Kill Me Softly (19 page)

Once upon a time, he believed he could be the exception.

He wasn't a hero; he knew that. But years ago, he and Freddie had saved a life.

They'd been inching toward thirteen, too impatient to sit qui
etly in the car while Mr. Knight dealt with some business in the bank—so they were hitting each other with toy swords, using the seat backs as shields.

But then Freddie busted a knob off the dashboard. He was try
ing to fix it while Blue played lookout, when Blue spotted the girl.

At that age, hardly any of their friends were marked. Renee had yet to become Jewel; Rafe's best claim to beastliness was an obsession with girls' bra straps. But they knew enough to recognize a curse when they saw one.

Beau Rivage was in the grip of a cold snap, and that evening, the wind blew bitterly—but the teenage girl he saw wore nothing but shorts and a thin T-shirt. She crouched in the shadows, in an alley between two buildings. every so often, there was a flicker of light before her eyes: a tiny flare that trembled and then faded, mak
ing the evening gloom seem darker by comparison.

She was freezing, likely starving—and lighting match after match, entranced by the beauty of the flame.

“Freddie!” he hissed, his heart pounding with excitement. “look. A Match Girl.”

Freddie abandoned the knob to peer through the windshield, just as another match flared. “Ohhhh!” he exclaimed. “let's help her!”

They scrambled out of the car and stopped at the mouth of the alley. This close, the girl wasn't an obvious Damsel: she didn't have the fine features of a Cinderella, whose regal bone structure would be evident even under a layer of soot. The Match Girl was dirty and desperate, her hair a greasy tangle, a sour odor emanating from her clothes.

She was marked to suffer, and then be extinguished without fanfare.

But Blue refused to let that be her destiny.

He crept closer until he was a handsbreadth away from her. He grabbed her box of matches and she gaped at him, bewildered at first—but he knew if he didn't take it, she'd keep lighting the matches until she died, too absorbed by the dancing flame to do anything else.

They helped her stand; supported her as they brought her to the car. Then Blue darted through traffic to a fast-food restaurant across the street, where he bought her dinner, and a hot chocolate, and they set forth on their quest to rehabilitate her.

The Match Girl became their pet project. They harassed Mr. Knight until he agreed to bring the girl home, where Freddie's mother ran her a bath and gave her fresh clothes, complaining only once in her overdramatic voice that if the girl had brought lice into the house, she (the sensitive Mrs. Knight) would be “done for, simply done for.”

The Knights kept the Match Girl as a lodger for a few weeks (the family's heroic legacy made it hard for them to say no) and Blue and Freddie tended to her the only way they knew how: they made pests of themselves. They drew her out of her shell with board games, staged sword fights, bad impromptu rock concerts, until she was healthier, and smiling, and no longer drawn to self-destruction like a moth to a flame.

The day they said good-bye to her was a moment of triumph for all three of them. They'd fought for her, and they'd saved her—a girl who'd been doomed by her curse; and for years afterward, Blue had clung to that memory as proof that destiny could be overcome.

He'd thought he had a chance, too. That if he was vigilant and determined, he could fight his own fate. He'd believed it with the pure heart of an idealist, a child who'd never been tested.

Now he knew better.

He wasn't a hero; wasn't anything close. He was every bit as dangerous as his curse intended him to be.

He couldn't hope to be good. All he could hope for was the strength to resist temptation—until his life flickered out like one last match.

E
VENING BLURRED INTO NIGHT
. The stars were bright above her as Mira traipsed through the foam at the edge of the beach, leaving footprints in the damp sand. Jewel, Viv, Rafe, and Blue sat farther up the beach, talking. But she couldn't hear them. All she could hear was the sea.

She'd spent the whole day with Blue and his friends, away from Felix, away from her search for her parents' graves. Secrets flowed toward her and away, like the tide. She felt like she had learned so much—and yet there was still so much she needed to know.

Where were her parents buried? What was her trigger? Who was Felix—really? And what would become of her, now that she loved him?

Maybe she would never find her parents' graves. Maybe all she could expect to find—here, or anywhere—was herself. But the one thing she hadn't expected to find was a kiss that could destroy her. A kiss that—if it hadn't ended in time—could have been her last.

She shivered all over at the memory. Both terrified and wanting it to happen again.

She hadn't expected to feel so connected to Blue either. He'd killed a girl who was in the same position she was in—young, and in love for the first time. The parallel didn't elude her. But she wasn't afraid of him—she felt bad for him. She knew what it was like to lose someone.

Stepping carefully over driftwood and broken shells, she made her way to where Freddie crouched with his two older brothers at the edge of the sea.

The Knight brothers looked remarkably similar, except for their coloring and their expressions. All three had their pants rolled up to their knees. One brother, whose face was even more guileless than Freddie's, waded into the water, humming a little under his breath as he went.

