Raven Page 5

  I replay last night over and over in my mind like it’s a movie and I’m watching from a darkened theater. A girl encounters a junkie on the street. There’s a struggle, a scream. And the last scene is played in slow motion: A beautiful young man with flashing eyes approaches the guy lying on the sidewalk and—

  A knock on my bedroom door. Mom peeks in. “Zin is here. Do you feel up to having a visitor?”

  “I asked him to come over.”

  “Okay, I’ll send him up.”

  Zin walks in moments later, closing the door behind him. He looks paler than usual, and uncertain. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m okay. Tylenol Three helps.” I look down at my arm, which is bandaged and in a sling. “It’s not broken. The doctor thought I’d move it less if it was in a sling. So I don’t bust the stitches.”

  He sits on the edge of my bed. “What happened with the police?”

  “I told them he attacked me, there was a struggle, and I pushed him into a wall. They’re gonna go with my story. They’d have to be pretty stupid to believe someone of my size could do that, but I don’t think they care.”

  He looks relieved. “Thanks for keeping me out of it.”

  I don’t say anything. I have so many questions inside me.

  “I was watching you from a hiding place until the ambulance came. I didn’t leave you. I don’t expect you to believe me, but it’s true.”

  “I believe you.”

  “Thanks. I bet last night’s a blur for you. You’ll be glad to forget it.”

  “I saw what you did to him.”

  He sighs. “I didn’t mean to kill him. When I saw that guy on top of you, I went crazy. Adrenaline does that to you.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about. You touched his head. A light shot out of him.”

  His eyes sharpen. “What are you talking about?”

  “I looked, Zin. You told me not to look, but I looked. I saw what you did.”

  “You went through a lot last night. I’m not surprised you thought you saw strange things. It’s probably normal. I can’t believe what happened myself.”

  “I know what I saw. Your eyes were . . . weird.”

  “You lost a lot of blood. It sounds like you were hallucinating.” But his accent emerges behind his words.

  “Please, Zin. Tell me what’s going on.”

  Nothing is going on. I’m just stronger than I look. And when I saw him hurting you, I lost it.”

  “Are you on roids or something?”

  “No.”

  “Then . . .?”

  His eyes are pleading. “Let it go, Nic.”

  “I can’t. I saw you kill that guy.”

  “He deserved to die.”

  “I’m not going to argue with that. But I don’t see why you can’t tell me what’s going on. Don’t you trust me?”

  His eyes meet mine, laser green. “I trust you.”

  “Then tell me.”

  He’s silent for a long time, staring down at his hands.

  “Zin—”

  “I need to know that whatever I tell you, you’re not going to tell anyone, no matter how . . . disturbing.”

  “I won’t, Zin.” You know how I feel about you.

  “I’m immortal.”

  Silence.

  He glances at me, as if I’m supposed to respond. I just stare at him. I don’t know what I expected him to say that would explain last night, but it definitely wasn’t this.

  “I nearly died a long time ago. A man, a magician, brought me back from the point of death.” He pauses, as if he’s not sure what to say next. “I know it’s weird.”

  “A magician . . . brought you back from the dead,” I repeat, like hearing myself say it will make it sound less insane. My brain is rebelling. What he’s saying can’t be true. It’s impossible. It’s sci-fi. And yet there is no rational explanation for what I saw last night.

  “So how old are you exactly?”

  He gets up and walks to the window. “Depends if you’re counting calendar years or the physical body. I’ve been around for a while, but I’m physically a twenty-year-old, with everything that means . . . If I’d been forty when it happened, it would have been easier.”

  My mind is spinning. He’s telling me he’s just another horny twenty-year-old—except that he’s been around for an extra-long time.

  A tremor goes through his left arm; his right hand moves lightning quick to still it.

  “Zin? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” But he adjusts his position so that he’s leaning against the window frame.

  I scramble out of bed. “You’re not okay, are you?”

