Infinite Risk (25 page)

He sighed. “It's from my ex. I've told him it's over repeatedly, but I guess it's just not sinking in.”

“Breaking up sucks,” I said, determinedly
not
watching Kian.

The rest of the day went at a crawl. Everywhere I looked, there were happy couples, starting something or celebrating the continuation of it. After school, Vonna and Kian left the building hand in hand. I ambled out five minutes later to find the Harbinger waiting for me.
Right, I promised him today. Wonder what's happening.

He seized my hand like it was his and led me away from half a dozen milling students. Instead of whooshing through space, however, he took me to the bus stop. I raised a brow. He carried his violin case, and something about his expression troubled me.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Not really.”

“Did something happen?”

“It's more what
will
happen,” he said softly. “But I'm determined not to think about that. Today is ours, you promised.”

“So I did.” I stared at our joined hands.

He tugged me onto the next bus. I didn't recognize the route number, and it delivered us to the main terminal, where we got on another. Good and lost, I sat next to the Harbinger watching Cross Point stream past. Ten stops later, we hopped off across the street from an upscale shopping plaza. The streets were busier here, and people hurried into the mall to get out of the unseasonable cold. By now, the snow on the ground should be a slushy mess, paving the way for spring, but Wedderburn had a choke hold on this city, so it still looked like a greeting card that could be called Winter Wonderland.

“Why are we here?” I asked.

He ignored the question, setting up near an outdoor heater operated by a restaurant with a terrace for smokers. Behind him, a fountain hissed and shimmered, jetting icy water into the air. It was kind of miraculous that it didn't freeze. When he brought out his violin, I heard a woman say, “Oh my God, he's back.”

Attracting an audience should've been impossible in this weather, but as soon as the Harbinger started to play, people flocked to him like moths to a flame. I had to admit, his sound was exquisite, a sort of aural ravishment. His arm moved with the purest passion I'd seen in him, drawing an ardent wail from his violin. I didn't recognize the song, but it didn't matter. Money dropped into his case, not just coins, but wads of bills. Five songs later, I was nearly frozen, but I didn't even care. If I died while listening to him, it would be worth it.

The Harbinger finally spoke, drawing an audible sigh from his enthralled audience. “I have a special treat for you this evening.”

“What is it?” someone asked.

“I brought my lady to sing.”

Excuse me?
My eyes widened as I jolted from the near trance his music had put me in. Shaking my head frantically, I resisted as he pulled me to the center of the crowd. The Harbinger leaned his head against mine and whispered, “You promised.”

True. I did.

Even if I had no talent, I should comply with this odd request and count myself lucky he wasn't asking anything worse.
What's a little public humiliation between friends?
The Harbinger cupped my face in his hands and stared into my eyes so long that I suspected he was trying to hypnotize me. Apparently the audience agreed, because a guy shouted, “Kiss her already.”

My breath hitched. “I'll sing. Let's do this.”

He played the opening bars of “Danny Boy,” and while I'd heard the song, primarily in old movies, I didn't know the words by heart. Except … I did. And the voice that came out of my mouth didn't sound like me: husky, beautifully on pitch, and rich with emotion. The crowd quieted as if the punishment for interruption was death. Though the Harbinger hadn't gone over the program with me, I knew every song he played. The strangeness of it made me shiver, but I sang on, like that cursed girl who couldn't take her dancing shoes off.

An hour or so later, he played the final bars, and we received thunderous applause from the crowd that was closer to a mob. As shivers took me, I noticed that mall security guards had come out, but nobody had attempted to disturb us. He packed up while I trembled, and the audience parted like the Red Sea to let us pass. They didn't disperse until the Harbinger went into the restaurant nearby. Inside, it was blissfully warm. The hostess didn't ask if we had a reservation despite the people waiting. She just led him to a table for two near the back. Valentine's Day decorations gave the place a cheerful, romantic air, aided by the warm lighting.

“I don't understand what just happened,” I said.

