Page 19 of Immortal Game

Shea glanced over at the glass plaque, which rested on the booth beside her. It’d been unsatisfying back in the high school gymnasium. Here beneath the fluorescent lights, it was shiny and reflective andhers. Bitterness welled up in her. Mom didn’t even play chess. It wasn’t logical to be jealous. But Shea had learned that adults didn’t make sense as soon as she started beating them at chess. If they could make such simple mistakes over the board—ones so painfully obvious to her, a child—what else were they wrong about?

“Good,” Aideen said, all businesslike now. “Finish up, and we’ll go.”

Before Shea could reply, someone said, “Aideen.”

A boy with a flannel shirt and floppy black hair approached their table. Shea had never met him before. He looked around Aideen’s age, so he must’ve been one of her classmates. Aideen shot him a radiant smile. “Ryan! What are you doing here?”

Ryan didn’t answer her immediately. He only stared at Aideen with a hollowed-out hunger that gave Shea the chills. Now that she could see him up close, he didn’t look so good. His hair hung limp and greasy across his forehead. His shirt was rumpled, and his cheeks were gaunt. Beneath the fluorescent lights, his skin had taken on a waxy pallor.

This was a dead man walking.

“I followed you.”

Aideen’s smile faded. “What? Why?”

“You’re so beautiful.” He dropped to his knees like a supplicant. People at nearby tables had begun to stare. “Food tastes like ashes in my mouth. Even my favorite music sounds discordant. I can’t sleep. I can’t drink. I can’t focus. All I do is think about you. I need you to put me out of my misery. Please.”

Shea didn’t fully understand what he was saying, but something about his desperation unsettled her. She’d never seen someone act like this. At the chessboard, the threats were obvious: an attack on your king, a fork on your most valuable pieces. Shea had no idea what Ryan might do. “What is he talking about?”

“Not now,” Aideen replied, in a thin voice. “We’re going.”

Aideen was afraid, Shea realized. Afraid ofhim.

Shea took in his pathetic, wan face. Confusion and disgustwarred within her, but she let Aideen take her hand and lead her outside. Shea stumbled a few times as she tried to keep pace with her, but she didn’t protest—not even when she realized she’d left her plaque behind. It had gotten dark enough for the streetlights to come on. It was an unusually misty night; their orange light bloomed faintly through the haze.

“Wait,” Ryan called. “Wait!”

“What’s wrong with him?” Shea whispered.

“I don’t know. I don’tknow,” Aideen replied. “He’s acting like he’s enchanted, but I…”

As sick as he looked, he moved quickly. In a matter of strides, he caught up with them and seized Aideen by the wrist. She whirled on him with a wild, cornered-animal gleam in her eyes.

“Ryan,” she said, as though speaking to a spooked horse. “You’re scaring me.”

“And you’re killing me.”

“Please let go.”

“I can’t.” His expression was tortured and reverential as he laid one hand on the side of Aideen’s face. “Don’t you understand what you’ve done to me? I’ll never be whole again without you.”

Aideen flinched back. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t mean to—”

He wasn’t listening. Why wasn’t he listening to her?

“Hey!” Shea shoved at him, but it was as though he was made of stone. He didn’t budge. He didn’t even seem to notice her. He only leaned closer, as if he meant to kiss Aideen.

Aideen struck him across the face. “Stop.”

Something had changed about Aideen’s voice. It soundedas though two people spoke at once—and like electricity ran through every word.

The streetlamps overhead flickered. The mist thickened around them. Ryan froze abruptly, like a puppet jerked on its strings. Slowly, Aideen extricated herself from his grasp. Still, he did not move. He was rooted in place as though she’d turned him to stone.

All her life, Shea had known there was something strange about her sister. But she’d never seen anything like this. It filled her with equal parts wonder and terror.

Aideen clapped a hand over her mouth. Tears streamed down her face, but she didn’t make a sound. She only stared at him in horror and fascination, as though she could hardly believe what she’d done. As though she wondered if she could do it again.

CHAPTER SEVEN