That smile turned into a frown. “Not quite. It was my mother who explained it to me in a way that finally made sense.” Seeing the curiosity piquing on her face, he explained, “When I was a child, I went to her in times of distress, telling her the world was too big. When the Surges happened, and the Sight took over my mind, I would become overwhelmed and lock myself in my bedroom for hours, where I could do nothing but rock back and forth on the floor, squeezing my head in my hands. The person I was becoming frightened me, and my mind sometimes felt like it wasn’t my own. I thought there was something wrong with me. But she told me it was the rest of the world that was wrong.”
Loren tried not to look at the tattoo on his forearm: the beautiful face of a woman she realized must be his mother. Hair blew around her and blended seamlessly with the clouds edging the black and gray piece. She had angel’s wings, and at the base of the portrait were roses. The detail was so extraordinary, it looked like a photograph. Both of his muscular arms were covered with full sleeves of ink that extended all the way to the backs of his hands, the left seeming to be reserved only for symbols he clearly associated with his mother.
“How did she explain it to you?” Loren asked.
It took Darien a moment to speak. And when he finally did, although his eyes were on Loren, she could tell that he wasn’t really here, in this dining room. No—he was reliving a memory.
“My mother’s methods were gentle,” he began. “She had the kind of inexhaustible patience I strive for every day. Although she lacked the Sight my father possessed, that didn’t make her any less capable of teaching me how to use it. It took me several months before I finally had a firm grasp on reading auras, but it was all because of her—because she refused to give up on me. And because she refused to surrender me to my father’s cruel ways. Instead of ice baths and saunas, she helped me to see the colors with snow and sunlight; with the cool waters of a pool and the sound of the wind and the rain blowing through a forest.”
Loren found her eyelids slipping shut as she envisioned what Darien went on to illustrate.
“She taught me that green was life. Green was wet grass; moss; birds chirping in trees. Pink was pleasure in the most innocent sense of the word. It was the texture of rose petals and the heat of when you blush; it was strawberries, bubble-gum, lollipops. Yellow was cheery and invigorating, like the taste of lemon. It was sunflowers and the soft down of a newly hatched chick. Orange was exactly as the fruit tastes; it was the glow of firelight and the feel of the desert sun warming your back. Red was complicated; it was seduction, violence, danger, anger—even love. It was the heat of a steak fresh off the barbecue, the taste of chili peppers.” He paused, and Loren wondered if he was there, too—in his mind. In his heart. “The sound of the ocean…,” he went on. “The sound of the ocean was blue. Blue was calm. Blue was relaxation. Blue was…blue was peace.”
After a moment of silence long enough to confirm that he had said everything he wanted to say, Loren opened her eyes.
Darien was staring at her with an unfathomable expression on his face; no matter how hard Loren tried, she couldn’t read it. And the longer she waited for him to break her gaze, the less likely it seemed that he would.
Blue was peace, he’d said. She didn’t flatter herself by thinking that he was staring at her so intently because of the color of her eyes. Blue like the ocean, the color he associated with peace.
Loren cleared her throat. “That sounds much more enjoyable,” she said. “So, it worked?”
Shaking his head slightly—not in answer to her question, but as if waking from a trance—Darien slid a box of smokes from the pocket of his sweats. “It worked.”
Loren whispered, “What happened to her?”
A heavy pause. “She died of depression when I was fifteen.” He wouldn’t look at her, and his face had clouded over with emotions Loren knew she could never understand. Seeing such vulnerability in his expression did something to her heart—something that hurt more than a little bit. When Darien spoke again, the words were rough, expressed in such a way that suggested he was struggling to say them at all. “Some days I can still hear her voice…in my dreams and in my memories. And some days, that voice is the only thing still keeping me here.”
He shook his head again, as if to rid himself of the unwelcome thought, and then took out a cigarette, placed it between his lips, and lit it. The lid of the metal lighter clinked as he snapped it shut.
Instead of the smell of tobacco Loren expected, she caught a whiff of birthday candles. And when she squinted hard enough, she spotted a shimmer of magic confining the smoke to one area—keeping it away from her and around himself instead. It might’ve simply been a force of habit for him, but this act of consideration, no matter how small, made her feel a little fuzzy inside.
“Aren’t you worried about the Tricking?” she said. With how much magic he was using on a daily basis, the highly deadly disease was bound to cross his mind from time to time.
“There’s not a lot I’m worried about, Rookie.” She was starting to see that. As he took another long drag on the cigarette, Loren was careful to look anywhere but at his mouth.
She fiddled with her shorts string. “What do we do now?”
“We go in blind.” They would have to look for answers another way. And Loren had a feeling it would involve one heck of a lot of investigating.
—
“Soooooo, is Darien Cassel as hot as all the rumors say he is?”
From where she sat across from Dallas in the crowded dining hall of the academy, Loren reached across the table and swatted Dallas’s freckled arm.“Seriously, Dal?”she fumed, though a smile tugged at her mouth. “After everything I just told you,thisis the question you ask me?”
Dallas flicked a braid over her shoulder. “I’m just asking,” she tsked. Her eyes danced as she prodded, “Well,ishe?”
Loren rolled her eyes. “I guess so.” She knew Dallas saw the color she could feel blooming across her cheeks.
She still couldn’t believe how blatantly Darien had called her out last night! When she’d gone to bed, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it—about how his eyes had practically devoured her upon realizing how dirty her thoughts had become. Needless to say, she’d had more trouble falling asleep than she cared to admit—especially knowing that his suite was right down the hall from her own. Andespeciallyafter he’d practically invited her to discover just how generous he could be. She may be inexperienced, but that didn’t mean she lacked imagination. Plus, she’d heard plenty from Dallas over the years that told her exactly what a guy had to offer, if they knew how to handle a woman. And it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Darien certainly knew how.
“Can we get back to the more important things, like, I don’t know…how many people want tokillme?”
“Sorry. You know humor is just my way of dealing with stress.”
“It’s okay.” Loren extended a hand to her.
Dallas took it, lacing her fingers with hers. “Do you think the Devils could track Sabrine and find out where she’s being kept?”
