The Hourglass Door (16 page)

“How do you know I’m a friend of Dante’s?”

“I know all of Dante’s friends,” Leo said, shrugging. “He speaks very highly of you, Abby Edmunds. You have made quite an impression on him.”

I blushed, wrapping the straw around my finger.

Leo caught me looking at the “Employees Only” door. “Perhaps he has made an impression on you too, yes?”

“I wish I knew more about him,” I said, the late hour leading me to the truth. “He’s not very talkative about himself or his past. I mean, he hardly ever talks about Italy or his family or anything personal at all.”

“Dante’s past is his own. It’s not my place to tell another man’s secrets.”

“But you’re his family, aren’t you? Isn’t that why he’s staying with you and not someone else?”

Leo paused, and I sensed he was choosing his words with care. “I care for Dante like a son. I have vowed to watch over him and protect him while he is here. He is staying with me so I can teach him what he needs to know about this world and his place in it.” Leo absently cleaned a glass with the edge of his towel. “Dante can be stubborn and headstrong. Sometimes I worry that he is taking unnecessary risks. Dangerous risks.” He flashed a smile at me. “I know he borrowed my car without permission, for example. And that he kept the Dungeon open while I was gone despite my specific instructions otherwise.”

“He said you were on vacation,” I said, surprised that Dante had been selective with the truth. From behind me, I heard Zo’s voice rise up in angelic laughter, the deeper timbre of V’s and Tony’s voices murmuring in harmonious conversation.

Leo’s blue eyes clouded over and a small muscle clenched in his jaw. “It would have been better had he followed the rules, but what is done is done.”

“He did a good job, if that makes you feel better,” I said.

Leo shook his head, a smile returning to his eyes. “I know he did. Dante is the kind of man who will do his best at whatever task is placed before him. He is conscientious and kind. He cares deeply for others and feels emotions strongly. I believe that is why he has been keeping parts of himself to himself. He will tell you what he can, Abby, in his own time. I’m sure of it.

“And now,
mia donna di luce
— your drink.” Leo hummed low in his throat, a musical growl that rumbled in his wake as he methodically selected a round goblet with a thick pedestal and set it in front of me. It was the size of a small fishbowl. He draped his towel over the mouth of the glass, his actions measured as though he were performing a ritual or a magic trick. “This is a special drink because it is made with a story and a song.”

Folding my arms on the bar, I sat up straighter, intrigued.

Leo nodded his approval at my interest. His low voice whispered like a passing secret and I had to lean forward to catch his words.

“Before the beginning, there was a void. A darkness. Then, from out of the darkness came a sound.” With a quick flick of his wrist, he snapped the towel off the glass, a shivery chime ringing deep in the glass bowl. Before the sound had completely escaped the round bell of the glass, Leo tipped a bottle of dark black liquid into the goblet, thick and viscous. “The sound resonated through the darkness of the void, reaching . . . searching. And then, in the darkness, the sound met another of its kind and”—he deftly tipped some smoky amber liquid like a splash of bottled sunshine into the glass—“Harmony was born.”

Leo flicked the rim of the glass with his thumb and forefinger. The note that rose was deeper than before, shimmering in the air before fracturing into two notes. He withdrew a long glass tube from underneath the bar and, inserting it into the black and amber liquid, gently stirred the contents into a golden blend. As glass struck glass, the rising notes it produced danced around each other.

“Melody came next.” With his free hand, Leo tipped in a handful of ice cubes. The small splashes trilled like rising scales.

“And the music of the spheres spread throughout the darkness, infusing it with magic.”

Leo added bubbles to the drink, each one a tiny jewel of light and air in the swirling liquid.

“The darkness felt the magic and heard the music and dreamed of sloughing off the shadows and dancing in the light. From out of the depths of those dark dreams, Time was born.”

A colorless river of clear liquid spilled into the glass, filling it to the brim. The golden bubbles churned, fizzing and jumping like sparks.

