The Hawkweed Prophecy (20 page)

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY

E
mber wasn't used to her dreams coming true, but she had dreamt of Leo and there he was. Not just a figment but real flesh and blood. He was standing in her dell, looking like he belonged there, rummaging for bits and pieces like he knew the place. She watched him for a while like she would a rare bird or butterfly, feeling blessed simply to have spotted him, committing to memory the feeling of having him there just in case he never passed this way again. Fearful of disturbing him, she didn't make a sound. She worried Leo would leave if he knew she was there, but at the same time, she longed for him to notice her. Ember knew she should call out to Leo, but the longer she left it to announce her presence, the harder it became. If she tried to speak, she wasn't sure she'd find her voice.

And then he turned and Ember smiled. Her lips moved of their own accord, and the joy they revealed was beyond her control to contain. She realized then, with a sense of abandon, she didn't want to contain it. She wanted Leo to know, to feel, how
happy she was. She didn't want to hide in the shadows and watch. She wanted to talk to him and touch him.

He said her name. “Ember.”

He said it warmly without question or expectation. She felt like hurtling toward him and jumping into his arms, but her legs moved slowly and nervously so she had to concentrate just to reach him. She grinned up at him, looking so intently into his eyes that she could see her own reflection there.

“Where's Poppy?” she asked, her pupils still fixed on his.

“It's just me,” he answered with a bashful smile.

Just me. Ember nearly laughed out loud. A tiny, faraway part of her felt sorry she could so blithely forsake her friend, but she was too full of glee to feel any remorse.

“Are you looking for more things to sell?” Her voice sounded faint in her ears, but Leo seemed to hear her well enough and he nodded in reply.

“Metal, mainly.”

“I can help you if you like.”

Together they mined the dell for anything Leo considered valuable. It wasn't the things she would have chosen. Not the books, or pictures, or pieces of china. Though she was glad he didn't take those, for she had always hoped one day to have a home of her own in which to keep them.

An hour passed quickly and soon Leo had a stack of metal to carry home with him. He said he was thirsty and Ember took him to the river. It felt like a miracle to have him by her side, walking next to her along the path she'd trod all her life alone. She kept looking straight ahead, but she could hear his footsteps next to her own lighter ones. She could feel his closeness.
Without letting herself hesitate, she slipped her hand into his own.

“Cold,” he said, and he held it tight as they walked. His hand was rough and calloused, and hers, which she always considered big, felt so small and soft within it, despite all the hours of laundry she'd been doing in the camp, working sometimes until her hands were raw.

At the river Ember watched as Leo cupped the freezing water into his mouth and how it ran like tears down his chin and neck. No woman's neck was like that, and she stared at the lump inside the front of it that rose and fell as he gulped the water down. She washed her muddy hands with the new soap she'd made, then handed it to him. He brought it to his nose and inhaled, shutting his eyes as he did so.

“Lavender,” he said.

He was right, and by knowing that one detail, it was as though he knew the whole of her.

Then he scrubbed his hands and she watched them rub and intertwine and clasp, then plunge into the water. A shiver ran through her.

They sat on the rocks and she handed him some walnuts from her pocket, and they cracked them on the stone and delved inside the shells to pick out the kernels.

“They're good,” he said, and she handed him another.

“Do you like jam? Next time I can bring you some. What fruit do you prefer? I have apricot, or raspberry, or greengage?”

“You make it?” he asked without answering her.

“Of course,” she said. “There aren't any stores where I come from.”

“Poppy told me not to ask.” And with her name spoken out loud, the mood changed. Leo got to his feet but then reached out his hand and helped Ember up. Then he released her. She wasn't sure why.

They didn't hold hands as they wandered back to the dell, but Leo didn't rush and Ember was grateful that he talked and his words filled the silence.

“I don't have a proper home either, you know. I live on the streets. Doorways, benches. There are stores, but I don't have money to buy anything from them. I get what they throw out.” Leo shrugged.

“You should have a caravan,” Ember replied practically. “And a vegetable garden.”

He laughed at her simplicity. “I should.”

“It must be cold.”

“It is. Especially the nights.” And he shivered, perhaps at the memory or maybe at the gust of wind that whistled past. Ember reached into her bag and got the scarf she'd been knitting for her mother. It was almost done. She took her needles and swiftly completed two more rows before binding them off.

“Impressive,” he said, and she glanced to see if he was laughing at her.

He wasn't, and she felt herself blush. Without looking him in the eye, she stood on tiptoes to wrap the scarf around his neck.

“For you,” she murmured shyly.

Leo looked taken aback, and Ember suddenly worried she'd done the wrong thing without realizing it.

“I can't take it.” His voice was different, awkward.

“Please, it's to keep you warm. I can make another.”

Ember looked at Leo now and she saw how sad and troubled his eyes were and it made her own well up.