  He won’t look at me. “I have to go.”

  He’s halfway across the room when I grab his arm. “Wait!”

  Our eyes lock. His irises are amber. I jump back.

  He lowers his eyes, and in a second he’s out the door.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  That evening the doorbell rings.

  I look through the peephole. Flower delivery guy.

  I open the door.

  “Hi! I have a delivery for Nicole Burke.”

  “That’s me.” Wow. I sign for it and set it down on the coffee table, removing the plastic. It’s a black-and-white bouquet, with black velvety flowers and white silky ones. I open the card.

  My dear Raven. I was horrified to hear of your encounter last night. Zinadin promises me you are doing well. I am hoping for your speedy recovery. Yours, Carlo.

  In my dream, I am a raven soaring through misty clouds. The skies are ashen; there is no heat from the sun behind them. Icy winds slice through my silken black hair. I draw my wings into my body for warmth. Then I start to fall.

  I wake up with a start. It’s 3:36 a.m., and the room is dark except for the white glow of the streetlamp across from our house. I lie there for a few minutes, deciphering shadows on the ceiling.

  I can’t take this anymore.

  I dial my cell phone.

  He answers on the second ring. “Hi, Nic.” His voice is weak, even weaker than before.

  “I’m worried about you. You looked terrible when you left.”

  “I’m sorry I scared you.”

  “You didn’t scare me, not really. I was just caught off guard. You’re going to be okay, right?”

  “Yeah. It’ll take a couple of days, but I’ll be fine. I’m immortal, remember?”

  “I remember.” A memory flits across my brain of Zin crossing a busy Manhattan street with no fear of getting hit. I always thought he was crazy.

  Zin clears his throat. “So . . . I didn’t scare you off? We can still be friends?”

  “Of course. Nothing has to change. You’re still you, right?”

  “Yeah. I’m definitely still me.”

  “Then we’re good.”

  I hear him sigh. “You don’t know how glad I am to hear you say that. I’ve always wanted to tell you what I really am.”

  “Who you are, not what.”

  “Right. Thanks.”

  WEAK AND

  WEARY

  When I wake up the next morning my arm is still aching, so I might as well milk it for all it’s worth and take the day off school. Mom offers to stay home from work to take care of me, but I assure her I’m fine. I’m not sure that I’m fine, though. Physically, I’m recovering. Mentally, I’m not so sure.

  On the phone last night, in the velvety darkness, Zin’s voice was all the comfort I needed. Everything made dreamy sense. So what if he’s immortal? He’s still my guy, my crush, my BFF.

  But in the light of day, this immortal stuff has stopped making sense. I don’t know if it’s that or the Tylenol 3, but my stomach is downright queasy.

  I keep hoping he’s going to call and tell me I’ve been punked. If only I could spot the hidden camera in my bedroom, it would be all right, and things would be normal again.

  I spend the morning shuffling around the house in my pajamas. I can’t concentrate on TV, homework, books
, MySpace. I end up spending an hour reading about immortality on the Internet and finding nothing useful except for a not-half-bad Norwegian rock band.

  By noon, I’m beyond stir-crazy. Finally I text Zin:

  WHAT U UP TO?

  NOTHIN STILL NOT WELL HOWS UR ARM?

  OK HOW ABT I STOP IN?

  U CAN BUT MY EYES ARE STILL WEIRD.

  MY EYE IS WEIRD TOO LOL IM COMIN OVER C U.

  C U.

  I take the subway across the Manhattan Bridge. A guy dressed old school comes in with his little kid in tow. He puts down his boom box right in front of me, and they put on a show. Daddy’s not a bad breaker. Son messes up a flip and hits his head on the floor, but jumps up and continues the routine without a hiccup.

  I give Daddy a Your kid should be in school look and shake my head when the kid comes around for money.

  Getting off the subway, I head for Zin’s, eager but nervous. Will he look better or worse than yesterday?

