He leaned back in his chair and nodded. “Since the middle of the eighteenth century. There are boxes and boxes of my journals in a room in the basement.”
“Why? You have a photographic memory.”
He stood and came toward her. “Only for events and people. Not how I felt about them.”
She was surprised. And fascinated. “Can I read them?”
“I guess, but I’m not sure why you’d want to.”
No, he wouldn’t understand her interest in knowing more about him, or how much he probably revealed in his words. “Do you write about me?”
He was standing right in front of her now. “Of course. I was just writing about our conversation this morning.”
“And what did you say?”
Resting his hands on her shoulders, focused on her mouth, he was clearly losing interest in discussing his journal. “I wrote that it bothers me that you think my only interest in you is that you’re Anabo, and I wish I was more creative and could think up ways to prove it to you. Then I made a note that I should ask Jax, because he’s good at things like that.” He moved closer.
“I told you I believe you. Do you think I was lying?”
His hands slid into her hair to hold her head, and his cheek was warm against hers. “You’d never lie to me, but you still doubt. I know you do. And that makes me nuts. I wish I knew exactly the right thing to say, so you’d know you’re all I’d ever want. You’d know how much I love that your scent is bluebells, and that you’re maybe the softest thing on God’s earth, and just putting my arms around you is like a gift. You’d know I dream about you every night.” He kissed her almost reverently. “And you’d know that I was a goner from the moment you kissed me and saved my life. Maybe another Anabo would have had the guts to do that, Jordan, but I don’t think so. You’re brave and strong. My biggest regret is that God can’t hear me thanking him for sending you to me.”
And she’d thought she had him all figured out. Tightening her arms around him, she whispered just before he kissed her again, “Don’t bother talking to Jax.”
Tuesday passed pretty much like Monday. Eryx was always around, it seemed, looking at her with that freakish intensity. Tessa didn’t appear to notice, thank God, but Key did, and after lunch, he went to Eryx and said something Jordan couldn’t hear. Eryx shrugged and walked away. “What did you say to him?” she asked when Key came back to her locker.
“I told him he needs to give up, because you’re way too strong-willed ever to give in.”
“Have you noticed, there’ve been no new lost souls since last week? And none of the ones here now has even spoken to me, much less tried to get me to lose my temper. This morning, Carla came to the residence, and it was almost like business as usual. She told me about a talk I’m supposed to give at a school next week, and an ambassador dinner at the White House a month from now.” She watched Eryx and saw Tessa hurry to catch up.
“What’s he up to?”
Key was also staring after him. “Something, that’s for sure. Dammit, I wish we could do the takedown right now and get you out of here.”
Just as Eryx and Tessa reached the end of the hall, he looked back at her and smiled. Cold dread slid down her back.
The next day was Wednesday, and she had to leave school early to go to her doctor appointment. Key wanted to go with her, under a cloak, but she told him she’d rather do this alone. So after sixth period, Hank and Gunther drove her to the military medical center in Bethesda. Hank ran a sweep of the doctor’s office, then she went in for her visit, and they both stayed just outside the door.
Since the doctor’s name was Terry Meyers, she had expected a man, but it was a middle-aged woman with short brown hair and glasses she wore at the end of her nose while she sat in a chair and paged through Jordan’s file. “Are you having any difficulties? Nightmares? Changes in appetite? Things like that?”
Boy, if she only knew. “I’ve had a few bad dreams about Matthew, but not really what I’d call nightmares.”
“Have you seen Matthew since you returned home?”
“No,” she lied, “I can’t. He’s in ICU, and it’s family only, but as soon as he’s in a regular room, I plan to visit him.”
Dr. Meyers asked her more questions, and Jordan did her best to answer honestly, except when she couldn’t. Toward the end of their hour, the woman came back to Matthew. “You’ve said that you feel guilty about what happened to him, and from our conversation, I believe this is what’s troubling you most, even more than being held captive.”
