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He nods. “If I don’t enter the realms, the dream can’t come true. I can’t hurt you.”
“You said ignorance wasn’t destiny,” I remind him. “If you don’t go into the realms, you’ll only not have been in the realms. Besides, there are hundreds of other ways to do me in here, if you wish. You could pitch me in the Thames. Shoot me in a duel.”
“Hang you with the entrails of a large animal,” he says, joining in, a smile forming.
“Abandon me to Mrs. Nightwing forever so that I might be pecked to death.”
“Ah, that’s cruel, even for me.” Kartik shakes his head, laughing.
“You find my imminent death so amusing?” I tease.
“No. It isn’t that. You bested Fowlson,” he says, grinning madly now. “It was…extraordinary.”
“I thought you found my power frightening.”
“I did. I do. A bit,” he admits. “But, Gemma, you could change the world.”
“That should take far more than my power,” I say.
“True. But change needn’t happen all at once. It can be small gestures. Moments. Do you understand?” He’s looking at me differently now, though I cannot say how. I only know I need to look away.
The ships’ masts press against the fog, letting us know they’re here. In the distance there’s a foghorn. Some vessel is slipping out farther toward the sea.
“Such a mournful sound. So lonely,” I say, hugging my knees to my chest. “Do you ever feel that way?”
“Lonely?”
I search for the words. “Restless. As if you haven’t really met yourself yet. As if you’d passed yourself once in the fog, and your heart leapt—“Ah! There I am! I’ve been missing that piece!” But it happens too fast, and then that part of you disappears into the fog again. And you spend the rest of your days looking for it.”
He nods, and I think he’s appeasing me. I feel stupid for having said it. It’s sentimental and true, and I’ve revealed a part of myself I shouldn’t have.
“Do you know what I think?” Kartik says at last.
“What?”
“Sometimes, I think you can glimpse it in another.”
And with that, he leans forward as I do. We meet in a kiss that is not borrowed but shared. His hand cups the back of my neck. My hands find his face. I pull him closer. The kiss deepens. The hand at my neck slides down my back, drawing me into his chest.
Noises come from the docks. We fly apart, but I want more. Kartik grins. His lips look slightly swollen from our kissing, and I wonder if mine do as well.
“I shall be arrested,” he says, nodding toward my trousers and noting my boyish appearance.
Big Ben’s commanding chime reminds us that the hour is late.
“We’d best go,” Kartik says. “That enchantment won’t last forever, and I shouldn’t like to be standing here when Fowlson and his men are free.”
o;The magic won’t last long. An hour, maybe two at most. And once you’re free, you’re not to come after us, Mr. Fowlson, or I shall unleash my powers again.”
Kartik takes my hand and leads me out of the sewer. We leave Fowlson, swinging and cursing at the dark, behind us.
Walking along the dirty Thames is a relief. The river air that seemed so foul an hour ago is sweet compared to the suffocating odor in the sewer. The wracking coughs and the tuneless songs of the mud larks float through the fog like phantoms. A sudden shout cuts the mist. Someone has found a lump of coal, and the news is greeted with excitement and a great thrashing of water as every one of the mud larks rushes to find the sweet spot. But it turns out to be nothing more than a rock. I hear the heavy plink as it’s tossed back into the Thames riverbed, that graveyard of hope.
“I need to sit,” I say.
We wander down by the wharves and rest for a moment, looking out at the boats bobbing on the river.
“Are you all right?” I ask after a long silence.
