When Stars Die (The Stars Trilogy) (19 page)

The fire, carried by dust, spreads from the stack of books, to another stack, to the curtains on the window, to more books, and eats up everything flammable. I turn away from the scene and bolt without looking back.

Chapter Eighteen

My doll barely survived the fire. Her hands are melted nubs, and her head is almost bald, patches of golden hair sticking out that make her head look like it’s been through a grinder. The irony of her appearance is almost too sickening. Just when I thought I’d be able to re-claim Colette’s pure image, Theosodore comes along and ruins her. But I can’t throw her away. I can only hold on to her because at least this version of Colette is in no danger of spouting off scary things or convulsing or turning into a Shadowman and running off. I will store her in my armoire…for good.

Father suspects the fire in the library was an accident: a fallen taper, static electricity mixed with old, dry books. The reasons don’t matter. He will never suspect it was me. As for Theosodore, he left to Deus knows where. I have no worries about his wanting to accuse me of being a witch. The only satisfaction he’ll get is my potential execution, but he isn’t that vindictive, I don’t believe. Even if he is, the energy to care has been lost on me. He didn’t hurt me, after all. I am still alive and pure. I’ve suffered worse than almost being ravished

Right now, all that matters is Oliver. He consumes my thoughts: his wintry smell, those gray eyes that make me think of a sky flushed with lightning, his droopy bangs that make me think of a raven’s feathers. I think to tell him about Theosodore and what he tried to do to me and ask Oliver what his motives are, but I think better of it. He seems to have his own troubles. I shouldn’t confound them by giving him another Shadowman to worry about.

In my room, I brush my hair and put it in a tight braid. I scrub my face free of sweat and soot, and I dab my skin with rose water. I dress in my best nightgown and twirl in the mirror of my vanity. The girl looking back at me is no porcelain doll, but she will have to do. Oliver must see something in me, so I don’t feel like I’ll need to try too hard to look appealing to his eyes.

I go over to my window, and find Oliver looking up with a tired smile on his face. I gesture him to the back, then rush downstairs to fetch him. When I throw open the door, I leap into his arms for a much-needed embrace. Then before he can even react, I shove him against the wall and press my lips to his, inhaling the sweet winter of his being. I pull away, delicious heat flooding my body that pushes out any bit of stress that might have been coiling in me.

Oliver lets out a slight laugh. “Aren’t you going to take me to your room first? Do you really want to kiss me in a foyer, and a dark one at that?” He stifles a sneeze. “And dusty. Not terribly romantic, Amelia.”

I close my eyes, sighing. “It’s been a long day, Olly. Come, come.” I lace my fingers through his and take him upstairs.

As I bring him upstairs, my insecurities start assaulting my mind. Is my room clean enough for him? Will my bed be comfortable? Why did I not decide to speak with him in the parlor instead? What was I thinking when I chose my bedroom? A lady being alone with a man, especially in her bedroom, is beyond scandalous. Suggesting my bedroom so flippantly is not who I’m supposed to be. Then again, I have changed. I kiss Oliver without shame. I think about that dream without shame. I can share my bedroom with him without shame. I can even let him sleep in my bed with me without shame, and I want him to. I desperately want him to.

“Welcome to my cozy little cocoon,” I say, opening my door.

Oliver steps in and runs a finger down the champagne-colored wallpaper with white fleur-de-lis. “I quite like the antique charm of this room. In fact, I like this room period. Far better than the tiny cells the Professed Order provides its members with. You never mentioned, but will I be staying the night?” He goes over to my bed and lays his lean body across it. He presses himself against the mattress, sighs, and closes his eyes with a smile. His body looks so inviting that I want to go over and drape myself across him. “It would be quite welcoming, if you don’t mind. I’m tired of hotel rooms.”

I approach my bed and lay down on my side, facing him. “If it’s not too brazen of me, I’d love for you to stay the night.”

