For an hour we talked about stupid stuff that I couldn't
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remember afterward. Like why "Bill" was a nickname for "William" and why dogs didn't come in stripes. Every time I thought we'd run out of things to talk about, one of us thought of something else.
"Bucephalus." Luke tapped the steering wheel.
"God bless you!"
He laughed. "No, it's the name of my car."
"You named your car?"
He smiled impishly, a little boy.
Looking at my feet, where the carpet was stained two colors and curling away from the edge of the door, I demanded, "After Alexander the Great's horse, no less? Going for a bit of irony, were you?"
"So you know who he was. You know the story." Luke's teeth flashed white in the clear sunlight as he gestured grandly to the dashboard. "That's our story as well."
"You and the car."
"Yes."
I raised an eyebrow. "So, what you're telling me is that nobody else in the world could drive this car. That it threw all comers out and drove over them, leaving tire marks on their faces, and one day, you as a young boy climbed into it and bent it to your will?"
His eyes smiled more than his mouth did, which was only lifted on one corner. "That's right. And we've been inseparable ever since."
I considered this, and then I looked at the dashboard, faded and scraped. "I dunno. I guess I would've tried to tame a Maserati instead of an Audi."
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Now he laughed. "What can I say, destiny chose this one for me." He pointed. "Look."
We were finally getting into Richmond; the car was surrounded by suburbs that gave way to office buildings and stores. Richmond was a very bright city. Everywhere, sunlight reflected from white sidewalks, mirrored buildings, parked cars, and concrete medians between lanes of black top. There were trees, but they seemed like an afterthought, almost unnoticeable among all the man-made structures. In my short visits to Richmond, I had never been fond of it, but I could sense Luke relaxing as we drove in deeper.
"You like the city." It wasn't a question, though I was surprised.
Luke's eyes glanced off every brilliant surface. "No. I like what the city does. All this-- stuff.
Nobody would live here but a human." He pointed to a huge church spire, distant over rooftops and trees. "And the crosses. Everything makes a cross here. They can't stand it."
"They?" I was chilled by the word human. As if "They" might not be.
Luke glanced at me, his expression oddly light. "Shh, pretty girl. Let's enjoy ourselves for a bit before you start riddling again."
He drove the Audi to Carytown, an endless street of shops painted every color of the rainbow and offering all sorts of odds and ends that couldn't be found elsewhere. After circling a few blocks, he found a parking spot nearly in the shade. "I know where to get an awesome French pastry, if you're hungry."
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"Sounds good." I was starving; I hadn't eaten lunch in my excitement. That's because you're stupid, the voice in my head reminded me.
We got pastries from a little café, and took them outside to eat at a wrought-iron table that overlooked the street. Luke watched me in amusement as I took my layered pastry apart.
"What are you doing?"
"Seeing what it's made of." I poked a sponge cake layer with a fork and tasted the cream on top of it. "So I could try and make it." Mom had taught me that. She dissected everything, read menus like novels, and then created her own magic in the kitchen.
He shook his head.
"Strange as strange?" I offered.
"I was going to say 'weird as weird.'"
I was going to ask him questions--riddle him--but the pastry was so good (the cream was hazelnut) that I finished it before speaking. "Now, you talk."
Luke stood up, correcting me. "Now, we walk. I don't think there's anyone here, but I feel better walking."
I got up and he took my hand, easy and natural. I wondered if my touch gave him the same electric reaction I got from his. We began to walk down the too-bright concrete, cars whirring by us on the right, music beating from one of the clothing shops.
"Let me know if you want to go in anywhere," Luke said. As if I wanted to freakin' shop.
"Just talk. Tell me what's going on."
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He watched a bicycler slowly pedal down the opposite side of the street. "Here's my secret..." He leaned over to my shoulder and said in a low voice, "I can't tell you my secrets."
It took me a moment to realize what he'd said. When I did, I ripped my hand from his and stopped in my tracks. "You brought me down here to tell me that?" A couple across the street paused in their stroll to look at us, and I lowered my voice. "I really expected better than that. At least lies."
Luke reached out a hand, but I crossed my arms. Sighing, he said, "It's true I can't tell you my secrets. But I don't know bow much I can't say. You can ask me questions, and I can see how far we get."
I frowned at him. A punk chick and her androgynous punk friend had to push past me. I ignored their snarky comments and instead squinted at Luke. "What do you mean, 'can't tell me'? Don't know how much you 'can't tell me'?"
His face begged for understanding; he shrugged helplessly.
I knew in my heart what he was dancing around, and even though I could send clover flying across the ground and move light switches, my mind still wouldn't accept it. Funny, because I'd wanted the world to be extraordinary for so long. And now that it was, I couldn't seem to believe it.
I lowered my voice. "Are you asking me to--to believe in magic?"
Luke didn't answer. He just kept his