But as the Harbinger shrugged out of his jacket, I could tell that he looked better. There was color in his cheeks for once, and he looked as close to human as I'd ever seen. Even in his Colin guise, there was a certain warmth he couldn't muster.
Does that mean…?

“That's how I've been feeding,” he said softly. “Taking only the admiration that's freely given, nothing they wouldn't offer any talented musician. I haven't played in a hundred years, but for you, I broke an old promise.”

“Excuse me?”

“When Saiorse died, I swore I wouldn't make music without her. I wanted you to know how important you've become to me.”

“Is this a … declaration?” I couldn't decide how to feel or react.

The waitress came over then, interrupting the moment. “Can I get you started with something to drink?”

“Hot chocolate for me,” I said, though I was cold, not thirsty.

“Black tea.” When the Harbinger smiled, I feared the girl might pass out.

Somehow she rallied. “Coming right up.”

He went on as if we hadn't been interrupted. “Not in the usual sense. I thought it might reassure you to know I've turned over a new leaf. Well … as much as I can. I've had periods of peaceful benevolence before.”

But then your nature overwhelms your good intentions.
I understood that he didn't want to cause pain; rather, it was a compulsion, a sickness, even. Tenderness welled up in me as I gazed at him through a flicker of candlelight. How could a creature so old be interested in me? On any level. The mystery didn't clarify, no matter how I considered it.

“What are we doing tonight?” I asked.

“This is your gift to me … no questions. I've asked for tonight, I will explain nothing. Can you offer this much, dearling?”

“Of course.”

We ate dinner together like any normal couple. I hadn't even known the Harbinger could eat. I didn't taste much, but the warmth slowly seeped into my frozen bones. He fed me bites of chocolate cake with an inexplicable sorrow building in his eyes. Curiosity tried to chew its way out of my sternum, but I'd promised to let him be, just for tonight. Maybe this was a sort of macabre anniversary, and he didn't want to be alone. Though I knew Saiorse had died of natural causes, I had no idea what day. If she'd passed on February 14, it seemed beyond cruel.

I mean, losing someone you love on Valentine's? Too far, universe. Too far.

Maybe busking was what he used to do with her, and he just needed me to be her stand-in. That possibility didn't thrill me. Yet I contained all the questions, finishing the meal with a hot cup of tea. The Harbinger paid for our meals with some of the bills we'd collected singing outside. A bit later, we emerged to the strobing lights of the fountain, bathing everything red, then blue and green. The shifting colors lent his countenance a melancholy elegance.

“Will you stay the night?” he asked.

I nodded. It seemed highly improbable that he was asking for sex. While immortals definitely had libidos, dependent on their stories, he didn't need me for that. This seemed like a deeper question, and even if I hadn't promised him my time and understanding, I couldn't leave him alone.
Fragile
was an odd word, but it fit him tonight.

He took me to a small studio apartment, much nicer than my room at the Baltimore. The place was clean and modern, a renovated unit in a historical building. The walls were painted a sunny shade of cream, warming the space even without the brick statement wall. From the dark leather furniture to the Murphy bed, everything had its place. This area could be called gentrified, lots of restoration in progress. There was an organic market up the street, such a contrast from the bodega, but I preferred José and Luisa's store. Since I'd imagined he popped in and out from his moldering mansion on the New England coast, this was quite a revelation.

“Do you like it?”

“Definitely. The breakfast bar is nice.” There was no need for a table, as the counter space could double as an eating area.

Not that he needs to worry about that.

“It's yours,” he said simply, proffering a key. “That is, if you decide to stay.”

I stared at the ridged brass implement. “With you?”

With a sad half smile, he shook his head. “I won't ask that. Soon, we will have an important conversation. I suspect I already know your answer.”

“What—” I cut myself off before I could frame the inquiry.

You promised, no questions.

“You have more self-control than most, but you're ridiculously easy to read. No, I didn't devise this to torment you. I just ask that you contain that curiosity for tonight.”

“I can do that. But … you make it sound like you're leaving.”

“That's a question in the form of a statement.” He opened his violin case and counted the cash remaining, a couple hundred dollars. “I want you to have this. Since you were with me when I earned it, you can't doubt where it came from.”

