Poison Princess

“Heh. You haven’t had a single nosebleed since we picked up that boy.”

I swallowed, uneasy with where this was going.

“This is like those puzzles we used to do in school. If some things are true and some are false, you can figure out a solution. If you haven’t told me any lies tonight—”

“I haven’t!”

“—then I can back my way into the truth. One. You said you can’t see the future, but you didn’t answer when I asked if that coo-yôn could. Two. For some reason, you think his help can protect your life. Three. You once told me your visions felt like they were being shoved into your head. Maybe ’cause they were?”

Cunning, perceptive Jackson.

Realization lit his expression. “You’ve been growing plants somehow, and he’s been seeing the future? It makes sense.”

I just stared at him.

“Did he send you those visions to protect you?”

Why bother denying it? “He tried to get me ready for the Flash. I barely listened to him.”

Jackson tensed. “Then why does he keep talking about you dying, Evangeline?”

Oh boy. “When he talks about me meeting Death, he’s doesn’t mean it like you think. More like I should be prepared to face a big-bad or something. I know it sounds weird, but he considers Death to be a . . . person. Someone who can be defeated.”

A measure of tension eased from Jackson’s shoulders. The idea of a fightable adversary was something he could handle. “So both of you got gifts.” Then his face fell. “That’s why you like each other so much.”

“It’s not like that with Matthew and me. He doesn’t see me in that light.”

“He’s a sixteen-year-old boy, Evie. He sees you in only one light! Trust me on this, cher.”

“Well, I look at him like a sibling.”

“Like I did with Clotile?” he asked, and I thought he was holding his breath.

“Exactly. He’s a kid brother to me.”

Jackson briefly closed his eyes. At the memory of Clotile? Or from relief at my words? Both?

Had he truly believed I was interested in Matthew? I could only imagine what all Selena had told him when I wasn’t around. Doubt-mongering bitch.

Jackson met my gaze. “Got something for you.” He reached for his nearby bag, rooted around inside, then produced a bottle of Sprite.

My lips parted as he handed it to me. “Did you know that was my favorite?” He might as well have presented me with a piece of priceless jewelry. Just like with the gum, every time we drank a soda or ate a candy bar, there was one less treat in the world, never to be replenished.

“Of course. I did see you at five lunch periods. I’ve been saving it for when you could enjoy it—alone.”

I unscrewed the top, handing it back to him. “We will share it.”

“Oh, you’ll drink after me?”

My cheeks flushed. “Sometimes I can be immature, Jackson. I know it’s not always easy to be patient with me.”

As we passed the bottle between us, he grew serious again. “I’m not goan to be able to keep charging forward blindly. And there’s so much more than you’re telling me. Why woan you trust me? Is it because of the stuff I did back in school?”

Arcana means secrets. “It’s not you, Jackson, it’s me.”

He scowled at that, about to question me more, but the sun had begun to rise.

“I got to head out to work, me,” he said. “I’d leave Selena here as a guard, but her bow shoots better from a distance, and I need her for cover. I can’t get in and out of a camp full of soldiers without her.”

“I understand.”

“You woan have to worry about Baggers today. And hell, coo-yôn can probably see any threats coming, huh?”

“Don’t worry about me. Just please be careful.” Though I knew he was brave and resourceful, I didn’t want him to go, dreading the danger he was about to wade into. “I want you to make it back, okay?”

“I could almost think you really care about me.”

“I do really care!”

“About having a bodyguard to protect you.”

“You’re more than that to me,” I said quietly. “And you have to know that—so why are you acting like you don’t?”

“Then prove it.” He eased closer, until our faces were inches apart. “Tell me your secrets.”

God, I loved it when he looked at me like this, with his eyes so steady and . . . affectionate?

“Trust me, ma belle. Can you do that?”

Ma belle meant “my pretty,” but also “my girlfriend.” So how did Jackson mean it?

Just then, glaring beams of sunlight hit us through the window, like . . . winter sunshine.

The spell was broken between us. Jackson shifted back to his usual restless self, his mind on his upcoming task. “Just think about it, Evie. We’ll talk when I get back.”

We woke Selena and Matthew, both groggy and in pissy moods. I was too nervous to care much.

Jackson deemed the house too plain a target, so we camouflaged the van down the road for Matthew and me to hide in.

Before Selena and Jackson departed, he gripped Matthew’s upper arm, telling him in that steely tone, “You’re goan to stay here and watch out for Evie. Earn your keep for once. You see a chance to kill or die for her today, then you take it.”

When Matthew merely stared at him, Jackson reached into the weapon box and pulled out a sheathed machete, handing it to the boy.

Matthew laughed and dropped it.

Jackson’s fists clenched, his temper at the ready.

But Selena quickly said, “They’ll be hidden here, J.D. They’ll be fine.”

Jackson turned to me. “On parle quand j’reviens.” We’ll talk when I get back.

“Prends soin de toi,” I replied. Take care of yourself.

Selena didn’t like this exchange whatsoever. “Hey, handsome, we don’t need to take both bikes. Wastes gas.”

When Jackson agreed with a shrug and mounted up, Selena slung her bow over her shoulder and hopped on behind him. With exaggerated relish, she wrapped her arms around his torso, pressing her long legs against his.

My spot. That was where I belonged. My claws grew slowly, menacingly, and it felt good. I tucked them into my palms so no one could see, but Matthew chuckled behind me.

Over her shoulder, Selena cast me a triumphant expression. And when she laid her head against his back, I was certain he could feel her smiling against him.

35

“Are you ready to tell me if Jackson will be safe down there?” I asked Matthew as we waited in the van,