Love Me, Love Me Not Page 12

“Here’s a health to all lovers that are loyal and just; Here’s confusion to the rival that lives in distrust.”

  The swans in the river flapped their wings, agitated. I kept singing, feeling the wind rise around us and tingles of eagerness in my fingertips.

  “But I’ll be as constant as a true turtle dove, For I never will, at no time, prove false to my love.”

  “You have such a pretty voice,” Edward said, sounding slightly drunk. “I think I might be falling in love with you.”

  The swell of power and anticipation died abruptly.

  Shit. Shit.

  What the hell was I doing?

  I drew back so quickly I nearly fell off the bench. I knew better than this. The way Edward was looking at me wasn’t love. It was infatuation and awe and it had nothing to do with me. It was the song.

  I leaped to my feet. “I have to go.”

  He scrambled up. “What? Why? Did I do something wrong?”

  “No.” I shook my head vehemently and tried to smile reassuringly at the same time. “It’s me. I’m sorry. I can’t see you anymore. I’m so sorry.”

  “Ana, wait!” He chased after me, but the wind tossed branches in his way and I kept running.

  I was a horrible person.

  I ran straight out of town and into the dark farmlands and I was still a horrible person. I couldn’t outrun what I’d almost done. I’d always thought myself secretly better than my cousins because I refused to use magic to find love. But I was no different. I was worse, actually. I’d been so right to warn Pierce that what he was feeling wasn’t real. But then I’d gone and messed with Edward’s brain. He’d be fine by morning, but I couldn’t see him again. I couldn’t see anyone. Not like this. How would I ever know if someone actually loved me and not my swan?

  My feet hurt by the time I reached Cygnet House, and the pain between my shoulders was sharp and hungry, like teeth. I went straight into the woods. Morag charged at me from the trees and I let her shove me into the dirt. I didn’t stop her.

  Aunt Aisha nudged her back, then crouched beside me, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

  I hugged my knees to my chest. “I’m a horrible person.”

  She shrugged. “No more horrible and no less horrible than anyone else.”

  “I used a song on Edward,” I admitted miserably.

  She raised an eyebrow. “And?”

  “And then I ran away.”

  She sighed. “Ana, you’re not exactly the first Vila to have this problem. A little snippet of a song is nothing. He’ll get over it.”

  “How am I supposed to get my feather cloak now? How do I know if someone likes me or if it’s just Vila magic?”

  She sat next to me. “You’ll figure it out. Everyone does, even regular folk. You can’t ever truly know what’s in someone else’s heart. At some point you just have to trust, I guess.”

  I wiped my face. “But what if I can’t trust myself? What if I never get my cloak?”

  “Sometimes it’s so simple we can’t see it for ourselves. Do you know why we need to fall in love to get our totem shapes?” Aunt Aisha asked. “Or more specifically, why platonic love or familial love, or even loving yourself isn’t enough?” When I shook my head, she continued. “Because we have to prove that we can love something more than the swan, more than ourselves. That’s how we earn our feather cloaks. It’s not about someone loving us, but about us loving them.” She kissed my hair. “Try not to think so hard. Love, like the swan, is all instinct. It’s in your gut, not your head. You just have to be brave. There are lots of ways to fly.”

  Late that night, I dreamt of Pierce.

  Heat bloomed between us, burning away everything but the feel of his body touching mine. His hands were everywhere and it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. His skin was hot when I slipped my fingertips over his back, the muscles moving under my touch. We fell into a hot, desperate kiss. His fingers slipped under my hair, digging into the back of my neck. His tongue stroked into my mouth and I shivered, heat pulsing up the back of my legs. I strained against him. He kissed across my cheek, breath tickling my ear. I kissed him back so eagerly he made a delicious, strangled sound in the back of his throat. I couldn’t get close enough.