“Don't,” he muttered. “Don't feel sorry for me.”

“I'm not sorry for you!” she exclaimed. “Why, I'm jealous of you. I wish I were you. I mean,” she said more hesitantly, “I wish I could come with you.”

Ember watched Leo's face fervently, waiting to see if she'd said too much. His features slowly cracked, then softened.

“That bad, huh?” he said, and Ember realized he was talking about her own life, and she turned her head away but then looked back at him through the corners of her eyes. Leo took one end of the scarf and flipped it over his shoulder. “Thanks. It's . . . it's warm.” Then he smacked his hand onto his forehead so Ember jumped back, startled. But Leo didn't notice, for he was busy rummaging in his bag and pulling something out to show her.

“My clock,” she gasped.

“It's all fixed. Good as new.”

Ember stared at the clock now resurrected and alive, the second hand ticking its circle. She put the clock to her ear and listened to it working, the clicks like a tiny heartbeat. And then she couldn't help herself. She flung her arms over the scarf around Leo's neck and kissed him, full on the lips.

In the kitchen Poppy was pouring a potion into a vial when her hand flinched and the potion dropped with a clatter. She stood there, stunned, looking at the precious liquid staining the tiles on the floor. She couldn't move. Her chest hurt too much. Her heart
felt like it had been shattered too, all in shards, the blood seeping out of it. She breathed slowly through the pain, trying to claim it, own it.

As it eased, she felt like weeping. Not for the potion, though that had taken hours of preparation, but for another reason that she couldn't seem to drag from her subconscious and translate into thought. She glanced at the book and groaned out loud. Its pages were spattered with dark sticky blotches. Ember would be frantic. Poppy was already at fault for not visiting her, and now she had ruined the book she had sworn to look after. How would she ever gain Ember's forgiveness? The stains on the tiles came off with the strongest household cleaner. It would take something far more powerful to clean the book.

Poppy spent the next few hours trying to magic those spots away. When they finally lifted and she felt calm and could breathe properly again, that's when she saw it—the kiss. In her mind's eye, she saw how Ember's hands grasped Leo's face and how her body reached up so her lips could press against his. She saw it all in momentary increments—beat by beat, tick by tock. A second of surprise in Leo's eyes, the next second of consternation, a third of surrender, a fourth of receiving, a fifth of giving, a sixth of pleasure. Unable to watch any longer, Poppy picked up the book and hurled it across the room. It lay there wounded, just as she was, pages bent, spine cracked on the tiled ground.

Leo was doing everything he had promised himself he wouldn't. He was outside Poppy's house, trying, hoping to get a glimpse of
her. He didn't care about the balance between them anymore, that it was her turn, that she should thank him. None of that mattered now. He had to see her. Just for a moment. He didn't have any words to offer. He hardly knew what to think. Why he'd ever stayed away seemed baffling to him now, like that decision belonged to another boy with some other girl, playing a stupid game to save his pride.

Ember had kissed him and it had been a gift, a surprise, soft and sweet, and he'd felt grateful for it. It had come without the pressure of occasion, without the worry of rejection. But after, Ember's kiss made him think of another's and how that might feel. If it had been Poppy's lips on his, he would have kissed her harder, not so soft and sweet, but longer, deeper, never enough, never wanting it to end.

Leo kicked at the curb, then stared urgently at the house. He wanted to burst through the door and grab Poppy in his arms and do, right now, what he'd been imagining so vividly. But he didn't move. He stood there, wired with longing, not daring to even ring the doorbell.

Poppy knew Leo was close from the moment he arrived. He waited and waited, and it took all Poppy's strength to ignore him. She thought of trying another spell on him to make him go, to remind him of Ember. But Poppy found she couldn't concentrate as she needed to for witchcraft. It was as if Leo was in her way, his emotions emanating from him, every particle of his being summoning her, deafening her with his want and need. His guilt
and frustration came seeping under the door and into her house, making her skin tingle and eyes water. Or was it her own feelings that were thickening the air, making it so hard to breathe? Having spent the last few days feeling so certain and assured, Poppy now felt weak with confusion.

Finally, when it grew late, Leo banged on the door. Poppy wished her father was home to deal with him and tell him to get lost. But, as usual, she was all alone. He shouted her name through the mail slot.

“I know you're in there. Poppy, please. Just answer the door. Just for a minute.”

Poppy said nothing, and Leo banged with his fist again so the whole door shook.

“Why won't you speak to me?”

You know why
, she felt like screaming, but she stayed silent.

Then Leo threw stones up to her bedroom window and she felt like thrusting open the window and slinging something back down at him. He stood in the front garden and yelled her name for all the world to hear. Poppy sat on the floor and scrunched her eyes closed, hugging her knees, making herself small and insignificant for she feared what was coming.