Oliver pushes his face close to mine. “You can never be too brazen with me.” He touches the bottom of my chin with two fingers, tilts it, and gives me a light kiss.

He goes to pull away, but I bring his lips back to mine, spreading my fingers against his shoulder blades. I then drape my leg over him and entwine my body with his. Oliver feels fragile and cold in my arms. Most girls would find this unattractive; however, his fragility makes me want to cradle him since I feel like I can use my body heat to protect him. For once I feel strong, and I want to be strong with him. I don’t want to be something made of glass that needs constant coddling.

He sighs, his lips against my forehead. “You’re so warm.” He runs his hand down the side of my face, grabs my braid, and slowly undoes it with his fingers. “I miss being this warm. You have no idea how much I miss being human. Even after so long being a Shadowman, I cannot get used to this cold feeling.”

My voice comes out breathy. “How long have you been one?”

His voice comes out as a light whisper that sends an electrical shiver down my spine. “Too long.”

A slight gasp escapes my lips. I can feel his hardness pressing against me. Part of me wants to explore that side of him, while another part of me chides myself for wanting to take his little visit so far already. I sit up, pulling in deep breaths to cool myself down.

He circles my thigh and looks at me with eyes full of want. “Did I do something wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong at all, Olly, but you know I have questions for you about the Shadowmen. I hate having to ruin this moment, but if we don’t talk about this, we never will.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Disappointment shades his voice, making me feel guilty. “Well, what do you want to know?”

The questions are already at the cusp of my mind. I have mulled over them since leaving the park. “I want to know about Purgatory, I want to know more about those Shadowmen, and I want to know what they want with witches.”

Oliver sits up, pulling his long legs to his chest. “There’s not much to say about Purgatory. I haven’t even seen the man myself. I suspect you already know he is the leader of the Shadowmen Alliance. But I frankly don’t know much beyond that, or why he would have an interest in you.” A suggestive smile overtakes his face. “Unless he finds you as beautiful as I do and wants you just as badly as I want you right now.”

Oliver puts his hands on my waist. “Olly, we can’t--”

He moans and presses cool lips against the side of my neck. “I wouldn’t blame him for wanting you.”

My jaw drops, and I shake my head at the thought, pulling myself away from Oliver. “No, Olly. Don’t even joke about that. Purgatory wants me unharmed. Asch even said he has a keen interest in me.” I pause, a revelation alighting my mind. “How would this Purgatory know about me in the first place?”

Oliver reaches over and starts playing with strands of my hair. “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t be surprised if all those Shadowmen, mostly the men, would want something to do with you.”

I can tell Oliver doesn’t want to talk, and I suppose I can’t blame him. Talking about a part of himself he seems ashamed of must be difficult. I have to know this though, because I was spared and Colette wasn’t. There is something special Purgatory must see in me, and I must know what it is to protect myself.

I stay his hand and put it by his side. Disappointment passes through his eyes but is gone in an instant with a look from me. “I need to know, Olly. Asch mentioned Maladies. Start with those.”

“Maladies…” Bitterness creeps into his voice. “They’re these horrid, dreaded things Deus uses to remind us where we stand. Because each Shadowman has special abilities specific to his or her greatest strengths in life, Deus reminds us that being a Shadowman is not a luxury by also cursing us with Malad
ies. My ability is that I can control nature because it is something I adored in life. But my Malady is that I desire too much. This might not seem much because human beings desire something every day, but in life, I desired so hard I sacrificed who I was. Amelia, I would have murdered to get what I wanted. Now that desire has been compounded ten times as a Shadowman.”

“What do you desire now? Would you kill for it?”

Oliver sits up straighter and looks in the direction of my vanity. “Now that I have you, I feel like my desires are satiated, but Maladies are never-ending. I have no doubt I will desire something new in the coming days, whatever that may be. I don’t wish to think about it.” He falls silent, and I decide not to push him further on Maladies.