  He was pulling me closer, until our legs tangled and our tongues and our thoughts; until we were so entwined I wasn’t even sure where I began and he ended because surely his breath was my breath, his body my body. He nipped at my lower lip and my bones turned liquid. He was the spark and I was the fuse leading to the dynamite.

  I hoped I didn’t blow us both up.

  I woke up when he lifted his head, confused. “Do you hear singing?”

  I opened my eyes just as the last of my song faded. The curtains at the window fluttered in a wind called by my voice. In that way of dreams, I remembered that Edward had been there too, just as I woke up, shouting that he loved me.

  I kicked off my covers, my skin clammy and cold. My heart was racing and my legs prickled, the way they always did after a nightmare.

  I snuck out behind our cabin and lit a small fire. In the morning I would bake two dozen cupcakes; one batch for Edward and another batch for Pierce, so we could start from scratch. I’d make sure they were chocolate caramel.

  Tonight, though, I would protect us in another way.

  Once the fire had caught, I added all of the feathers I’d been gathering since I was a little girl.

  The flames crackled, shooting sparks. The smell of burning feathers was oddly sweet.

  I stayed up all night, until the last of the embers turned white, but the ache between my shoulder blades remained.

  Chapter Nine

  Ana

  “You did what?”

  I’d hoped that by burning my feather cloak, everything would be clearer. Less complicated.

  Clearly, Pierce didn’t agree.

  “Are you nuts?” he demanded. “You’ve been gathering those feathers since you could walk.”

  “I don’t want them anymore,” I replied stubbornly. He was looking at me as though I’d just announced my intention to chop off my own hand. “I don’t need them.” He stared at me, stunned. We were lying in the back of his truck and I was using his copy of Ulysses as a pillow. I felt the heat of his body along mine. “Eat another cupcake.”

  There was a plate of them next to him. He crammed one into his mouth, glaring. “Happy now?” he asked when he’d finally swallowed the last of the icing. Possibly, I’d gone overboard on the caramel. “Ana, you’re a swan,” he continued. “You need the cloak.”

  “I’m not a swan yet. And I’ve decided not to become one.”

  He scrubbed his face. “Okay, talk me through how this makes even a lick of sense. Because I’ve seen your aunts when they don’t have cloaks. It’s not pretty. And it’s been freaking you out for years.”

  “Sometimes it’s okay.” I batted away the fear. I’d spent so much time obsessing over my feather cloak and worrying about the consequences that it would take some time not to feel the habitual dread. “Anyway, it’s my choice to make.”

  And some things were worse than cloak-madness. Like using magic to get people to love you. And if I couldn’t trust myself, then even Pierce was in danger. I wouldn’t do that to him. The memory of our dream kiss and our real kiss sizzled together.

  “I think it’s biology’s choice to make, actually. Or magic. Magic biology. Whatever.” He shook his head. “I still can’t believe you thought that was a good idea. What did Aisha do?”

  “I haven’t told her.”

  He whistled. “She will go nuclear.”

  “She doesn’t have to know. I won’t fall in love so I won’t need the cloak. Simple.”

  “I love you but you’re an idiot.” I winced at the word “love.” He paused. “Shit. That’s what this is really about, isn’t it?”

  I shrugged uncomfortably. “I just don’t want to force people to love me.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You couldn’t even if you wanted to
. That’s not how love works.”

  “That’s how magic works.” I thought of Edward’s glassy stare and befuddled smile and shuddered. I flatly refused to remember my dream. It was making it difficult not to blush every time I looked at Pierce. “Anyway, it’s done now. I feel fine.”

  “You feel fine now, but what about when you sprout wings like a baby chicken?”

  I kicked his ankle. It had only been a few days, but it felt like years since we’d really hung out. And before that it was all full moons and lovesick brothers.

  “No.” He pointed at my face accusingly. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Your face is leaking. Stop it right now.”

  “I’m just glad you don’t hate me, assbutt.”

  “Cut it out, buttbrain.” We’d discovered swear words together when we were seven and combined them in ways that made very little sense. It was comforting.

