Then I smelled it. A familiar, sharp, sweet smell, hovering on the edge of the cut-grass smell.
And I heard it, too: a sound almost like music, forming snatches of tune somewhere in the part of my brain I didn't think I used.
I felt Luke start to move a second before he moved, and then he grabbed me, pulling me toward the side of the road,
150
his fingers tight on my arm. Is this when I should start being afraid of him?
He hadn't pulled me more than a few feet when a pleasant voice, halfway to a song, said, "I thought I was the only one who couldn't sleep."
For a moment I didn't recognize the voice, but then Luke stiffened and turned. I saw a tall, snowy figure step out of the mist toward us. She was all the more frightening because I knew her from far more ordinary circumstances-- and she shouldn't be here. Eleanor was walking dead-center down the road toward us, solidifying as she did. I couldn't tell if it was the effect of the mist or if she really was materializing right there on the road. Luke tightened his grip on me, shifting me subtly so that he stood between myself and Eleanor.
He looked at her, voice casual, as if he wasn't obviously shielding me from her. "What do you want?"
Eleanor smiled, so beautifully my head hurt. "Couldn't this be just a chance meeting?" She reached into the folds of her fine white dress and withdrew a long, pearly blade with a round, unadorned grip.
"It could be," Luke snarled. "What the fuck do you want?"
The words sounded wrong in his mouth; desperate.
Eleanor laughed, a delicate sound that made the trees shake on either side of us. "Temper looks so bad on you, dear." She held out the polished bone knife toward him. "I brought this for you, since you seem to have lost yours."
"I didn't lose it."
151
She circled us. Luke held me so tightly it ached.
"Yes," she said finally. "I see that." She reached out as if she were going to touch my hair, her elegant fingers stretching toward my face, and then jerked back. Eleanor looked down at her fingers as if surprised at what they'd done, and then looked at Luke's secret, hanging around my neck.
Luke stepped back, pulling me with him. "Don't touch her. Keep your filthy hands away from her."
Eleanor studied her fingernails. "Hmm. I don't know why you're being so rude, sweetheart.
We've been so forgiving of your schedule these past few days. Everyone's been so nice to you. I really expected to find you in a good mood. It's been quite long enough for you to be all rested up." She extended the knife toward him again. "And now you can just finish everything up and we'll all go back to our lives." She laughed, and this time the trees shuddered up and down the road. "Well, most of us."
I imagined its pearlescent surface lying gently across my neck, leaving a red trail behind it. He'd killed so many people before; I didn't know him at all. In my head, I saw his dagger slip into the cat's jaw. But I still couldn't be afraid, no matter how much my logical mind warned me to be. I couldn't seem to think of him as anything but my protector.
Next to me, Luke shook his head wordlessly.
Eleanor circled us again, her eyes on me this time, appraising. "Ah, Luke. You've made some poor choices over the years, we both know that, don't we? But I think this one is possibly the worst choice you've ever made." The words oozed out, studded with poison. "So, are you sure you really
152
won't do it? Just real quick? It would only take a moment. I would do it for you--but, you know."
"No." His voice was hard, but I felt him shaking against me.
Eleanor pouted gently, so beautiful that angels wept and flowers shriveled. "Whatever shall I tell her, then?"
"Tell her--" Luke paused, and when he spoke again, his voice had a desperate edge. "Tell her I throw myself on her mercy. Tell her I can't do it and I beg for her mercy."
Eleanor looked puzzled. "You can't do it? Kill this girl? Why?"
"I love her." Luke's voice was flat and matter-of-fact, just as if he'd said, the sky's blue.
I felt my knees go weak; if he hadn't held me so tightly, I would have stumbled.
The smile on Eleanor's face was so radiant, I couldn't bear to look. She glowed with fearsome joy. "Oh, I shall tell her. Shall I tell her that last part as well?" She clasped her hands together, pressing her fingers to her lips as if she would burst with the tremendous gift he had given her.
Luke was about to answer, but the road was empty.
The mist moved slowly over the surface of the asphalt. After a long minute, Luke released me and took a step back, his eyes fixed on where Eleanor had been. He linked his hands behind his head and squeezed his eyes shut. "God, what have I done?"
It was a good question. I had no friggin' idea what had just gone on. Except I remembered the words, "I love her." Those stuck in my mind, playing over and over with the 153
images of his murders providing a horrible counterpoint. Everything else seemed difficult to hold onto, sliding away as soon as I thought about it. I watched Luke pace, his fingers still laced behind his hair, and images began to flash through my head again. Mindless memories--Luke as a child, reaching up into
