Noir (24 page)

“Well, that’s not possible, we know what’s above this. We’ve just come from there.”

“But what if . . .”

“What if what?”

Her eyes have that same gleam in them they did the day we stood at the edge of the smoky black ravine, watching the workers dump factory scraps into Embers—where she made mention of a fantastical floating world. “You don’t think you’re seeing—”

“It’s likely nothing,” she says weakly, as if she’s afraid to spill her thoughts aloud. Or is it that she’s afraid of what she’s seeing? Funny, her cheeks have suddenly flushed. “It’s like you said, we don’t know how deep the water is, I’d better get back.”

I’m about to protest when she starts jumping toward me over the slippery stones. My heart lodges in my throat when she catches a heel and shoots forward, arms floundering. At last, to my relief, she reaches the shoreline opposite me.

“Come over here,” she signals, grinning. As if I’m about to retrace
her
steps. “There’s more room than over there, and it’s drier.” She insists. “Come
onnnnn
, Urlick.”

“Very well, then . . .” I swallow down the glob of fright that clogs my throat, and I start the tedious journey over. I slip on some craggy moss and taste my heart, I swear, before my boots right themselves and I catch my balance again. Eyelet finds this deliciously amusing, apparently. She’s so much better at this stuff than me. I really should just stay in the laboratory.

I start hopping again and stop halfway.

“What is it?” Eyelet gasps.

“The earth.” I look up. “It’s no longer moving. It hasn’t moved in a while now. Whatever was happening, it must be over.”
And her breathing has gotten much better, too.

“You’re right,” Eyelet says, staring up at the ceiling. “Must be.”

“We could probably go back up, if you want.” I leap the final stone, landing awkwardly on the shore next to her. “What?”

Her eyes slink over the outline of my body, quantifying my every movement.

“What are you looking at?” I say.

“Nothing.” She grins, and all at once I’m incapacitated, unable to think or move . . . or breathe. Am I breathing? What is that look in her eyes?

“If it’s nothing, why the funny
face?” I say.

“What face?” The corner of her sweet mouth lifts as she speaks, and I know something’s afoot. Standing there in that ray of light, she’s never looked so beautiful—so intoxicatingly beautiful. I shift my weight, and I swear her eyes snap up from my groin.

She folds her arms, and her breasts bubble up against the lace of her chemise. They scream for attention—not that I’m giving them any.

All right, maybe a little.

Oh, good Lord in Heaven, girl, have mercy, do not
hug
yourself.

I avert my eyes in an attempt to calm things down, but it’s no use; things have begun to sprout. I fidget, trying to conceal my hidden yet obviously growing interest in her.

Praying it stays hidden.

“Do I look funny to you?” She slinks toward me, thrusting her hips out in front of her, breasts again
titillating
. . . I mean, tussling. “What’s the matter? Don’t you like my affections?” She clutches the lapels of my suit coat and pulls me to her.

“I would
not
say that is the reaction. No.” I gasp in some badly needed air.

She snuggles even closer.

“It’s hot down here, isn’t it?” I tug at my shirt collar. “Are you warm?”

“Very.” She moves her hands to my face.

“If it is a rise you’re trying to get out of me, you’re succeeding.” I swallow.

“Good,” she says, dragging her fingernail down and around the side of my chin. “I was hoping that would be your reaction.”

All at once, every molecule in my body heats up, then screams, then turns to burning ice within seconds. An exhilarating, yet excruciatingly painful experience, I must say—especially in my brain . . . and my lower half.

She presses in even closer against the development. “Is there something troubling you I should know about?” She frowns up at me.

“I should think if you keep on this way, you shall know about it very soon.”

She giggles.

Then, like a minx, she drops her eyes to my groin again, slowly, dragging her steamy gaze up my front, tugging upward along with it the apparatus I’ve been so desperately trying to keep hidden in my britches. “Are you having fun?” I ask, my heart a stumbling machine in my chest.

“Yes, very much so.” She darts forward, sucking my bottom lip into her mouth, and I nearly break apart at the seams. “I should think I could be having more fun, though,” she purrs, walking her fingers provocatively up the front of my chest.

“Miss Elsworth.” I pull back, astonished. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you’ve learned a thing or two from your roommate back in the Brink.”

“Maybe I have.” She grins. “Is that a problem?”

She arcs her brows in a provocative way, and my heart trips in my chest.

“You are suddenly full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“You’ve not even discovered the half of them.”

She takes my lips into her mouth before I can object . . . not that I would,
ever
. . . unbuttoning my shirt and loosening my ascot at whip speed, her cool fingers slipping in underneath. “What is all this?” I gasp through her kisses.

“If you have to ask, I fear it’s not going to be very fun, now is it?”

Did she? Is she? That was a proposal . . .

“You mean you want—?” I blush.

She pulls away. “Can you think of a more beautiful place for it to happen?”

She touches me again and my skin pulses alive.
I am coals, she is fire.