She told the doctor about Matthew’s texts, and the Photoshopped picture. “All that said to me is that he’s in a terrible place, emotionally, and I can’t help but feel guilty about it.”
“You said you plan to visit him, but do you think you should, when he’s so adamant about not wanting to see you? Should you wait until he changes his mind?”
She couldn’t tell the doctor that she was running out of time. It was only two and a half weeks until the takedown. “If he tells me to leave, I will, but he’s one of my best friends, and I think maybe I could help him.”
“I’ve worked with a lot of paraplegics, Jordan, so you need to be prepared. It’s a grieving process, and until he reaches the stage where he’s ready to accept his new life, he’s going to be angry and bitter. I don’t want you to push things and then feel more guilty because of his reaction.”
She hadn’t thought about it that way, but it didn’t matter. She had to see him before she left Washington for good.
On the way back to the White House, she stared out the window and thought a lot about what Dr. Meyers had said. At dinner, Dad asked how her appointment had gone, and she wasn’t lying when she said, “It was a big help, but I don’t think I need to go back.”
“Are you sure, Jo?”
“Yeah, Dad, I’m sure. I’m doing all right.”
He looked supertired and stressed again, and she almost asked about the Atlanta riot, then didn’t. Instead, she told him stories about people at school, hoping to take his mind off of things, even if it was just during dinner.
When she visited Mariah later that night, she saw her first attempt at painting. Jordan didn’t say so, but she didn’t think her sister had a future as a painter.
Mariah said, “It sucks, I know, but it was fun to do. Tomorrow Zee’s going to give me a piano lesson.”
Everyone had taken Mariah under his wing, and she seemed content to stay awhile. Jordan hadn’t broached the subject of staying forever, because she didn’t want to scare her sister with the specter of Eryx. Not yet. She also hadn’t told her she was Anabo. But it was a conversation that had to happen, because now that Eryx knew what she was, she’d never be safe in the real world. Key had agreed that they should wait to tell her and let her get more comfortable with life on the mountain.
In a way, Mariah was being courted by Sasha and the brothers, and even Mathilda, who loved and adored anyone who needed her. Everyone liked Mariah. Everyone except Phoenix. Her sister had asked why he was so rude, when the others seemed so gracious, but all Jordan said was that he’d lost his fiancée and was still grieving. Mariah asked, “When?” and Jordan gave a vague, “Oh, a while ago.”
Watching her sister drink the tea Mathilda had brought, she said, “So, piano lessons. Do you like music?”
“I love music.” Mariah smiled at her. “We used to sing all the time. Mama taught us some of the old folk songs, and we’d sing them for Papa when he got home from work.”
“Would you sing one to me now?”
Mariah looked toward the fire and began. By the third note, Jordan was mesmerized. Mariah’s low, smoky voice was beautiful, and she lit up when she sang, giving Jordan a glimpse of the person her sister was meant to be.
After their visit, she went to Key’s room, but she didn’t stay as long as she had the past two nights. She had tons of homework, and even though it didn’t matter in the long run, she couldn’t bring herself to blow it off.
&n
bsp; Thursday was the recall election, and by lunchtime, she was no longer president. As she and Key walked toward the dining hall, he said quietly, “I’m sorry, Jordan. As much as I’d like to blame it all on Eryx for spreading it around about your doctor visit, I know it’s partly my fault.”
“It doesn’t really matter, Key. I’ll be gone soon, anyway.” But it still stung, and later, after school was over, she wanted to get out of the building as fast as possible, to avoid hearing anyone apologize and having to say it was okay when it wasn’t.
She was digging around in her locker, searching for her history book, when she heard Key mutter under his breath, “Holy shit.”
Then she heard Courtney say, “I’m really sorry about the recall vote, Jordan.”
Of all the people she wanted to escape, Courtney was top on the list, so of course she was standing just behind her, pretending to be sorry Jordan had just been kicked out of office. “Yeah, me, too.” With the history book finally found, she unbent, turned to face Courtney, and had one of the biggest shocks of her life. There was a shadow across Courtney’s eyes. Jordan stared in disbelief. “No way. Of all people, not you.”
