A Beautiful Dark (11 page)

The sharp swoosh of someone coming to a stop behind me was startling. I glanced back.

“Good day for this, no?” Asher shaded his eyes with his hand as he squinted into the sky. “I hope the weather holds up.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Look, about last night—”

“Forget it, okay?” I turned to face him. “It happened. It’s over. We’re moving on.”

“We are?” His voice was serious, but his eyes, as always, were smiling. It felt like he was making fun of me, and, annoyed, I pulled my goggles down and faced the slope.

“Are you a good skier?”

“Haven’t lost a race this season,” I replied without looking at him.

“Wow,” he said. “You must have amazing control.” Steady on his skis, he swooped a slow, graceful arc behind me, coming up on my other side, forcing the guy who had been beside me to make room for him. Asher’s voice was low in my ear. “But it’s something else for you, too, I’m guessing.”

“And what would that be?” I stood up straight again, eyeing the edge. We were standing too close to it. One slip, and we’d be soaring down the mountain. I backed up.

“
Losing
control. That’s why you like to ski, isn’t it? The feeling of falling but still knowing you can catch yourself. You’re a control freak because you know that if pushed, you would topple too far in the other direction.”

“I’m not a control freak,” I challenged. What did he know? Once we got going, I was going to wipe that cocky smile right off his face.

Asher pulled his goggles down over his eyes, secured his grip on his poles.

“My mistake,” he said. “Let’s race.”

And he took off, body leaning into the wind, poles straight back and tucked under his arms. Seconds later, I was right behind him, my plan to ski with Ian abandoned. Asher had presented a challenge I couldn’t ignore.

“I’ll win!” I called, my blood boiling.

“Prove it!” he yelled back. His voice was remarkably clear above the wind.

I kept my focus on Asher—I wasn’t aware of anyone else on the mountain. If he swooped left, so did I. If he cut a sharp turn right over a bump, I followed. It became a game, a challenge. I’m not sure why I felt the sudden need to prove myself to him, but my body kept pace almost involuntarily. He knew I was watching him, like he’d been watching me since we’d met outside the Bean. Well, now he’d know what it felt like. And
damn
, he was an amazing skier. In his black parka and ski pants, he was like a dark star, hurtling forward. And I was his shadow, furtive and quick. Asher’s movements were sure, controlled, and he flew with seemingly no effort at all. I didn’t see him stumble once. I could feel the earth rippling and moving underneath me as I surged ahead.

And suddenly I was passing him. His crouching figure pulled alongside me, and then he slipped back until I couldn’t see him anymore. Every bump, every notch, every roiling swell of snow and rock and earth beneath me seemed to fall away like sand in an hourglass. And then it really
did
. The snow underneath my skis really
was
moving, falling away. My footing faltered, and on the verge of pitching forward, I glanced back.

Blind panic shot through my veins. Snow was ripping down the slope, balling up like boulders and thundering toward me with breathtaking speed. My heart was beating fast, and my breath came in sharp, ragged gasps. The snow drove down harder. I looked around wildly for some kind of sheltering rock or overhang. Anything at all to hold on to. But I was moving too fast. No one was behind me anymore—no one, not even Asher. I was alone. I was alone, and I was falling.

I hit the side of the mountain hard, the wind sucked out of my lungs like a vacuum. I felt a sharp twist of pain as my ankle buckled and snapped beneath me, and I went down.

I’d gone from calculated control to being completely helpless in the blink of an eye.

The sensation of falling: the fear, the elation.

The ground fell out from underneath me, and I dropped away. To someplace darker.

Chapter 12

S
omeone was saying my name. It sounded beautiful, like a song from somewhere otherworldly.

Had I died? Was I in heaven?

Was I someplace . . . else?

“Skye!”

My eyes shot open.

I was in a cave of some kind. As I sat up, slowly, with one hand out to steady myself, my surroundings came into focus. Wherever I was, it was dark, but a pale light shone through the seemingly translucent walls. Was I trapped under the snow? The walls around me shimmered and swayed slightly. What I was sure of, though, was the excruciating cold. The snow had soaked completely through the rip in my Gore-Tex gloves and through the fleece I wore underneath them.