Launching up on her toes, she kisses me hard before I have the chance to properly answer. Her warm cinnamon tongue darts in and out of my mouth, and something primal inside me takes over.

The next thing I know, I’m bending her backward, almost throwing her to the ground, lowering myself down overtop. Eyelet reaches up, stripping the drawstring from my britches, fervently kissing me. My heart convulses like gunfire in my chest.

I pull back, gaining my wits about me. “Are you sure about this?” My arms tremble.

“
Why?
Don’t you want me?” Her bosoms heave. There’s hurt in her eyes.

“Of course I want you, it’s just . . . don’t you want to wait, until, say . . . we can properly marry?”

She furrows her brows, snapping up onto her elbows beneath me so quickly we nearly clash heads. “Who will marry us, Urlick?” Her voice falters. “Where will we ever be married? In what universe would that ever be possible? You, the way you are, and me, the way I . . .” She swallows down the end of her sentence. Tears fill her eyes.

A piece of my heart shatters, knowing she’s right. There will be no church wedding for us. No celebration of sacrament. We have no choice but to live our lives out as sinners. Any children we bear will be born bastards. Unrecognized, unaccepted . . .

If we manage to live through all of this.

“Don’t you see?” She cups my face in her hands, her fingers cold and shaking. “All we have—
all we’ll ever have
, you and I, is the moment we live in. This very moment. Nothing more. For us, nothing else is guaranteed.

“I want this moment, Urlick, please don’t take it from me . . .

I want to experience this.

To experience you.

To experience real love. Just this once.

I may never have another chance.

We
may never have another chance.

Please, Urlick, give me this moment.”

I stare down at her, staring up at me, the forlorn, loving look in her eyes. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than this moment.

“Of course, Eyelet,” I whisper, dropping down and kissing her tears away. “I give you this moment, along with my heart.”

She pulls me closer, guiding me between her legs, boldly stroking my back. I clasp her thigh, coating her face and neck in a tender trail of affectionate kisses, as I drive her skirts upward and work her stockings down.

Fo
rty-Two

Eyelet

I wake, groggy from sleep, the most blissful sleep I’ve ever enjoyed, my heart still racing, blood rushing through me, tingling delicate parts of me. A warm campfire burns deep in my belly.

Urlick lies asleep beside me, peacefully sleeping, a garden of temptation. The muscles of his stomach drift gracefully up and down between his ribs, calling my fingers to touch them.
Oh,
how I love this man, from his artistically marred face, to his boysenberry lips, down to his ghostly white toes. I close my eyes, remembering last evening, how cautious a lover he was with me, gentle and considerate, yet at the same time voraciously hungry—as desperate to experience me as I was him.

And now that I have done so, I don’t believe I’ll ever be able to get enough.

I sigh, lying back against the cool earth, staring dreamily up at the stalactites, listening to the placid
drip, drip, drip
of their ongoing creation—hoping to stave off the unholy thoughts of wanting Urlick that will not leave my head—to quash the pang of throbbing desire still pulsing between my legs.

I understand, now, Livinea’s line of thinking. How she can be so obsessed with such unthinkable things. A taste of this could drive anyone to hysteria.

Oh, good Lord, stop thinking.

I roll over and back.

He stirs and sighs a gentle sigh, and I reach over, running a finger over first his scar and then his lips, giggling when he flinches but does not wake. From there I trace the thick muscles of his shoulder, watching them shudder at my touch, feeling the heat of him rise through his skin. The veins of his forearms stand taut and raised. Such power this body holds. Such magic and mystery.

I lean forward, pressing a kiss to his lips, no longer able to stop myself. I want him. I want him again. He moans, softly objecting before his eyes flutter open and he realizes it’s me who’s pestering him.

“Thought you could tease me while I slept, did you?” He pulls me into his arms and rolls, me shrieking and laughing, until we’ve switched positions and he’s on top of me.

“Don’t be silly, what fun would that be?”

He kisses the end of my nose. Then he scoops me up, pressing me tight to his chest, and envelops me in a long, hard, passionate kiss.

A flurry of moths beat lustful wings inside my chest.

Is this going to happen every time now?

He threads his fingers through mine, our hands pressed to the ground. My body is charged by his touch.

“What time is it?” He flips my wrist over to check my chrono-cuff. “Half past ten.” His eyes lift, streaked in a blaze of panic. “The others are going to wonder what happened to us. We’d better get going.”

I nod and lurch to get up, but he catches me, my face in his hands, and kisses me again. This time, it’s as if all that is sweet in the world is my lips and he can’t get enough of them. I join in his quest, thirsty for more—the roll of his breath, the touch of his skin, the essences of him again, inside me.

“Yeah, now we’d
really
better get going.” He pulls himself away from me, swiping his brow. His cheeks red as passionate apples.

I lower my gaze, afraid he’ll read the shameful spark of desire still burning in
my
eyes.

“Everything all right?” he asks.