Courtney shrugged, as if it was no big deal to blow off God and pledge her soul to a con artist. “Eryx promised he could get me back into Hopper’s class so I could still go to Princeton.”
“But you wanted to go so you could major in theology and become a minister. You can’t do that now, so what difference does it make?”
“I didn’t realize what it really meant until after I did it, so there is a lot of irony. He got me back into Hopper’s class, but now I don’t want to go to Princeton.”
“You won’t be going to college anywhere,” Key said.
She gave him a look. “You don’t scare me, so don’t even try.” She turned away. “I’ll say hello to Matthew for you, Jordan.”
“What?” Jordan jogged after her and reached for her arm, making her stop. “You’re going to see Matthew?”
“He was released from ICU this morning, so I’m going to see if he’d like to be healed. Eryx could do it, you know.” She smiled, but it wasn’t real, didn’t reach her eyes. “Matthew loves you so much, I guess he’d do just about anything to walk again, so he wouldn’t lose you to …”—she nodded toward Key—“that.”
Watching Courtney walk away through the sea of kids in the hall, panic clawed at Jordan’s throat. She wanted to stop her, but she couldn’t, and even if she did, Eryx would send someone else. Turning, she slowly walked back to her locker, feeling as if her whole world had just tilted.
“Maybe he won’t do it,” Key said.
She turned and stared after Courtney, who was almost to the front doors of the school. “I saw Randy outside of Mr. Barnes’s office today, and I asked him what Eryx had promised him.” She looked up at Key. “He wants to play football for Notre Dame. He gave up his soul to play football. Matthew could walk again. That’s so much bigger than football, how could he resist?”
“It’s not really about what a person wants, Jordan. It’s how he thinks it will change his life. Zee’s already doing reconnaissance, and he says Randy’s here on scholarship. He’s a low-income guy in a school full of über-rich kids. It could be that he believes he’ll be drafted to play pro ball and become rich and famous if he plays for Notre Dame. All those government friends of your dad’s probably thought they’d become more powerful, or more respected, or whatever they think is missing that would make them feel more worthy. For Matthew, if he pledges so he can walk, it won’t be just because he can get out of a wheelchair. It’ll be because his ability to walk is tied to something else, something he thinks he has to have to feel whole. That’s why Eryx is so good at this. He can figure out what a person wants, way deep inside, what they would never say out loud, or maybe even admit to themselves.”
Now she was even more depressed. “Matthew’s dad is a hard-ass who always expects him to be perfect. When he falls short, his dad treats him like dirt, and he always falls short because no one is perfect.” She watched as the front door closed behind Courtney. “I’m not sure when, but I have to see him, Key.”
He didn’t argue or ask to go with her. Just looked at her with sad understanding. “I know.”
After he watched Jordan head back to the White House with Hank and Gunther, Key went to his Capitol Hill town house, where he was pretending to live with Brody and a Lumina named Mirabelle, who was posing as his aunt. He collected two weeks’ worth of junk mail out of the box and decided to thumb through it before he tossed it. He spied one interesting piece and pulled it out to read.
He and Brody were cordially invited to the Winter Ball, to be held in the dining hall at Oates this Saturday night. He’d heard people talking about it but hadn’t paid much attention. Looking at the invitation, he could see that this was a big deal at her school.
And this would be her last school dance.
Holding the invitation, he popped into her room, cloaked, with his eyes closed.
“I’m decent.”
He opened his eyes and walked toward where she sat cross-legged on the bed, reading her history textbook. “Are you going to this?” he asked, showing her the invitation.
She shook her head. “Tessa will be there with Eryx, and they’re sure to win king and queen of the Winter Court, which will make me happy for Tessa, but furious with everyone who voted for Eryx.”
“I think you should go. With me.”
She gave him an odd look. “You would hate it.”
“Probably, but I want to take you because this will be your last school dance.”
