All I mostly felt at first was my own body. Dorian’s binds didn’t hurt me, but they were snug. The stitched-up cut stung a little. The back of my head ached. My leg muscles felt stretched and inflamed. I slowly took inventory of every part of me, assessing how each one felt. I could feel the beat of my own heart, the steadiness of my breathing.
After that, I started concentrating on the stuff around me. I heard someone, Dorian maybe, slide up a chair and sit down. A plane droned overhead. One of my neighbors kept a bird feeder, and sparrows regularly chirped and squabbled around it. The harsher cries of less melodic birds sounded in the distance. My street had few houses and was removed from real traffic, but a block or so away, a car started and then drove off.
I thought about water, its appeal growing as the sun beat down. I had put on my own sunscreen and was grateful for it. Still, I could feel sweat pouring off of me. Water would be cool, refreshing. My mom’s house had a pool, and suddenly I wanted nothing more than to dive into that crystal-blue surface.
I thought about the bowl of water, thinking of its cool temperature, the wetness on my skin. I tried to feel it, to call to it.
“There,” I said at last. I don’t know how much time had passed. Awhile.
“Where?” asked Dorian.
“Four o’clock.”
“What?”
“She means over there,” I heard Kiyo say. Presumably he pointed.
“No,” said Dorian.
“What?”
“Sorry.”
“Was I close?”
“No.”
“Not even a little?”
“No.”
“Damn it! Get me out of this.” I wriggled against my constraints.
“Hardly.” Dorian’s voice held mild surprise. “We must try again.”
“Oh, dear lord. This might be even more boring than the meditation,” I grumbled. “Can I at least get something to drink?”
He hesitated. “Actually, I think your odds will increase if you’re thirsty.”
“Oh, come on-”
“Here we go,” said Dorian. I heard him get up and walk around again, and once more, I couldn’t tell where the bowl ended up.
When he returned to his chair, I tried again. More time passed as I concentrated my little heart out. At one point, I heard someone get up and move toward the door.
“Who is that?”
“Me,” said Dorian. “I’m bored.”
“What? You’re my teacher.”
“The kitsune will call if you need me.”
“I don’t believe this,” I said when he was gone.
“Hey, this was your idea,” said Kiyo.
I heard him shift in a chair, getting comfortable.
I was on the verge of my next guess when Dorian came outside again.
“There. Nine o’clock.”
Kiyo must have pointed again.
“No,” said Dorian.
He made me do it again, and by then, I was furious. My poor muscles, already put through enough, were locking up from lack of movement. The heat was unbearable. To make matters worse, Kiyo asked if Dorian wanted something to drink and then went inside. He returned, and I heard the sound of a two-liter of pop opening, followed by the filling of two glasses.
After that, they started carrying on casual conversation.
“Eugenie will be at my Beltane ball,” Dorian explained, “as my special guest.”
“Sounds great.”
“Your enthusiasm is palpable.”
“Just not my thing, that’s all.”
“Ah, pity. Because if you wanted to come, I’d be happy to extend the invitation.”
“I wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble.”
“It’s no trouble at all. You could come with Eugenie. I always make special arrangements for dignitaries’ entourages and servants.”
“Will you two shut up?” I asked. “I’m working here.”
They fell silent.
Water, water. I needed that goddamned water so that Dorian would untie me and I could return to air conditioning. I’d also drink a gallon of water while I was at it. Maybe two or three. In fact, when I found that stupid bowl, I’d dump it over my head.
Sweat pooled along the hem of my shirt and where the cords and blindfold pressed against my skin. I’d probably sweated away the sunscreen and would burn. As if my body hadn’t been through enough. Where the hell was that water? Why couldn’t I find it?
I thought again about my mom’s pool, vowing I’d pay her a visit tomorrow. God, it was so hot. I just wanted to be cooler. Water, water, water. I felt like Helen Keller. Or maybe one of those people in the Lakota sun dances where excessive heat exposure induced hallucinations. Maybe I could imagine the water.
I sighed, and then, somehow, I felt coolness touch me. It was a reprieve from the heat. I straightened up as much as I could. Had I done it? Was this what it felt like to touch the water? The third time was the charm. Yes. There it was again. Like cool, moist air blowing at me from the east. I could taste its dampness, hanging around me like humidity in the sauna.
I inclined my head in the direction I’d sensed the cool air. “I’ve got it. Three o’clock.”
“No.”
“The hell it isn’t!”
I heard Dorian get up. He sighed. “I think we’d better quit for the day.”
“But I swear I had it! I could feel it! I was thinking about water so hard.”
“I know you were.”
He undid the blindfold, and I looked up. Billowing clouds, colored like lead, inked out the sky. Wind blew at me from the east-not imagined after all-picking up in strength. Great, heavy drops fell around us, landing with loud splashes.
Water at last.
Chapter Nineteen
Dorian wasn’t nearly as impressed as he should have been by the storm.
“You couldn’t control it,” he told me. “It did you no good. Until you master the small things, you’ll never control the large ones. They’ll control you.”
He didn’t seem upset; he simply showed that infinite patience and good-natured attitude he always had. Still enchanted by human stuff, he wanted us to take him into the city and show him entertaining things-particularly the aforementioned women with low inhibitions. Considering the car ride would have literally killed him, we ordered pizza instead.
You could tell it was sort of a letdown for him, but he still enjoyed it. He found delight in everything, I realized. Well-except for those extreme moments of boredom that seemed to plague him, although even in those he still managed to find some sort of joke. I didn’t know many people like that.
I saw him once more that week, this time at his place. He made me repeat the boring water experiment five times, but it only yielded the exact same results. At least this time I didn’t conjure any storms. When I asked if we could do something else next time, he laughed and sent me home.
The day before Dorian’s ball, I mustered up the courage to do something I’d been thinking about for a long time now: visit Wil Delaney.
He still left messages with Lara almost every other day, but that wasn’t what finally made me go see him again. Ever since my mom’s visit, I hadn’t been able to shake the idea of her locked away, miserable and alone, in Storm King’s castle. The pain of that image transferred to my impressions of Jasmine, and no matter how reluctant the girl had been to leave, I knew she was still a victim. I wanted to do something-anything-to help her but had no idea where to start or even how to do it, considering last time’s disaster. Talking to Wil again seemed like a semireasonable beginning.
Kiyo went with me, driving us in his rental car since his poor Spider was out of commission. This car was a brand-new Toyota Camry that seemed pretty nice to me, though it obviously caused him considerable distress.
When we knocked on the door, Wil didn’t answer right away.
“You sure he’s here?” Kiyo asked.