“It’s one of the things I want,” he said languidly.
She recalled the shadow that had sneaked into her room and bit her. She pressed her palm against her chest, upon the spot where she’d been wounded.
“Tadeo was right, you’re a parasite.”
“Careful, now, I said we’d be civil.”
“You want to kill me. Like the girl. Elena. You leech.”
For the first time he seemed surprised. His mouth curled with something that might have been distaste.
“You ate her heart; you drank her blood. You’ve drunk mine. And poor Valentín, you tore him to pieces.”
“Poor Valentín, yes, meddling in affairs he shouldn’t have meddled in. Was he the one who showed you how to kill your brother?”
“You destroyed my brother, not me. Same as you destroy everything around you. Carrion eater.”
He stood from his chair. Lightning quick he was in front of her, his fingers upon her jaw, her neck, as if looking for a pulse point. She did not recoil at the anger on his face, she could not, too furious to fear him in that moment.
“Will you cut me open for your spells? That is what you do, isn’t it?” she asked, and thought perhaps he might slice her from chin to navel in that instant, so bright and incensed were his eyes.
But he laughed, low and bitter. “Do you remember how you were so eager to know the name of my lover? I said I had none, even if there was a woman I wanted. Do you know her name this time around?” he asked.
He parted his lips and one of his hands was now in her hair. She stared into his sharp eyes, brimming with avarice, and she tried turning her head away, because she couldn’t look at him any longer, couldn’t speak to him. But the hand in her hair tugged hard, holding her in place.
“The one thing I’ve wanted the most is you, just as you wantme. Wanted you quietly, for a long time now. You want me back. Didn’t you wonder why your talisman didn’t work? That sad dead bird. You must be careful with spells. You never barredmefrom your room. I’ve always been invited there.”
“No.”
“ ‘Nothing you’d say would alter my feelings,’ ” he told her, repeating her own words.
“No,” she protested, but it was a reflex and a lie. She remembered when she’d spoken that sentence to him, and she realized the power of such words. Magic wasn’t about powders or birds, like that witch had explained. It was more than the mechanical repetition or a list of ingredients. She’d undone any magic, canceled any wards that might have kept him away, because she’d wanted Arturo close to her.
His fingers brushed against her mouth, traced the contours of her lips. “You summoned me. You called to me, and I came. Do you remember, when you knotted that cord around a piece of cloth, what you asked for? What you desired? Magic is desire, Alba.”
“I didn’t ask you to hurt anyone,” she said.
“No man may escape the limits of his nature.”
His eyes were impossible to behold, uncanny, and she feared his gaze would scorch her skin. He bit down on her mouth, drawing blood, and then he kissed her; so quick and fluid was the motion that at first Alba did not react. Rather than igniting, she became stone. But then her flesh softened, she opened her mouth, kissed him back, closed her eyes, forgetting all the terrible things he’d said, or rather remembering the strength of her desire.
For she had wanted him very much, quietly, for a long time. He’d spoken the truth.
She tasted shadows on his lips, the coppery trail of her own blood, relished it. Yet the memory of her brother’s crumpled body was like a searing iron pressed into her brain and the outline of Valentín’s coffin was painted a stark white against her eyelids.
Her fingers scrabbled at his shoulders and she shoved him back.
She ran to the door and attempted to pry it open. It would notyield. Then his hand fell upon the door handle, and she looked up at him. A drop of blood stained his lips. He licked it and turned the knob, holding the door open for her.
She hurried back to her room and found her brother’s pistol then turned toward the doorway, thinking her uncle might have followed her. But she was alone. She stared into the dark hallway, the pistol heavy at her side, and remembered the witch’s mangled hand. There was no use for bullets; she had been warned and knew it to be true. She’d felt his might. He’d shown her his true face. He’d done this because he knew himself invincible, immune to the petty weapons of men.
Alba closed the door and slid the pistol back into the drawer.
1934: 7
Ginny was quiet theday she went missing. Thérèse Audrain had offered me lodgings during the winter break, which I greatly appreciated. I did not have the financial resources to head off campus and vacation in a distant locale, like some of the girls would, nor could I avail myself of nearby relatives. I detested the idea of obtaining a special dispensation and remaining at Stoneridge, the lone inhabitant of the dorm. The previous winter, I had spent my break at Carolyn’s house, but this year she was expecting visitors and I had not been invited.
Mrs. Audrain and her family would provide me with a home-cooked dinner and a measure of merriment. In exchange for their generosity, I had agreed to assist her during a dinner party she was throwing for other faculty members to celebrate the end of the term. This task would consume much of my day and I knew I was expected to stay during the party. I told Ginny as much.
