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“Not amusing, Sheba,” Sam chided, but he was laughing, too.
Evie’s giggles subsided, and now she caught her breath. He was beautiful to her. She reached her hand toward him, and if she lived for a hundred years more, she would never forget his expression, as if he had been lost in a dark wood for a very long time and she had just opened the door to him, light spilling out to let him know he was home at last.
“Where were we?” Sam asked, crawling back to her.
“We were right…” Evie kissed Sam. “About.” And again. “Here.”
“Here?” Sam pressed his lips to hers, warm and sure.
“Mm-hmm.”
Sam scooped Evie up into his arms, and she wrapped hers around him, the two of them threaded together like a knot that would not easily be undone. It all moved rather furiously then. Sam unfastened the buttons of Evie’s dress, and it slid to the floor in a sparkling pile. Evie lifted Sam’s undershirt over his head and kissed the scar near his collarbone.
“Aerialist accident in the big tent,” Sam explained.
“Mmm. Tell me later.”
His trousers hit the floor along with his socks. Her slip was off. Sam fumbled with the hooks of her garter.
“I thought you were a ladies’ man,” Evie joked, taking over and rolling off her stockings. She was nervous.
“I’m not a hosiery salesman, though,” Sam shot back. He sounded a little nervous, too. Evie removed her brassiere. Sam tugged off his boxers. Evie’s pulse drummed in her head. She’d petted—every girl had, even the ones who pretended they hadn’t. But this was a lot more than petting. She’d never seen a naked fella up close before, much less one she desperately wanted, even if she didn’t know what to do next. She and Sam slipped under the covers. And then, suddenly, the whole night was too much. She was afraid. It was silly, wasn’t it? She’d been ruined by Jake Marlowe and Sarah Snow. They’d faced a street full of ghosts, and she was afraid of this, this joining of bodies, this step toward love? Her cynicism was leaving her. She was opening herself up to something more. It was somehow the scariest thing in the whole world.
“Could we… could we just lie next to each other?” Evie said, eyes brimming with tears. “Just for a little while?”
“You’re killing me, Sheba.”
“Please? I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Sam lifted her chin. “Hey. Don’t be sorry. It’s okay.”
With that, he flipped onto his back and stared at the ceiling with great concentration.
“What are you doing?” Evie asked.
“Thinking of the least sexual thing I can imagine. Ghost bubbes. They’re making ghost borscht and talking about their bowel troubles. Jeepers. I might never make love again. This is traumatic.”
Evie burst out laughing. Then: “Sam. I changed my mind.”
Sam turned to her. “About…?”
“You know.” She reached under the covers and touched him, biting her lip at the surprise of what she felt.
Sam gasped. “You sure?” His voice was soft and a little breathy.
Evie nodded.
Sam wet his thumb with his mouth and slipped his hand between her legs, touching her gently there.
“You’re sure-sure?” Sam murmured again, and sucked along her clavicle.
She felt as if she were an electrical wire thrumming with life.
“Sh-shut up and k-kiss me, Sam.”
That night, as she lay wrapped in Sam’s arms, Evie dreamed of stars falling through the sky, streaking tails of smoke until the sky was starless. The King of Crows raked his fingers across the dark until it bled. He licked the blood from his fingers with a forked tongue. “People will believe anything, you know. You only need them to be frightened enough.”
THE SHADOW SELF
