Мэгги Стифватер - Lament

• Название: Lament
• Автор: Мэгги Стифватер
• Жанр: Фэнтези

ixteen-year-old Deirdre Monaghan is a painfully shy but prodigiously gifted musician. She's about to find out she's also a cloverhand—one who can see faeries. When a mysterious boy enters her ordinary suburban life, seemingly out of nowhere, Deirdre finds herself infatuated. Trouble is, the enigmatic and conflicted Luke turns out to be a gallowglass—a soulless faerie assassin—and Deirdre is meant to be his next mark. Deirdre has to decide if Luke's feelings towards her are real, or only a way to lure her deeper into the world of Faerie.

---

You're pretty as pretty today."

My cheeks warmed. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged with a smile. "Satisfying my curiosity." His pale blue eyes dropped to the clover still in my fingers, and somehow he lost his smile. "Where did you get that?"

"My mom found it. Aren't they supposed to bring good luck?"

"And other things." Luke gestured at Rye. "This beast yours?"

His tone was affectionate, though Rye gave him no reason to be--he was still crouched in the grass, hair spiked stiffly on his shoulders.

"Rye. Yeah. He's ancient. We've had him as long as I can remember, but I don't think I've ever seen him like this."

"He looks like a good dog." Luke's face was turned from me as he said it, but his voice sounded wistful. "Like a clever dog."

"He is."

We both started at the sound of the kitchen door opening. Delia called out, "Why don't you both come inside? It's hot out there!" An interrogation session was clearly in the making.

Before I could reply, Luke shouted, "Back in an hour! We're getting ice cream!"

I looked at him intently.

"You wanted saving, didn't you?" he said.

I didn't know how to reply. I'd never had any real experience with boys in high school, and I had a feeling that even if I'd had, none of it would have applied to Luke Dillon.

Luke took out his keys--no key fob, I noticed, but plenty of keys. Fifteen or twenty of them. My own key ring had two keys and a fob shaped like a fish. I wondered if your key ring said something about you.

"Let me go get my money," I said finally.

Luke opened the passenger side door for me. "I'm buying. Sorry about the car. It looks bad, but the fumes usually stay on the outside."

I hesitated for just a minute before getting into the old Audi. Inside the car it was hot and airless, despite the fact that Luke had only just gotten out of it, and the seats were of the soft, blue, fuzzy variety that I remembered from all of my grandmother's cars. It smelled like Luke inside; the same smell I remembered when he leaned close yesterday. The memory sent another prickling through my stomach.

Luke climbed into the other side of the car and turned knobs and hit buttons as deftly as he'd played the flute; soon, cool air was wafting from the vents. It reminded me of the four-leaf clover, fluttering into my hand earlier. I shivered.

"Too cold?" He turned it down and, as if reading my thoughts, looked at the four-leaf clover I still held. "You don't need that."

As he backed out of the driveway, I set the clover on the dash and looked at it. "Everyone needs good luck."

"Not you, Dee. You manage it all by yourself. Quite impressively." He paused at the end of the driveway, rolled down the window, and flung the clover into the road. "Where's a good place to get ice cream?"

"You're chucking my luck," I said. "And actually, I work at an ice cream shop."

"Sweet!" Luke paused. "Too cheesy?"

I laughed, too late. "I didn't realize you were trying to be funny."

Luke groaned as he turned right out of the driveway. "You wound me deeply with your careless words: 'Trying to e.

I grinned at him. "You'll just have to try harder." "Duly noted. Now, how do I get to this place?"

"You're heading the right way already. It's about a mile up here, on the left. Dave's Ice." But you knew that already, didn't you? I looked hard at him, and he looked back at me with an equally intent look before turning his eyes to the road.

"I thought I remembered seeing it when I came in," he said. "I remember thinking it was an ice cream day."

Of course it was an ice cream day. Why shouldn't it be? It struck me that we'd come to a strange unspoken agreement. He pretended to be normal, and I pretended I believed him. I wanted to believe him. But I couldn't. What brand of abnormal, I wasn't sure yet. I just hoped it didn't involve axes, gags, and the trunk of a car.

Outside, the air looked wavy and greasy as it came up from the asphalt. The heat hung heavy in the tree tops, weighing down the leaves so that the only movement was that of automobiles, roaring slowly past them on the two-lane road. It was a day to do nothing practical, summer at its most stifling.

"Here," I said unnecessarily, and Luke turned into the parking lot of Dave's Ice. It felt like I'd pulled into the lot a million times before. In a lot of ways, I'd learned more here than I had at school.