Then I wonder what my Malady would be? My greatest weakness is self-doubt, I believe. My greatest strength would be the undying love I have for my little brother. I wonder how those will translate when I find myself transforming into a Shadowman. And I wonder what Colette’s abilities and her Malady are.

I sit closer to Oliver until our thighs touch. “I think it would be amazing to be able to control nature,” I say, trying to lighten his mood. “What can you do, Olly? Oh, please show me!”

A smile replaces his dour mood, and he is up and at the window in no time. He gestures me over. “This window ledge has all the ingredients I need,” Oliver says, pointing at the snow that crusts it.

“What could you possibly do with that?”

Oliver moves some of the snow aside, revealing a layer of soil beneath. He passes a hand over the soil, and before my eyes, a Winter Daphne, with a rich white-pink coloring, climbs four feet tall, leaning dangerously over the ledge. He tears the flower by the stem and presents it to me with a flourish. Its sweet perfume assaults my nose, bringing a light heat to my cheeks. I accept the flower.

“As long as all the ingredients are there, I can make things happen. I can make roses bloom in the freezing winter, so long as healthy seeds are there, and I can make trees dance, if I want to. But I don’t use it often.”

I keep staring at the flower, this little miracle Oliver created with magic I couldn’t even see. The beauty of his power makes me feel even more strongly for him. He must have been a beautiful person in life. I want to tell him I wished I could have known him before he died, but I suppose it doesn’t matter now. Whether or not Oliver is a Shadowman, he is here and fully alive to me. “Olly, this is wonderful. Is this how you care for the plants in the greenhouse?”

He nods. “But I don’t use it often. I don’t want anyone suspecting anything. There were so many times when I felt tempted to make the plum trees blossom in the dead of winter. They’re so ugly otherwise.”

I brush my fingers over the delicate petals, still in disbelief that Oliver can do this. I carefully bring it over to one of my rosewater bowls and gently set the flower in. The scent in my room is now intoxicating, both roses and Winter Daphne mingling to form a perfume that I wish I could buy at a boutique.

The mood grows somber again, so I turn away from the flower. “Now what do those Shadowmen want with witches?”

Oliver stares out the window, an elbow resting on the sill. “I am not entirely certain, but I think they’re gathering witches to get revenge on those who harmed them in life, which would be all those who aren’t witches. By gathering witches, they can turn them into Shadowmen, thus swelling their ranks.”

I go over to Oliver and look out the window as well, my eyes locked on the silvery moon that sits high and is enormous in the wintry sky. “Then it makes sense why they took the blood of that girl, because now they can find witches without any effort just by taking on the appearance of a human. Olly, when we were on the train, did you see that vision?”

He shakes his head, giving me a curt “No.”

“When we were on the train, you pushed me away, like you didn’t want me to see something.”

Without warning, Oliver grabs my upper arms and pins me against the wall with his lips. My eyelids flutter close, lost in his kiss that tastes like fresh snow. He pulls away, his lips gently nibbling my ear lobe. His breath is cool against me. “Don’t you worry about anything, Amelia. Let me do all the worrying. I doubt these Shadowmen will want anything to do with you, but I will spy on them and find a way to stop them. Not all Shadowmen want what they want. They are, after all, a small group, easily dismantled.”

He kisses me again, turning me around and gently pushing me back until I’m on the bed. He hovers over me, his lips still pressed to mine. I don’t know how long we kiss, but I have forgotten anything else I wanted to ask him. When he pulls away, his face a faint red and both of us gasping, he turns on his side and traces circles on my stomach. This simple touch sends pleasant shivers through me that make me want to do more.

“Olly,” I say, “you haven’t told me everything.”

“What haven’t I told you?”

“You haven’t told me what made you a Shadowman. I know it’s really personal, Olly, but I want to know everything about you, even the uncomfortable parts, so that way you never have a reason to feel alone.”

Oliver pulls me to him, resting my head in the crook of his arm. “As long as I’m with you, I’ll never feel alone.”

I look him full in the face. “Are you going to tell me then?”