  “I still think you’re nuts,” he said.

  I hadn’t harvested any herbs for almost a week now, and if I waited any longer frost would claim them first. I needed the familiar snip of scissors, the scents of lemon balm and mint and lavender. It helped fill the space in my brain that would have otherwise been running like a hamster in a wheel. I sang a song, but I sang it like a girl, not a swan.

  I wrapped the stalks in red string and hung them over the wooden island in the kitchen where Dad had set up hooks for me in the ceiling. The roses from two weeks ago had dried well and would look pretty in the Ophelia’s Bouquet tea blend.

  I decided to do more reading for my essay, hoping that was a good enough excuse not to be running around the track. And I was even more determined to pass the year and graduate. The Renards wouldn’t take this, too. Neither would family tradition.

  I read about blood feuds in Renaissance Italy and the Viking holmgang, which was basically a trial by single combat. The most kick-ass wins. Here, Liv, fight my aunt Aisha.

  And the weregeld, where some violent crimes extracted a monetary fine, specifically to help curtail blood feuds. Steal my hair and you owe me fifty thousand dollars. The Renards could pay for my college tuition.

  I took a break, because even though it was interesting, it was depressingly familiar. Dad was pouring water over a pot of his favorite lemon-ginger tea. There was paint on his knuckles. “Did you train with Aisha?” he asked.

  “Yup.”

  “Good. I’m suddenly really keen on you knowing eight different ways to incapacitate someone.” He turned away when a knock on the door interrupted him. “Hopefully that’s the Taser I ordered you online.”

  Instead, Sonnet stood on the other side of the door, vibrating with rage.

  “Mei Lin is missing.”

  Usually we sat out in the garden for family meetings, but now it felt too exposed. Even the basement felt too exposed, and it was both underground and filled with training weapons. The aunts sat on benches under swords and spears and the rest of us nested on the floor. Some of the fathers were here, too, lined up on one of the benches. Sonnet had arrows in her hand, but there was nobody to shoot them at. Aunt Felicity was in a state, rushing back and forth with teapots of boiled flowers and handfuls of healing crystals. Agrippina sat straight-backed and expressionless. At least the loss of her cloak didn’t seem to have irreparably damaged her. Yet. The same could not be said of Sarafina. She’d walked into the forest days ago and hadn’t returned. Now we wondered if it was more than swan-sickness.

  I wondered, again, what form my swan-sickness would take. This time, though, I felt strangely calm about it all. At least it had been my choice. And it would protect those around me. It would protect Pierce.

  Mei Lin’s mother, Aunt Essie, began to cry, the tears on her cheeks glinting like arrowheads. Carrying a Taser in my backpack seemed abruptly reasonable.

  “Mei Lin is a survivor,” Aunt Aisha said. “We all are. That’s why we train you the way we do.” She touched Essie’s shoulder. “Mei Lin doesn’t have her cloak of feathers yet. And that’s what they want. That or her hair. They won’t hurt her.”

  It was a bit of a leap, but we all grabbed onto it. Mei Lin was hurting, there was no questioning that, but it wouldn’t kill her. She could still get out. We could still rescue her. They’d take her hair like they took mine, but she’d get over it.

  Even now, they could be using my hair. To do what? The thought sat like broken glass inside my mouth.

  “We go now,” Aunt Aisha said. “We hit them fast and hard.”

  “The Renards keep saying it’s not them,” I offered, even though I knew it wouldn’t make a difference.

  “The Renards lie.”

  “Maybe, but you’ve searched and searched and you haven’t found any proof, either,” I pointed out.

  Aunt Aisha pulled a pair of scissors from a basket on the table beside her. “The younger girls will have to cut their hair.”

  There was a gasp. It was as shocking and violent as anything else that had happened tonight. We kept our hair long. Tradition. I touched the back of my neck. The others were staring at me.

