” Alice said
. “You and Nasser look at each other the same way.”

Then, as
if summoned by the mention of his name, Nasser wandered into the kitchen. His hair was a rumpled mess.

“I smelled food,” he said plainly.

Lee shook her head, laughing, and gestured toward the plate. “Have at it.”

“Thanks.” He grabbed several plates and began splitting up the pile of scrambled eggs between them. While he did, Alice slipped quietly out of the kitchen.

Lee
studied
Nasser
for a long moment. He lo
oked tired yet
resolved. When he offered a plate to her and she stepped forward to take it, she was surprised when he set the plat
e aside, bent his head
and kissed her
with his mouth open
.
She kissed him back, winding her arms around his neck.

After a minute, she pulled gently away. “What was that for?”

There was sadness in his eyes now, in addition to weariness. “Just in case.”

* * *

Filo was changing in the fron
t room when Alice crept
in. He gave her a nod of acknowledgement as she
perched on the edge of the bed. She looked away while he changed his shirt.

“I need to tell you something, Filo
,” Alice said slowly and carefully.
“
About Nasser. I probably should’ve told you a long time ago.”

Her tone made him uneasy. “What?”

“Do you remember two winters ago, when
you got so sick?
It was January.
”

“Sort of,” he said. “
I
remember going to the cemetery to clear out the redcaps. I spent the night trying to run them off. I was covered in cuts and bites.”

Alice squirmed a little. “Do you remember what happened after that?”

“I got back before dawn. You helped me
clean the wounds, and I went to bed
. The next thing I remember is waking up a few days later, and you telling me
that
I’d been sick.”

She nodded. “You
were
sick. Sick enough to forget most of what happened. It was partly my fault, I think.”

“What are you talking about?” He sat down beside her.

“I forgot that redcaps have toxin in their claws and teeth,” she explaine
d. “I cleaned the wounds like
any injury, but that had no effect on the toxin.”

“Redcap toxin is mild. It causes irritation, that’s all.”

“Not when you’re cut that many times, and don’t treat them properly. That much toxin makes you sick.”

“It’s not
your fault
,
” he
protested. “I forgot, too.” But as
he spoke,
fragments of a memory tugged at him
:
the
washed-out light in the cramped
bath
room;
shivering so violently that Alice had to
help him change into dry clothes;
burning skin and aching bones. He hadn’t been in much of a position to remember anything.

Alice sighed
. “A
fter you’d gotten cleaned up, you slept for a few hours
. You had
a fever. It seemed no
rmal enough. But the next
morning
, you couldn’t keep anything down. I figured you had the flu or something, so I ran deliveries alone.
When I got back, I found you on the floor
, unconscious. Your fever was so high I could barely touch you
. Your pulse was racing. The cuts were all red and infected.”

“I don’t see what this has to do with Nasser,” Filo said dubiously.

Alice shook her head and
reached for him. “You were so sick, Filo,” sh
e whispered, squeezing his hands
. “I thought you were going to die. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“What
did
you do?”

“I sent a message to Na
sser. I told him what happened and I begged him to come
back to Flicker
.”

Filo gaped at her. “
Alice!
”

“I didn’t know how to help you,” she said miserably. “Nasser did.”

“
Alice
,” he repeated, shaking his head in confusion.

“He looked after you for three days,” Alice continued. “Until your fever broke, and he was sure you’d be okay. You
’d been delirious
, and you were asleep when he left, so when you woke up and asked me what happened
…
I lied.”

“Why?”

“I thought you would be angry with me for a
sking Nasser back
.”

“But—
Nem
and
Morgan
—”

“They knew. But
they
were away the whole time, and
I think they realized it wasn’t Nasser’s fault. Once I contacted him, there was no way he could keep himself away. So they only punished me.” She drew away from him and
showed
him the faint burn scars on her palms
.
“
I told you I did this by accident. But I didn’t.”

Filo
stared
. “Why are you telling me now
? After all this time?”

“Because,” she sighed. “You’re doing something really dangerous today, Filo. And if something goes wrong, I want you to know what happened, so you won’t hate Nasser anymore.”

He blinked. “But what makes you think—”

“I didn’t understand then,” she said. “I thought you were just angry with him for leaving us. But I get it now. You weren’t angry because he left. You were angry because he
never came back
. Isn’t that right?”

It was. But he wasn’t sure he could tell her.

“You thought he just dropped us and never looked back,” she continued gently. “Like we weren’t important to him. Like he didn’t care. But he always cared about us, Filo. And he
did
come back. And I thought that if you knew it, you could forgive him.”

He was silent for a long time. Then he admitted, his voice low and quiet, “I never hated him. I couldn’t.”

A small smile touched her mouth. “Don’t tell me. Tell him.”

Then Alice grabbed him in a tight, fierce h
ug. She was so small
,
he thought,
but the
re was such strength in her arms, in her heart
. She buri
ed her face
against
his shoulder.
“I
swear
, Filo, if
you let anything happen to you
, I’ll
never
forgive you.”