Luke looked at the squat, concrete-block building and parked in one of the shaded spots at the back of the lot. "Why is it called Dave's Ice?"

"Well, they used to sell just ice to people, way back in the old days, before fridges, I guess. Then, ice, now, ice cream. Makes sense, doesn't it? A sort of logical leap?"

"Do you like it?"

I was taken aback by the question. I didn't remember anyone ever asking me that question about anything before. "I do. This'll sound dumb, but I love making all the scoops perfect. You know, center the hot fudge, just the right number of swirls to the whipped cream, sprinkles go on in the right order so they stick perfectly..." I stopped, because he was laughing. "What? "

"So you're saying you've been a perfectionist for quite a while, then."

"Oh, shut up," I told him crossly. "Are we getting ice cream or not?"

He turned off the car, seemingly unfazed by my tone. "I've never seen anyone get angry as quickly as you. Come along, my frosty queen."

"I'm not frosty," I protested, but I got out and followed him across the parking lot. The heat rose off the blacktop, burning my feet through the soles of my shoes. "I am curious, though."

Luke's face was inscrutable. He stepped onto one of the painted lines in the lot, carefully moving along it. I stepped onto it after him, my steps as measured as a gymnast's, as if it were a balance beam and I might fall to my death.

"Curious about four-leaf clovers," I persisted. "About them being good luck. And other things, you said. What other things are they good for?"

"Feeding horses?"

Jerk. He couldn't hint at things and then play hard to get. It wasn't fair. "What else?

His voice was level. "Scaring snakes."

"What else?"

"Curing scorpion bites."

"What else?"

"Seeing faeries," Luke said. He jumped from the painted line up onto the sidewalk. "Phew. Made it." Then he took my hand and tugged me up after him. "Now stop being so clever and let's get some ice cream."

I wasn't going to let him get away with that. I stopped outside the door. "Clever how?"

He wagged a finger at me. "It's what I like about you. You listen. You watch. It's how you learned to do everything so well, while everyone else talked over top of everyone else. Now, would you please stop riddling me for half a moment so we can get some ice cream?"

I relented, though my heart thumped as he led me into the frigid air-conditioning. Not normal.

Not ordinary. I knew I should be running back home this second, but I was stuck. Stuck as stuck, Luke would say.

As he looked at the menu board, I said, "I never thought I'd be the sort that went for bad boys."

Luke didn't look at me, but he smiled widely, the biggest smile he'd worn all day. "No more riddling, remember? What's good here?"

I'd eaten enough ice cream in place of meals to answer immediately. "Chocolate Dream."

Sara Madison, a wine-bottle-shaped redhead who occasionally worked with me, was at the counter. She looked at Luke with considerable interest. "Can I help you?"

He politely asked for two Chocolate Dream cones and Sara, with no acknowledgment of my presence, obligingly began to scoop, smiling at him all the while. I leaned on the counter and pretended not to be annoyed. She always flirted with any remotely attractive male who entered the shop, and Luke more than qualified. It wasn't a personal attack. And if Luke was worth anything at all, he wouldn't rise to the occasion. Still, I couldn't help but glance over to see what effect the gigantically endowed Sara's attentions were having on him. His face had the same mild expression as usual as he counted out six one-dollar bills, but I saw a glimpse of that private smile right before he took a step to close the gap between us.

"You've got something on your shoulder." While Sara watched, he lightly ran a finger across the skin of my shoulder up to my ear. My stomach dropped so far out from under me that I didn't think I was ever going to get it back.

He said softly, "I think I got it." Then he turned to Sara, taking the cones. "You can keep the change. Let's eat outside, Dee."

Sara's smile had vanished, and she turned abruptly to begin cleaning the milkshake machine. I wondered if she'd say anything about it to me later. But I wondered more if Luke would ever touch me again.

Gesturing with his chin toward the door, Luke led me back outside into the unbearable sunshine.

The parking space beside his car was empty; we sat down on the railroad tie at the head of the space. In the dappled shade and holding an ice cream cone, it was almost pleasant.

I said, "Something on my shoulder, huh?" Luke smiled and licked his cone. "You wanted saving, didn't you?"

"You can't just go and do that to a girl without warning. It's not fair. I could've fallen down or something."

His voice bordered on smug. "You liked it?"

Cheeks hot, I studied the glistening drops of ice cream forming on the edge of my cone. "What a stupid question."