Mira sat down on the piece of driftwood they were using as a bench, and Freddie introduced her. His oldest brother, who had dark brown hair and a smug air about him, was Wills; the boy already waist-deep in the ocean, sort of floundering in the waves, was Caspian. His hair was as black as the water at night.

“What's he doing?” she asked, meaning Caspian.

“Oh.” Freddie sighed. “Tempting fate. He can't swim very well.”

Wills smiled. He was squatting in the sand, watching the waves. “He was in a boat accident a while back. Fell overboard during a moonlight cruise on prom night, hit his head, and went under. He woke up on the shore, with a beautiful girl singing to him, and …”

“Let me guess. Mermaid?” Mira said.

Wills nodded. “That's what he thinks. He wants to see her again, but he isn't sure how to find her. So …” He motioned to Caspian, who was splashing around, the water up to his chest now.

“You can't trust mermaids,” Freddie grumbled. “They'll drown you as soon as they'll save you. It all depends on their temperament. Most of them don't like humans.”

“Since when are you anything less than the spokesperson for fated romance?” Wills asked with a cocked eyebrow. He glanced at Mira. “Something go sour between you two?”

Freddie bowed his head, concentrated on dragging a stick through the sand. “No. Just … you know. Mermaids.”

“Uh-huh,” Wills said. The corner of his mouth crept up. Mira felt awkward, and oddly exposed. It was weird how they all seemed to know what was going on. Everyone here was so well schooled in curses—not to mention the drama that went with them.

“So are you all Honor-bound?” Mira asked.

“We're mostly Honor-bound,” Wills said. “Although the only curse I'm meant to break is the curse of poverty and servitude. Cinderella,” he explained. “Still waiting for ‘the one' to show up at one of the family galas in a secondhand party dress. Once she's done cleaning chimneys for the day. She'll be pretty and sweet … I just pray she knows how to read.”

“Don't be callous,” Freddie said. “Maybe she's been working too hard to learn how to read. You could always teach her.”

Wills stretched out on the sand. “I'm too lazy for that. She'll have to draw pictures. At least to write the grocery list.”

Freddie sighed, and Wills laughed—then settled his head on his crossed arms. “You're too uptight, Freddie. You have your girl here; you won't have to go on a road trip searching for an overgrown briar patch. It's time to relax.”

“I'm
very
relaxed,” Freddie protested. “Usually …”

“He doesn't have me,” Mira said.

Wills lifted his head, a look of surprise on his face. “No?”

“My mark doesn't brand me as Freddie's. It just says that he serves a purpose in my life.”

“You're a
feminist
,” Wills said, like that explained everything.

“I'm a
person
,” she said.

Wills shrugged. “Call it what you want.”

Freddie got up, undid the buttons on his shirt, and threw it onto the sand before treading dutifully into the water. He grabbed Caspian in a bear hug from behind and hauled him up the beach. “That's enough for tonight,” he told his shivering brother.

Caspian blinked his big, limpid eyes. Water dribbled from his soaked clothes and into the sand. “She didn't come. Do you think I imagined her?”

“You'll see her again eventually,” Freddie said. “But I don't think drowning yourself is a good plan. Let's get you dried off.” He put his arm around Caspian and led him toward Blue and the others. And since it was either follow them or be left behind with Wills, Mira followed.

“Does anyone have a towel?” Freddie asked.

Rafe, Blue, Viv, and Jewel were sitting around an open cooler, bottles of beer jammed into the sand in front of them. Jewel had gathered her long T-shirt into a pouch and was storing stray gems in it.

“I have a blanket in the back of my van,” Rafe said. “And a mattress, if anyone needs it.”

“Really?” Blue said. “Because I was looking for a van to have sex in.”

“Uh … sorry, buddy.” Rafe clapped Blue on the shoulder, wincing slightly. “It's available to everyone but you. It's not cool to leave dead bodies back there. You understand.”

“I was being sarcastic, but thanks for that.” Blue stood up with his fists at his sides, agitated. Then he stalked away toward the parking lot.

Jewel picked a gem from her lap and pinged it off Rafe's broad forehead. “God, Wilder, could you be any stupider?”

Rafe rubbed the sore spot. “How am I supposed to know when he's kidding?”

“Like he'd be
serious
about that?” Viv said.

Rafe shrugged, blowing it off, then tossed his keys to Caspian. “Dry off, man; a blanket is better than nothing.”

“Is it … contaminated?” Freddie asked.

Rafe gave Freddie a dirty look, and Viv rolled her eyes and said, “Since when does Rafe make it back to the van in time?”

“This is my booze,” Rafe reminded them. “Watch it or you bitches are getting cut off.”

Mira grabbed a beer out of the cooler—a beer she didn't even want—just out of spite, and followed Freddie and Caspian to the parking lot. Blue was there when they climbed over the last sandy ridge.

Caspian opened the back of Rafe's van apprehensively, like he expected to find a girl handcuffed inside. When he saw it was empty, he relaxed, and tugged the blanket out to wrap it around his shivering frame.