Crouched on his knees in front of me was Asher.

“What are you doing here?” I forced out, my voice thick. My tongue felt like some kind of foreign object in my mouth.

“You’re awake!” He exhaled loudly, and relief shone in his eyes. He put his hand on my arm. “Are you okay? How do you feel?”

“My head . . .” I began, trying to cut through the fog pressing down on my brain. I realized that my ankle was throbbing in pain. “And my ankle. It’s twisted or broken or something.”

Asher furrowed his eyebrows, glancing down at it.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“I think we fell into some sort of snow cave.” Snow surrounded us, but we sat safely in the makeshift shelter.

“How did you . . . ?”

“I saw you falling, but I couldn’t reach you in time. You disappeared into the snow, so I jumped in after you.” Asher was feeling around my ankle with his hands. I winced, and he saw me. His face fell. “Sorry. I can’t . . .” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know how to fix it, Skye. I called for help while you were out.” His eyes flicked upward, presumably toward the outside world. I wondered what kind of cell reception we had down here. It’s not like I could climb out with a maybe-broken ankle. “I didn’t want to leave you here, alone,” he said, not meeting my eyes as he packed snow around my foot.

“It was weird.” I took a breath, grimacing as he steadied my ankle. “I was feeling this rush of power as I passed you. And it’s like—it’s almost as if the snow and ice started crumbling because of it. Because of how I felt. And then the more I started to panic, the more helpless I was . . . the harder it came.” I glanced up, afraid to meet his eyes. He was staring at me. Not in disbelief, exactly. More like he was contemplating something impossible. I hoped my eyes weren’t silver. I looked away. “It sounds crazy, I know.”

He didn’t say anything, and in the icy silence of the cave, I shivered. My fingers were beyond numb—they burned.

“Are you cold?” Asher asked quietly.

“Freezing.” I took off one Gore-Tex glove and poked a finger through the hole. Then I took off my fleece glove and held it up with a sad smile; it flopped over, soaking wet.

“Here.” He unzipped his black parka and wrapped it around me. I could feel the heat from his body still trapped inside as I drew it closer. It smelled earthy and warm.

“No,” I protested weakly. “You need it.”

“I naturally run hot,” he said with a grin. “I’ll be fine. How about you? Better?”

“Mmm. Thanks.” I drew my hands inside the sleeves. He was looking at me strangely.

“If I show you something, will you promise not to tell anyone?”

“Are you going to keep me entertained until we get rescued?”

“Something like that, but you have to promise.”

“Promise. Anything to distract me from the possibility of us dying.”

“You’re not going to die. I won’t let that happen.”

He sounded so certain, I could almost believe him. But I also wondered how anyone would ever find us before we became human popsicles.

He moved around so that he was sitting behind me. I could feel his chest against my back, his breath trace across my neck. I tried in vain to keep my own breathing steady, but the combination of the pain, the cold, and being so close to Asher made it come unevenly, shallow.

Asher reached both arms around me. “Take your hands out of the sleeves,” he murmured. I did, slowly—and he took both of my hands in his and brought them in close. He cupped them together, our palms facing upward. “Okay,” he whispered into my hair. “Don’t freak out.”

I stared at our hands, resting on top of each other. How could I possibly feel more freaked out than I already was?

And then.

A small flame bloomed between my palms. It didn’t hurt—all I could feel was a gentle warmth as the flames licked my fingers, circulation returning to them. The whole snow cave filled with a soft orange glow, firelight flickering shadows on the walls like they were telling a story.

I was holding fire in the palm of my hand.

“Asher?” My voice was getting higher, my heart beating much too fast. “How are you doing this?”

“If I told you, it would ruin the fun,” he said, and even though he was behind me, I could tell he was smiling. “A magician never gives away his secrets.”

“What is it with you and secrets?”

The flame flickered in my hand, and then flared up, toward the ceiling. When it died out, a circle of snow had melted, exposing the sky above.

“Whoa.” Asher whistled softly to himself. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.” He pulled away, inching around so that he was facing me again. His eyebrows were scrunched together in confusion. “I’m usually better at controlling that. I don’t know why . . .” He looked at me. He put his hand on my cheek. His fingers were still warm, and my shivering quieted.