  He buzzes me in. When I walk up the five floors, I find his door slightly open. He’s on the couch, huddled in a blanket. It’s a sunless day and he hasn’t put on any lights.

  “Come in. Help yourself to a drink if you like.”

  I shut the door behind me. Usually I lock it—it’s that kind of neighborhood—but this time I don’t, just in case.

  “Whatever’s out there is more dangerous to you than I am,” he says.

  He’s got a point. I lock the door and join him on the couch. He looks very boyish with the blanket around him.

  “You’re worse today, aren’t you?”

  He gives me a reassuring smile. In his eyes I see a flicker of amber, but it’s gone before I blink. “It always gets worse before it gets better.”

  “This has something to do with what happened the other night, doesn’t it?”

  “Something like that. It’s complicated. My body will recover fast, though.”

  “A benefit to being . . . ”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can I make you some tea?”

  “Sure.”

  I put the kettle on, find some loose Darjeeling in a cupboard, and pour it into a tea ball. Zin only drinks loose tea. I wonder if tea bags had been invented when he was growing up.

  “Have you eaten?” I ask.

  “I’m okay, thanks.”

  I wait in the kitchen for the kettle to boil. Then I bring the tea on a tray with some digestives.

  He accepts the tea, taking a long drink. I blow on my cup a few times before taking a sip.

  “Shit, I forgot honey. Want some honey?”

  “I’m fine. Relax, Nic. You seem kinda keyed up. Not that I—” A tremor passes between his shoulders. “Not that I blame you.”

  “I’ve got to be honest, Zin. . . . I can’t forget what you did to that guy. The light that came out of him. I want to know what you did to him.”

  “He was dying. His life force was going to leave his body. I just helped it along. You believe in the soul, don’t you, Nic?”

  “I do.” I pinch my skin. “This is just a costume.”

  “I love that about you. You’re so sure of your beliefs.”

  “I am?”

  “Seems to me you are.”

  “You said some things that night on the roof. Things that are starting to make sense.”

  “That’ll be a first.”

  “You talked about everything coming to an end.”

  “You know I get philosophical sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “If you’re immortal, I guess you give some thought to things like the end of time.”

  “The magician who made me this way . . . he said there’s no end to forever, and I am forever.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  He smiles. “I’ve got myself a mortal shrink, huh? Look, I don’t think anyone can handle the concept of forever. Everything I’ve ever known has had a beginning and an end. The only thing that hasn’t ended is my life.”

  “You said, that time, that you felt selfish, like you’d taken more than you deserve. And if there was a God, you’d have to pay.”

  “I don’t believe in God, but I’m not saying there isn’t karma. When you’ve lived as long as I have, you see that people get what’s coming to them. That’s the reason I sometimes worry about—” He hunches forward, a full-bodied tremor going through him. When it’s over, he hangs his head. “I don’t play by the rules, Nic. I wonder if the universe will notice.”

  “Sounds like you believe in a higher power.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe. All that matters is what is.”

  “The magician who changed you—how did he do it?”

  “I don’t know the spell, and I’d never want to know.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’d be tempted to use it. And a world full of immortals isn’t practical.”

  “Does anyone else know about you?”

  “This isn’t something you tell anyone, not even a best friend. You can imagine what would happen if word got out. I only told you because of what you saw.”

  “I won’t tell anyone. Ever.”

  “I know.”

  “Are there others like you?”

  “I’m sure—” He steels himself against a tremor, then leans his head back against the couch. “There probably are. Only makes sense.”

  “Well, have you thought of finding them?”

  “Should I put an ad in the paper?” He shakes his head. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m just not myself today.”

  “I’m sorry for asking so many questions. Maybe I shouldn’t have come over. You probably just want to rest and get better.”

  He raises a shaky hand and touches the side of my face. “You’re soothing. Don’t leave. Let’s just be.”