“Yeah.” I smile at him over my shoulder. “A little
too
all right.”

He laughs.

I reach for my cast-off corset and duck my head inside the light fabric of my chemise. Its cool fibers rake over the ends of my nipples, sending a chill down my spine. I bite my lip, remembering things. Urlick’s hands all over me.

One by one, I fasten the buckles down the front of my corset and tug the drawstrings in back.

“Need help?” Urlick asks hesitantly, watching me struggle.

“It’s all right.” I smile. “I can get it.” I’m afraid to let him touch me again, for fear we never leave this place. If I had my way, we never would.

I look around at the blue-green waters, at the light shimmering off the tapering stalactites, and I want to stay in this place, inside this moment, forever.

A tear warms my eye, and I push it away.

“You’re sure you’re all right?” Urlick turns to me.

“I’m fine, really.” I launch to my feet, donning the gas mask to hide my emotions. “As you said, we’d better get going.”

Urlick stands and strides toward me, a lean, agile panther. He lifts my chin, slides the gas mask down, and brings his forehead to rest on mine. “No matter what happens.” He stares into my eyes. “We will always have this moment. No one can ever take that away from us.”

I smile and press my head harder against his. “You’re right,” I say. “It’ll be ours forever.”

He kisses me, leaving me breathless.

“How about I go first.” He leans back, still clutching my arms. “Seems to have worked out nicely last time.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” I smirk and pull away. “I’m sure I could have handled it.”

I roll my eyes and he cuffs me on the bottom, causing me to yelp, then reaches for the rusty rungs and hoists himself up on the ladder, taking slow stock of me one last time before he starts to climb.

I suck in a breath, etching the beauty of the cavern and our moments here together deep into my memory—then follow.

Fo
rty-Three

Eyelet

Urlick throws back the door at the top of the shaft and gives me a hand up out of the hole. I jump to my feet, blinking at the dull, grey hideousness of the forest, all draped in fog. How I long to go back to the beauty beneath. I look down at it over my shoulder with longing.

“Clementine!” Urlick shouts. She stands in the clearing, gas mask half-on, half-off, hoses unhooked, her wings wildly off-kilter. “You’ve come back.”

Clementine paws the ground.

Urlick strides firmly toward her. “You’d think she had a night like we had.” He looks slyly back at me over his shoulder and winks.

I laugh. “Not quite so lucky, I’m sure.” I smile, and something wild stirs in my belly.

A black blotch appears through the trees, driving toward us, cutting through the air like a blade. My heart takes a tumble at my ribs. Urlick goes for the knife in his boot and throws himself in front of me.

“No, wait.” I push him aside, squinting. “I think I know what it is.” The black smudge dips down below the cloud cover, swooping through the trees. “Pan!” I shout. “Is that you?” I race toward her, my eyes welling with tears. Her beak cuts a bloodred seam through the murky forest, drawing closer. “Mother!” I call to her.

“Mother?” Urlick frowns, shooting me a confused look.

Pan flutters past, cawing. Tears flood from my eyes as she circles my head. “I thought you were dead. I thought that guard had killed you.” I reach out to her, trembling.

She lands on my shoulder and nuzzles my chin. “I was only stunned, thankfully,” she jabbers in broken speech.

Urlick falls back on his heels.

“I tried, but I couldn’t find you when I came around. You were nowhere to be found.” She flaps.

“It’s all right. You’re here now.” I cuddle closer to her. “We’re here! Together!”

“Mother?” Urlick repeats again.

“It’s a long story,” I turn and say to him.

“Go on.” Urlick moves his hand in a circle, urging me to elaborate.

“Well, I guess eventually you’ll have to know, so . . .” I swallow. “Urlick, Pan is actually my mother.”

“She’s wha—?” The news nearly knocks him from his feet.

“Rather, my mother is actually Pan, or whichever way you want to take it.”

Urlick’s mouth falls open. He gasps for air. “How is that possible?”

“You remember that thing called magic you didn’t believe in? Well . . .” I jerk my head. “Suffice it to say . . . it is as I tried to tell you, back when she first appeared at the Academy: sometimes magic trumps logic. Especially when love is involved.” I look at Mother, and she flashes her eyes at me.

Urlick looks to me, then to Mother, confusion in his eyes.

“You see . . . as Mother lay dying, Pan made a choice to die in her place, so that Mother could live on, to be with me. It was a selfless act on Pan’s part—made possible because she was a—”

“Valkyrie?” Urlick fills in the blank. “Pan was a Valkyrie . . . your mother is now . . .”

“A Valkyrie. That’s right,” Pan says. “Now you’re getting it.”

She lifts off, circling me, then lands gently on Urlick’s shoulder. “But that’s not why I’ve come.” She caws, loudly. “There is another reason.”

“What is it?” I say. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m afraid so, yes.”

“What’s happened?” Urlick turns.

“It’s Iris.” She caws. “C.L. sent me. They’ve taken her.”