“Look,” he said. “About last night.”

I sighed. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“No, listen. You were right—I have been trying to get your attention. But not for the reason you think.”

“Okay,” I said dubiously. “Then why?”

He smiled warmly, running his thumb softly over my cheekbone.

“Skye,” he murmured. “It’s . . . complicated.”

“I don’t understand,” I said, the words sounding stuck in my throat. I was vaguely aware that he’d used this line before, but I was slipping off into sleep and couldn’t focus.

“Listen, we don’t have to decide the fate of the world right this minute.” He cupped his hand under my head as it came to rest against his shoulder. “Skye, can you stay awake for me? Talk to me. Keep yourself talking.”

“What should I say?” I was so drowsy.

“Say anything. Say what you’re thinking about right now.”

I don’t know why I was thinking about this, but the words came tumbling out of my mouth before I had a chance to second-guess myself. “My parents died,” I said hazily, the fog wrapping itself around my head again. “In a car accident. When I was six.” I yawned.

“I’m sorry,” Asher said softly, positioning himself next to me. I felt him take my hand in his. It was warm. I moved myself so that I was leaning against him, burying my head in his warmth. I could feel his breath rising and falling.

“I don’t really remember the accident very well. I don’t know why I survived and they didn’t.” It felt good to talk about it. I never talked about that with anyone. “I could have died.” I didn’t like the way it sounded out loud.

He brushed the hair away from my face. “But you didn’t. Don’t worry, okay? Help will come.”

I could feel myself growing heavier, the world darker again. I almost thought I could feel the feathery touch of his lips on my forehead.

Almost.

Chapter 13

I
opened my eyes again in a much different kind of place.

The walls were just walls, about as opaque as walls can get, and I was toasty warm beneath the wool camp-style blanket draped over me. I wore flannel pajamas that I didn’t recognize, and I was lying on my back in a narrow bed. I was, it appeared, in the ski lodge infirmary. A place noticeably lacking in magic. On the ceiling above me, the various cracks and watermarks had been whitewashed over not very adeptly with a coat of paint. I felt okay—much better than earlier—except for the shooting pain in my ankle.

Had I really just been trapped in a makeshift snow cave with Asher? And had he really created . . . fire? Out of thin air? I felt like I was waking up from a vivid dream and confronting the harsh light of the real world. For all I knew, I was.

Where was Asher now? Feeling stiff and immobile in the infirmary bed, I turned my head on the pillow, hoping he’d be sitting there beside me, waiting to tell me that what I had seen was only my imagination. Or at least explain the neat trick and how he’d hidden the lighter.

Instead my eyes landed on Devin. He was sitting in a chair pushed up against the wall, staring out the window to the slopes beyond. He wasn’t looking at me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, confused. “Where’s Asher?”

Devin turned to me, his expression placid. “You’re awake.”

My pulse quickened. “How long have I been out?”

He looked at his hands. “A while.”

“Am I okay?”

“You don’t have a concussion, which was their biggest concern. Everything else is . . . fixable.”

“Everything else?” I tried to sit up, but Devin reached a hand out gently to stop me. A wave of dizziness overcame me, and I leaned back against the pillow. “Where are my friends? What are you even doing here?”

“Did your fall also make you forget that we’re friends, too?” He looked around. “Nurse? I think she has some memory loss after all!”

“Stop it!” I swatted his hand down.

“How do you feel?”

“Why are you here?” I repeated.

“I was worried.”

“But where’s Asher?”

“Asher,” Devin repeated, his eyes frosting over. “Who knows? Changing his clothes, warming up, amassing more groupies. What am I, his guardian?” He pursed his lips.

“He’s your cousin,” I said, bristling at the word
groupies
. “Shouldn’t you be more worried about him? We both could have died out there.”

Devin grimaced. “Asher can take care of himself. He doesn’t need me to worry about him.”

“Well,
I’m
worried about him—”

“He didn’t have a scratch on him, Skye—”

“Who rescued us, anyway? I—ow!” I’d tried sitting up too quickly, and pain sliced its way up my leg. I grabbed my ankle, which, despite being tightly wrapped in ACE bandages, still throbbed with pain.