Pierce's brow creased, and he waved away the cab that had pulled up. "Like the music from the boxes?" he said, and I nodded. It was close enough.
"Then we walk," he said. With a last wave to the angry I.S. officers behind the green-tinted sheet of ever-after, he tightened his grip on my fingers, and we strode down the sidewalk.
My pulse was fast and I felt breathless. I'd never done anything like this before, and I felt alive. For the first time in my freaking life, I felt alive—the adrenaline making me light and airy and my steps long and sure. The snow drifted down peacefully, and I wished that I could do this forever—walk with a man's hand in mine, happy and pleasantly warm with this alive feeling running through me. He wasn't much taller than me, and our steps were closely matched.
I glanced behind us at the retreating I.S. building, then shyly at Pierce, but his attention was on the buildings and storefront displays. I eyed the colored lights and the happy people walking in the snow with last-minute solstice and Christmas shoppers finding a final, perfect gift.
"No beggars," he whispered.
"Well, a few," I said, abruptly seeing the street in an entirely different way. "But they're probably at the square, partying."
Pierce pulled our joined fingers up, mine almost blue from the cold. "I can't keep communing with—ah, pulling a line through you," he said softly. "I'm not one born in the woods to be afraid of an owl, yet to save that child with only my fists I expect is a fool's errand. Do you know…" He hesitated, attention flicking from a truck slushing past and back to me. "Do you know a witchy woman or man I might procure ley line charms from?"
"Oh!" I said brightly, determined to keep up with him though my chest was starting to hurt. Of course he'd need something, seeing as he couldn't tap a line himself. "The university's bookstore has an entire floor of ley line stuff. I'm sure they'll have something."
"Magic studies? In the university?" he asked, and I nodded, my free arm swinging. But a frown creased his brow, and leaning to me, he whispered, "I would prefer a smaller shop if you know of it. I don't have even a stick to barter with or a… card of credit," he added hesitantly, as if knowing he hadn't gotten the words in the right order.
My eyes widened. "I don't have much money either. Cab fare, is all."
Pierce took a deep breath and exhaled. "No matter. I will suitably impress upon the proprietor my desperate need." His chin rose and a defiant gleam entered his eyes as we continued forward. "I will beg. If they are honorable, they will help."
Beg, eh? I though, fully believing he would get down on his knees before the night manager at the university bookstore.
who would promptly throw him out, not pleased to be working on the solstice. "I've a better idea," I said, praying my mom would go for it. My dad's stuff was in the attic. I knew my mom wouldn't be happy, but the worst thing she could do was say no. Edging us to the curb, I searched for a cab. "I'll take you home," I said, leaning into the street in the universal language of cabbies. "You can look over my dad's old ley line stuff. He worked for the I.S. He probably has something."
Pierce drew me back from the curb, and I blinked at him, surprised. His expression was pinched as he stood in the puddle of streetlight and falling snow, elegant in his long coat and shiny new boots. "Miss Rachel, no. I'm not of a mind to endanger you anymore. I'll escort you home, then go alone to the university. If there are learned men there, they will assist me."
I winced, imagining all Pierce would find right now would be half-drunk students and solstice parties. "Good God, Pierce," I said, when a passing cab saw us standing there and did a U-bangy. "I'm the one that got you involved. Lighten up."
"But—" he said, and I twined my fingers more surely into his as the cab pulled up.
"I'm involved. You're not getting rid of me, so get used to it."
Pierce's grip tightened on mine, and then he relaxed. "Thank you," he said, and in those two words, I saw how lost he was. He had until sunrise to save both the girl and his soul, and I was the only one who could get him through this nightmare that I lived in.
Chapter 6
The cabbie drove away from my house slowly, the sound of his car muffled from the piled snow. In the Hollows there would be bonfire parties and neighborhood howls, but here, on my street, it was quiet. Pierce's steps were almost silent next to mine as we left prints on the walk to the porch. It had stopped snowing, and I looked up at the red-bottomed clouds through the cold, black branches of the maple tree I had planted for my dad upon his death. My throat closed and I touched it in passing. I was glad he was at rest, but it would have been nice to have had him back again as solid as Pierce was—even if just for the night.
Pierce hung back as I went up the three cement steps and twisted the knob to no avail. "My mom must be out," I said, swinging my bag around to look for my keys. The porch light was on, and her prints showed where she had gone to the garage and not come back. Maybe some last-minute shopping? Maybe down to the I.S. tower to pick up Robbie? I had a bad feeling it was the latter.
"This is a very beautiful house," Pierce said, facing the neighborhood and the bright lights and snowmen keeping guard.
"Thanks," I said as I dug in my jeans pocket for my house key. "Most witches live in the Hollows across the river in Kentucky, but my mom wanted to live here." Finding my keys, I looked up to see a faint bewilderment in his gaze. "Both she and my dad were in high school during the Turn, and I think she likes passively making trouble when she can get away with it—like living in a predominantly human neighborhood."
"As is the mother, so the daughter?" he said dryly.
My key was warm, and I slipped it into the lock. "If you like."
Only now did Pierce come up the steps, giving the street a last look before he did.
"Mom?" I called when I opened the door, but I knew from the dull glow of light in the hall coming from the kitchen that the house was empty. Glancing at Pierce on the threshold, I smiled. "Come on in."
Pierce looked at the gray slush on his boots. "I'm not of a mind to soil your rugs."
"So stomp your feet," I said, taking his arm and pulling him in. "Shut the door before you let all the heat out."
The shadow of the closing door prompted me to flick on the hallway light, and Pierce squinted at it. I hated the green color my mom had painted the hallway and living room. Pictures covered the passage to the kitchen: pictures of me and Robbie, slices of our lives.
I glanced back at Pierce, who was still staring at the light but clearly making an effort to not say anything. I hid a smile and wondered how much longer his efforts to not look unimpressed would win out over his curiosity.
"You have so many rugs," he finally said, following suit as I stomped my feet.
"Thanks," I said, and I shuffled out of my coat His eyes finally hit the walls, and he reached out "And photographs. In color."
"You've seen pictures?" I asked, surprised, and he nodded.
"I've had my picture taken," he said proudly, then reached out. "This is you? It's beautiful," he said in awe. "The expression the artist captured is breathtaking. None of God's landscapes has ever looked so beautiful."
I gazed at the picture he was touching in reverence and then away with mixed feelings. It was a close up of my face among the fall leaves, my eyes as green and vivid as all creation, my hair bringing out all the shades of autumn clustered about. I had just come back from a stint at the hospital and you could see that I was ill by my pale complexion and thin face. But my smile made it truly beautiful, my smile I had given to my dad as the shutter snapped, thanking him for the joy we had found in the simple pleasure of the day.