Freddie went over to Blue. They spoke in low voices that didn't carry over the wind. Mira sat down on the hood of Viv's candy-apple red sports car. She busied herself trying to twist the cap off the beer bottle while she watched them. The metal ridges dug into her palm. Blue kept shaking his head; Freddie was leaning in, insisting on something, his face earnest and intense; and finally, the bottle cap went flying and beer sudsed up and spilled onto her lap. Mira shrieked and flung the bottle away from her, shaking foam from her hands.

“Can't handle your alcohol, Mira?” Blue called over.

“I didn't expect it to go everywhere! Now I smell like beer.”

“It could be worse,” Blue said. “You could smell like Rafe's sex life, like Caspian does.” Poor Caspian was huddled in the blanket, staring longingly out to sea, oblivious to their conversation.

“That was low,” Freddie said, hiding a grin.

Blue shrugged. “So what did you want, Mira? Are you our third musketeer? Or just having second thoughts about Freddie?”

She watched him, wondering at her own reaction as she did. After what she'd learned about Blue—what he could do, what he'd already done—she felt like she should have been wary of him. But she wasn't. Instead, her defenses were lowering.

She could see the prickly outside, but now she recognized the wounded heart underneath. And she found herself trusting him, worrying about him. Looking at him like a friend. A friend who needed her, maybe …

“You were upset,” she said. “I thought maybe I could help. I don't know. Isn't that what people do when they're not assholes?”

“You expect me to know?” Blue asked. But he was smiling now.

“Come over here so I can wipe my hands on your shirt,” she said, holding up her beer-sticky hands. Eyebrows raised in amusement, Blue did as she asked. He stood between her legs at the front of the car, his knees against the bumper.

“Go for it,” he said.

Her wet fingers grazed the muscle of his abdomen as she fumbled to dry her hands on his T-shirt. Blue sucked in a breath when her hands brushed his skin, and something electric ran through her. A flush burned her cheeks. She made herself focus on the artwork on his T-shirt.

“Now the ick is on you, where it belongs,” she said.

“You are a very nasty princess,” Blue said.

“Are you flirting with me?”

He shrugged. “Probably. Is it working?”

“Not at all,” she assured him. “Being told I'm nasty doesn't do it for me.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you.” He grabbed her sticky hands and tugged her off the hood. “Should we get out of here before Viv shows up and wants to know who spilled beer on her car?”

Mira nodded. “Sure. Where are we going?”

“Casa del Knight,” Blue said.

“We have a pool,” Freddie said, as if that would sweeten the deal.

“A pool that Rafe has never had sex in,” Blue said.

“That's what makes it different from Rafe's pool,” Freddie explained.

Mira grimaced. “One day, you guys will have to tell me
why
you're even friends with Rafe. But not today. I'll give you time to do some soul-searching first.”

“Thanks,” Blue said. “We appreciate that.”

“Caspian, come on!” Freddie called, waving him over. “And don't bring that blanket.”

“It's easy—like this,” Mira said, lying on her back in the Knights' pool, letting the water support her, and showing Caspian how to float. She was trying to teach him to swim. For someone determined to find a mermaid, she figured it could only help.

Caspian clung to the side of the pool. “I don't know, Mira. I don't think my body is designed to do that.”

“Everyone can float,” she said, pulling on his arm. “Do you want to find your mermaid or not?”

“All right,” he said with a sigh. He made a gulping sound—and then he let go and immediately began to sink.

“Just relax,” Mira tried. “Lie on your back and—”

It would have helped to grab him and support him, turn him onto his back manually, like swim coaches did for little kids. But touching a guy's wet, bare skin seemed too intimate, if you weren't flirting. If you didn't hope to be touched back.

“Um, or we could try treading water,” she said. She demonstrated, pedaling her legs, moving her arms a little.

Caspian's wide gray eyes blinked nervously as his limbs wavered underwater. He was cute, like Freddie, but he veered even further toward adorable. It wasn't hard to picture him falling off a boat. In a prom tuxedo, no less.

“Your hair flows out like a mermaid's,” Caspian said.

Mira glanced to the side, took stock of the dark gold waves floating on the water. “I guess it does.”

“Only it's lighter,” Caspian said. “Mermaids have dark hair. Well. The one mermaid I saw did. If she really was a mermaid. I guess she could just be a girl who hangs out in the ocean, waiting for shipwrecks.”

“I think that's even less likely,” Mira said.

Caspian smiled, his whole face brightening. His arms were moving more smoothly through the water now. “That's why I think it has to be true. That a mermaid saved me. Her voice was so beautiful….”

The look on his face was clearly
love
. He'd transformed from sad to smitten in an instant.

It was strange, seeing all these romantics in their different incarnations. There were regular romantics, like Freddie and Caspian: boys who got lost in daydreams, like she did. Then there were cursed Romantics, who were easy to fall for, who loved love and stole love. Love was what they needed to survive.