"I'm new to this. I've never tried exercising this particular repertoire of skills. I'm thrilled that I learned something from watching chick flicks."

I so wanted to believe him, and I so didn't. "You've had girlfriends before."

He shook his head. "No one's ever inspired me to mend my evil ways. May I practice on you?"

It was petty, but I was instantly irritated by the word "practice." I didn't want to be anyone's practice. "No, you may not."

He sighed. "See, you are clever. Very well. Do you mind if I stick around for a while, anyway?

You fascinate me and I want to know why."

"'Fascinate' is a very strong term," I said. "Plants fascinate horticulturists. Stars fascinate astronomers. Bugs fascinate--uh--bugologists. I don't know if I want to be studied. I don't know if I'm worth being studied."

Luke considered. "Well, of course you're worth being studied. You're extraordinary at everything you do. Without any external influence. You're extraordinary at everything you do just because you try to be. No superpowers.

Just hard work. It's quite amazing. Oh, I've done it again, haven't I? You're pissed at me again."

I had tried to keep the look off my face, but I couldn't. He was wrong though; I wasn't angry, I was disappointed. For once I didn't want someone to look at everything I could do and be awed. I wanted someone to just see me, what made me me, and be fascinated. I was so tired of hearing how great and amazing I was from people who would never know anything about me. I had let myself believe all this time that the real me was what Luke was flirting with, not the me destined for CD covers and exceptional alumni lists.

"God, you're pissed enough that you're not even talking!" Luke moved closer on the railroad tie to get a better look at my face. "I've really put my foot in it now, haven't I? I don't even know what I said."

My voice was half the strength it was supposed to be, which I hated. How in the world had he reduced me to tears? "I--I'm just so tired of people telling me how talented I am. I'd like to be amazing even if I was the most untalented person in the world. All anybody ever sees when they see me is the stupid harp. They never see who I really am."

Luke reached up a thumb and gently swiped away the single tear that had managed to escape.

"Don't cry, pretty girl. Who you really are is why you're so good at everything. You won't let yourself be otherwise. And that's what fascinates me."

Part of me wanted his hand to linger on my face, but pride and embarrassment made me knock it away. Fragile wasn't an image I liked to wear. "I don't normally cry.

I mean, unless I'm frustrated. I feel so--" I struggled for words and for dignity.

He said softly, "Your ice cream's melting."

Relieved, I turned back to my cone. We sat in silence for long moments, finishing our ice cream.

Then I said, without looking at him, "If I still fascinate you, you can study me for a while. But I won't be 'practice.'" "Thank you." He wrestled his keys from his back pocket and laid them on his leg, swallowing the last of his cone.

Without thinking first, I asked, "Is that a key for every secret?" Immediately I feared I'd violated our unspoken agreement, and that he would vanish in a poof of smoke.

But he didn't seem concerned by the question. Instead, he smiled vaguely and said, "Possibly.

How many keys do you have?" "Two".

"Is that how many secrets you have?"

I thought about it. One for the clover on the bedside stand. One for the way I felt about Luke.

"Yes."

His fingers toyed with his keys. "Would you like another?"

I didn't answer, but I watched him slide a key from his too-full ring. It was a small, heavy, oldfashioned key, with a spot of rust on one side. He glanced around as if someone might care what we were doing, and then pushed the iron key into my hand. Putting his lips right up against my ear, his breath hotter than the summer day, he whispered, "Here is another secret: I have no business being fascinated by you."

His lips almost formed into a kiss. Then he pulled away quickly and stood up. I was dizzy and had to close my eyes for a moment to reorient myself. I put the key in my pocket.

Holding out a hand, Luke pulled me to my feet and led me to the other side of the car, his eyes distant and his face preoccupied.

Before he shut the passenger door behind me, I briefly smelled a snatch of herbal fragrance in the summer air, quite apart from Luke's odor or the usual asphalt stench of Dave's parking lot. And then I realized I did have a third secret to go with my key: there was some sort of danger gathering around me. But I wasn't afraid.

"Oh, Granna's here." I peered over the dashboard as Luke pulled into the driveway. Her white Ford was so bright in the noon sun that I couldn't look directly at it. "Mom must've invited her over for my birthday."

"Birthday?" Luke switched off the car. "Today?"

"Actually yesterday, but I get cake today." I tried to keep the hopeful edge out of my voice.

"Want to stay for it?"

"Hmm." Luke got out of the car and came around to open my door. "I shouldn't. It does sound terribly interesting, though. Will your awful aunt be here?"