The look became more odd. Sort of dreamy. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
“I’ve seen your closet.”
She lay back on her pillows. “All right, but you can’t make fun of anyone, and no griping about the music, and don’t eat all the cupcakes.”
“Can we dance?”
She smiled. “I can dance. Can you?”
“I’ve waltzed across some of the finest ballrooms in Europe.”
“This won’t be ballroom dancing.”
He groaned. “I was afraid of that.”
“Do you still want to go?”
“Can I take you off into a dark corner and kiss you?”
“I certainly hope so.”
“Then yes, I still want to go.” He started to pop out, then noticed she was wearing one of his dress shirts. He knew because a very small KdK was embroidered on the breast pocket. It was ginormous on her small body. “Hey, Sticky Fingers, have you been raiding my closet?”
“Maybe.” She blushed. “I like the way this smells.”
“What? Like starch?”
Her smile was kind of funny and shy. “Like you.”
Jordan ditched school the next day, in spite of Hank’s and Gunther’s protests, and told Hank she wanted to go to George Washington University Hospital. Key texted her at 8:15, five minutes after first period began. Is today the day?
Yes.
I’m right here. No matter what.
I’m nervous.
You’ve been friends a long time. It’ll be okay once you get there.
Unless he’s pledged.
Leave. If he’s done it, promise me you’ll leave.
I promise.
Inside the hospital, she asked at the information desk for Matthew’s room, then, after taking an elevator upstairs, she walked down long hallways and through multiple doors before she finally found it.
Gunther went in before her, because he had to, killing whatever element of surprise she’d had; when he came out, he said, “Matthew asked me not to let you come in.”
“Is there anyone in there with a gun?”
“Of course not. We wouldn’t be standing here if there was.”
She pushed open the door and stepped inside the room, leaving Hank and Gunther out in the hallway. Matthew had no shadow across his eyes, and she was so relieved, she felt weak in the knees. He was alone, for which she was grateful.
She’d have a lot harder time saying what she came to say with his mom staring at her.
“God, Jordan, don’t do this. Please don’t do this.”
“I had to see you, Matthew.”
He wouldn’t look at her, but kept his focus on the muted TV, tuned to ESPN.
She stood next to the bed and wasn’t sure where to begin. He looked so much better than when she’d seen him after she returned from London. He wasn’t hooked up to nearly as many tubes and wires. His hair was back to its usual shaggy softness, with a lock that drifted across his forehead. His eyes didn’t have that wild, violent look, but instead held a sad resignation.
“I know you made it up about Tori, and the picture you sent was Photoshopped.”
“I did it so you’d get that I meant what I said. But here you are anyway. I don’t know why I’m surprised, because it’s what you do. You have to fix everything and everybody, always the avenging angel. I don’t need an angel, Jordan. I need my damn legs to work, and not even you can fix that.”
Yes, she could, and it made her crazy with frustration that she couldn’t use her ability to heal him. “I’d give anything if this hadn’t happened to you. I’ll always feel like it was my fault.”
“How? Two guys with guns decided to bust into my house and kidnap you. They shot me. How is any of that your fault?”
“They wanted me because I’m the president’s daughter.”
“I made a choice to go out with you, and I knew you weren’t going to be like an insurance salesman’s daughter. They assign Secret Service agents to protect you because there’s always a risk of something happening. I knew that going in. So maybe I should feel like an idiot for dating the First Daughter.”
“Maybe you should. Or at least be mad that I said no that night.”
He turned his head and looked right at her. “I know what you’re thinking. If we’d been upstairs, we’d have had a chance to get away. But you’re wrong. Outside my window it’s a twenty-foot drop to the street. The bathroom window is too small to get out of. My parents’ window also drops to the street. And the guest room window is a twenty-foot drop to the alley. We would have been at just as much risk upstairs. Maybe worse.” He looked at the TV again. “So save your guilt. Jordan. Shit happens, and we don’t get a do-over.”