  “Okay.” I’m not sure how I’m supposed to just “be,” but I figure it means being quiet for a while. I’m good with that.

  I look over at him, the pale face, the beautiful eyes that flash with fire. And I know that whoever he is, I still love him.

  Magnet and metal, Zin and me. That’ll never change.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Tuesday at lunch. There are a dozen people crowded around me making various types of wow noises. It feels like I am describing an awesomingly bad date instead of the night I was almost murdered.

  It’s been this way all morning. When Mom called in my absence yesterday, she gave the attendance office the whole story. They gave the principal the story, who gave the staff the story, who decided I was a hero. I’m a school celeb now.

  I keep thinking that if I’d died, they wouldn’t be celebrating how strong I was that night. They’d be saying it was such a shame.

  I was so close to being a shame.

  But I can’t think of my own mortality without thinking of Zin’s lack of it. Maybe I should ask him to track down that magician and hook me up. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about walking alone at night ever again.

  “Sorry, guys, I’ve gotta get to class,” I say. “Press conference is over.”

  “Wait! How does it feel to kill someone?”

  The question jumps out at me from the crowd, care of a gawking freshman.

  “I didn’t kill him. I just pushed him and he hit his head. But I’m not sorry he’s dead.”

  Everybody goes quiet. I walk away before anyone can stop me. Did I just blurt that out? Damn it. I’m surprised by my words, by the truth in them. I’m glad the guy is dead so he can’t hurt me or anybody else.

  I just wish I could’ve saved myself. I had enough rage to rip that guy apart, but he was stronger than me. I’d do anything to have had Zin’s strength for those moments.

  “Nic!” Chen jogs up beside me. “Next time people swarm you like that, give me the word and I’ll take ’em down.”

  “Thanks. I handled them. They probably think I’m a psychotic nut job, but I handled them.”

  “That’s not what they’re thinking—they’re thinking you’re a badass bitch. And I gotta admit,
the whole thing blows my brain. I didn’t know you were that strong. Are you sure you’re not using protein shakes like I told you?”

  I laugh. “Obviously I don’t need them.”

  “Ohhh, what are you trying to say?” He grins. “You think you can battle me?”

  “I could polish the floor with your ass.” I look down at my arm. “Actually, I don’t think I’ll be battling for a while.”

  “Then neither will we. The Toprocks don’t battle without one of their members.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t want to hold you guys back. The Spin-heads could come back anytime.”

  “They’ll just have to wait. I’m not saying we won’t practice, but we won’t battle. Zin canceled practices this week anyway. Says he came down with something nasty.”

  “I heard.”

  “Anyway, I’ll still be at the Y most nights if you feel like working out. I’d hate for your superhuman muscles to atrophy.”

  “It would be a shame, wouldn’t it?” Something inside me stills. I was so close to being a shame.

  “You okay, Nic?”

  I nod.

  He puts an arm around me. “I know this must’ve shook you up. There’s nothing wrong with that.” He winks. “At least you had some help that night, huh?”

  I stare at him. “What do you mean? There was no one else there.”

  He smiles, then glances upward. “Maybe you got some help from upstairs. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

  “Actually, I haven’t.”

  SAD SOUL

  SMILING

  It’s my fault that Josh doesn’t call the next week to arrange the wire transfer.

  It’s because of what happened at Evermore.

  My parents are worried. I hear Mom telling Dad she wants to investigate different rooming houses. She needs to get a glimpse of him to know he’s okay.

  “What, you plan to go around to every rooming house in Brooklyn?” Dad says. “We don’t even know if he’s in Brooklyn.”

  “I can make some calls at least.”

  I’m standing outside the den. Their discussion goes in circles. It’s the same discussion that went on this morning, last night, and all the days before. What to do about Josh. Where to look for him.

  They’re scared. Sometimes I wish they could just cut the umbilical cord and be done with it, but it doesn’t work that way when you love someone.