“And when Melody saw Time dancing in the dark spaces, she saw the future unspooling in his wake. She reached out for Time, gathered him to her rhythms, and in the darkness . . .”—Leo covered the glass with his towel again—“they kissed a midnight kiss. And thus was born the first Dawn of creation.”

Leo slipped the towel off the glass one last time and I gasped. The bright golden liquid had transformed to the softest pink blush of the rising sun.

“Make a wish. They say those who drink down the Dawn will have a wish come true before the next sunrise.” Smiling, Leo pushed the goblet into my unresisting hands. “Enjoy your Midnight Kiss, Abby.”

Caught up in the story, I swallowed down the drink without stopping. It was pure poetry going down my throat and tasted of the clear, crisp air of an autumn morning, of the velvety shadows of a winter night, of the tickling green summer grass on bare feet, of the scent of the first springtime rose.

Gasping, I set the goblet back down on the counter, my head spinning, a grin spreading across my face. “That was amazing. What exactly did you put in it?”

“I told you—a story and a song.”

“And a wish,” I reminded him.

Leo smiled, drying his hands with his towel and gathering up the empty goblet. “Good night, Abby. And good wishing.”

I swiveled on the bar stool, leaning back against the cool railing. As I felt the Midnight Kiss tingle through my veins, I thought about stories and songs. I glanced once more at the “Employees Only” door and thought about wishes and Dante.

I closed my eyes, and wished.

Chapter

10

The cold night air felt like silk on my hot skin. I leaned against the wall and imagined that I could feel the throb and pulse of the music through the bricks. I could certainly hear it blaring through the doors even though I was out in the school’s courtyard. I sipped at my glass of punch and closed my eyes, wondering why I wasn’t having as much fun as I had hoped.

Jason looked fabulous in his suit and he had made sure his tie matched my dress, which, he said, matched the color of my eyes. My parents had held us captive to the camera, taking countless pictures before finally releasing us with a final hug and a kiss. Mom even kissed Jason on the cheek, saying how handsome he looked.

Personally, I thought I looked drab and outdated in my dark brown dress. Under the flashing lights of the dance floor, my “Cocoa Foam” dress looked more like a “Dirt Brown” knockoff. All the other girls were wearing delicate pastels of blue or green or shades of pink or white as befitted a Valentine’s Dance, and then there was me—a chocolate kiss among all the shiny silver wrappers. I brushed my hand over the giant ruffled bow attached to the hip of my skirt and tossed back the remainder of my punch, wishing it was something fizzy and sparkling. I could have used some bubbles in my stomach, if only to approximate the excitement I was missing.

Absently, I ran my fingers over the butterfly necklace at my throat and idly wondered what Dante was doing tonight. I knew he hadn’t asked anyone to the dance; in fact, I hadn’t seen him much since the Poetry Slam at the Dungeon a week ago. He’d been like a ghost at rehearsal—coming late, leaving early. I indulged myself for a moment, imagining that Dante had picked me up instead of Jason (even though I knew Leo had forbidden Dante to drive) and that we had gone to Helen’s Café to pick up a to-go order of strawberry scones and cream (even though I knew Helen’s didn’t have takeout) and that we’d spent the evening at Phillips Park, eating scones with our fingers and playing connect-the-dots with the stars overhead (even though I knew it was much too cold to stay outside for long).

Even as the thought occurred to me, I shivered and rubbed my arm with my free hand. I sighed.
Once more into the breach,
I quoted to myself, steeling myself to take the plunge back into the heat and whirling lights of the dance.

“Stop.”

Startled, I turned around, thinking someone was speaking to me. But the courtyard held only a few couples, none of whom were paying any attention to me.

“I can’t let you go in there.
Fermati!
”

It was Dante’s voice, crystal clear in the cold night air. What was he doing here? I peeked around the corner of the school and saw him standing by the workshop a few paces away from the building. He shoved his hand against Zo’s chest. Bright beams of moonlight puddled on the snow around them.