Why
burbled on the tip of my tongue as I accepted the money, tucking it into my backpack. If he truly meant for me to live here, things would be a lot easier. The building was secure, no creepy clerk watching my every move, no threat of home invasion from the rusty fire escape. Before, I might not have believed he'd offer such generosity without strings. Now I trusted him, and the more he warned me not to, the more my faith stretched.

“Thanks. But … this feels more and more like loose ends wrapping up.”

“You're too clever for your own good.” Which was not exactly a convincing denial.

I ached with unspoken curiosity laced with concern. He had refused to leave more than once.
So what happened? What's changed? Or maybe—

The Harbinger traced cool fingers down my cheek, as if he could memorize me. “Don't. Let's pretend there is no tomorrow. You promised me tonight, and I'll hoard every last second.”

“Okay,” I said.

Anyone else might have kissed me then, but he was closed and odd, none of his usual excess. I sat beside him on the sofa and didn't wait for him to pull me close. The way I nestled made his eyes widen, but he put his arm around my shoulders. His embrace held a familiar weight now, and I sighed as I tipped my head against his shoulder.

“You loved her.” Not a deal breaker, not a question—I knew.

He didn't ask who I meant. That would be disingenuous. “The heart is a house with many chambers. She was one of many.”

Phantom pain flared again, hot spots all over my body, and as if he felt it, he held me closer; I closed my eyes against the inexorable pull of morning.

 

NORMAL IS A TOURIST TOWN

A week after the weirdest Valentine's Day ever, Devon used a carrot stick like a laser pointer, aiming it around the table for emphasis. “We should try another meet-up, this time without the hallucinogenic roofies.”

Carmen nodded. “Sounds fun.”

“Everyone free tonight?” Vonna asked.

The best part of hanging around with freshmen and sophomores? Few of them had part-time jobs. In another year that would change, cutting into the time the group had for another. By graduation, they'd probably be ships passing in the night, and once everyone split for college—I checked the depressing thought. It wasn't like these were my friends; this was Kian's life, and I was only auditing for a while.

“I can't,” Amanda said.

“Hot date?” Nathan poked her.

I kind of suspected he had a crush, based on how he treated her. Ignoring that, she shook her head. “Grandma's birthday party. Have fun for me too.”

Everyone else could show up, though, and we agreed to hang out at Carmen's, whose place had a big basement with a TV in it. The address she texted wasn't that far from my new apartment. I'd moved into the studio two days before, not like that was a huge endeavor, as everything I owned fit easily in the used backpack I'd picked up at the House of Style. There was no question that the cash the Harbinger had donated would make my remaining time here easier.

“Be there around seven,” Carmen added. “My mom works the night shift as a nurse, so she'll be up by then. She leaves the house at like ten.”

“Wow, that's rough,” Devon said.

Carmen made a face. “Sort of. It means I'm in charge of the house while she's out, so my brothers and sisters might pester us, if they're not asleep.”

Kian smiled. “We'll survive.”

“I can't wait. I'll bring some awesome DVDs.” Nathan seemed eager to handle that, but I wondered if his choices would entertain everyone else.

Still, when was the last time I'd enjoyed a simple movie night with friends? Honestly I couldn't remember, unless you counted the nights at Kian's place, but even then, it wasn't a big group. With Selena looking out for me from the shadows, it should be safe for me to go.

“You look excited,” Devon said.

“Maybe.”

“Trust me, Carmen's family room isn't that thrilling.”

“I heard that.” She frowned at him from a few seats down the table.

Smiling, I let the conversation flow over me. The rest of the school day doddered by like an elderly couple. Despite less than stellar attendance and little effort, I had a B average in all my classes, nothing to alarm the teachers. After the day ended, I headed out to my stop. I still wasn't used to boarding the new bus, and I'd gotten a surprise when I realized Kian lived farther along the new route. He climbed on after me and slid into a window seat. I plopped down beside him, rationalizing,
Better me than a stranger.