“In English, Dante,” Zo tsked. “Have you been neglecting your lessons? Leo will be most unhappy.”

“You have to leave.”

“You can’t stop me.” Zo grinned, showing all his teeth. “Besides V and Tony are already inside. You don’t want to break up the band, do you?”

“What you’re doing, Zo . . . it’s dangerous. It’s not right. I can’t let you go in there.”

Zo raked a hand through his dark hair. “What
we’re
doing . . . ? What about the stunt you pulled last week? After all your talk about keeping the balance and staying in control, you go and do something like that?” He shook his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“It was a mistake. I’ve paid for it all week. I’m not going to let it happen again.”

“Yes. You will. You’ll have to. Don’t you understand, Dante? It’s the only way to truly survive. Give it a year, or two, or three, or a hundred, and you’ll see that I’m right.”

“For you, maybe. But what about them—?”

“What
about
them?” Zo snapped. “Don’t tell me you feel sorry for them? They’re nothing.” He laughed, the sound like shattering glass. “You’re weak, Dante. You always have been. Apparently, you always will be.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this.”

Zo barked out a harsh laugh. “Right, right. I forgot. We could always end up cracked and drooling, our minds shattered while our bodies live on indefinitely. Such an appealing option.”

I saw Dante stiffen at Zo’s mocking tone. His voice was as dark as the night. “Leo says that as long as we keep the balance—”

“You can’t trust Leo. Haven’t you figured that out by now?” Zo sighed. “I can see that it’s pointless to argue with you, so I’ll just ask you one final question: Why? Why do we have to follow the rules? Keep the balance? Why—when we can have it all?” Zo took a step back, spreading his arms wide, embracing the night. “We have all the time in the world, my friend. And we can have all the
life
that goes with it, too.”

I didn’t see where the switchblade came from, but suddenly Zo held a thin blade in his long-fingered hand. With one motion, he cut through the shadows, slicing Dante’s arm from shoulder to elbow.

A ringing roared through my ears. I felt a scream stick to the roof of my mouth. My glass felt like a rock in my frozen hand.

Dante groaned, clutching his arm and falling to his knees like a supplicant in front of Zo.

“We’re not like them,” he said softly, gazing down at Dante with something like pity, or maybe disgust, on his face. He squatted in front of Dante to look him in the eye. “We’ll
never
be like them ever again, and the sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be.”

Zo stepped over Dante’s hunched form and sauntered toward the school. I watched him pull open the side door and slip inside without a backward glance.

I tossed my glass to the ground and grabbed my skirts in the same motion. I was at Dante’s side before the door had finished swinging closed. “Are you okay?”

I reached out for him, but he recoiled, hissing through his teeth. “No, please, Abby, don’t.” His eyes were black and flat with pain. The moonlight traced the grimace on his pale face. He held his left arm awkwardly with his right hand, his shoulders hunched inward. Sweat covered his face like a transparent mask.

“Don’t be stupid,” I said. “Let me help you.”

His eyes roamed aimlessly over the schoolyard as though he were looking at something else entirely. He lapsed into Italian, speaking quickly, urgently.

“Slow down. I can’t understand you.” I touched his curved back with one hand and his wrist with the other, trying to be careful of the wound on his arm.

He cut off midword. I could feel the strong muscles of his arm quivering with strain. He looked even paler, though I hadn’t thought it was possible.

“Please. Abby.” He forced each word through clenched teeth. He looked from my face to my hand on his wrist. “Not. Now.”

I pulled my hand away. “Sorry.” I felt something sticky and warm on my fingers and absently brushed my hand on my dress.

“No—” Dante choked.

I looked down and saw a smear of dark red blood on my hand, my dress.

The edges of my vision blurred. I felt myself tilting.
Don’t faint,
I told myself sharply.
Don’t be one of those girls who faints at the sight of blood.