  “It will grow back,” Aunt Aisha insisted, though she didn’t look pleased about it either. Aunt Felicity was already wailing. She glared at her impatiently. “It’s more of a liability than a weapon for the little ones. If the Renards want our hair, we’ll take it first.”

  I’d been reading so much about feuds that I couldn’t help but think of the Iron Age women who burned down their villages themselves before seeing it fall into the hands of the enemies. I was so tired of having enemies.

  One of the cousins was already clutching her braid frantically. She was barely eight years old but Aunt Aisha crouched next to her, talking to her like she was a warrior. “You’re going undercover,” she said. “Like a spy. To protect us all. Can you do that?”

  She finally nodded, eyes shining with tears. “I’ll go first,” she said fiercely. “So the others aren’t scared. And that way Ana won’t be alone.”

  Blond hair drifted to the floor and was gathered up into red silk, stored away according to more tradition. I felt less inclined to make fun of it now. The snap of so many scissors was like swords leaving their scabbards.

  It was a sound of war.

  And it occurred to me that I’d already burned my best weapon.

  “How’d you feel about skipping first period?” I asked, pulling myself up into Pierce’s truck. His truck at least was exactly the same: full of books and dog hair. I used it to anchor my thoughts, which had turned from ferrets to rabid badgers.

  He slid me a glance. “How else are we going to find Mei Lin?”

  I’d already texted him about it, but I hadn’t wanted to take it for granted that he’d help me. Not with this. It was stupid of me. He’d be pissed off if he knew I’d wondered for even a second. Pierce touched my wrist. There was a small zing of electricity. “Okay?”

  I nodded, swallowing. “My aunts stormed the Renards house last night and two of them were arrested.” And still no Mei Lin.

  We drove around the school, around the hospital, and up and down the river. I squinted at every house, tree, and flower bed, hoping a clue would just materialize out of nowhere. Frustration tasted like vinegar and pepper, choking me.

  We drove around for another ten minutes until I couldn’t take the hopelessness for another second. “You may as well pull over. We’re not getting anywhere.” He hadn’t driven past the Renard house, but then I hadn’t asked him to. Not only were my aunts constantly circling overhead, but also I tried to keep him off the Renard radar as much as possible. Let them think he was Liv’s friend if it saved him. Because our kind of madness was contagious and there was no vaccine.

  Pierce sighed as if he was holding something back and didn’t want to tell me.

  “Ana, I found something in the shed.”

  I didn’t like the grimness to his voice. It fit too well with the dread on a constant boil in my belly. “What?”

  “Dead swans.”

&
nbsp; I went cold all over, my skin prickling painfully. “How many?”

  “Three.”

  I felt sick. “Mei Lin.”

  He shook his head, squeezing my fingers until I looked at him. “They were older than that. They’d…been there for a while. I asked Liv, but she said she’s never seen Jackson with her lot. And he’s definitely not talking to me.”

  My shoulders slumped. “I don’t even know what to do anymore. It’s like we’re stuck in a kaleidoscope of crazy. More so than usual, I mean. And that’s saying something.”

  I’d already suggested that someone other than the Renards might be involved, but Aunt Aisha just shook her head at me. “Don’t go looking for devils. We already have Renards.” Followed by: “If you don’t know who the enemy is, everyone becomes the enemy. Focus.”

  Because platitudes are so helpful.

  None of the other aunts would listen to me either. I considered writing them a thesis paper to prove my point.

  “It still doesn’t make sense that the Renards would have taken me somewhere else. Or Mei Lin.” I rummaged in my bag. “That’s it. I’m making a list.” I’d approach this like homework: plan, schedule, clear concise notes. “Let’s go in chronological order. Okay, so, one, the swans taken by the river. The dead swan at school.” I thought back, remembering the afternoon, the stained broken feathers, Rosalita’s stifled sobs. “Maybe it was about us giving ourselves away. If it wasn’t the Renards, then maybe whoever is really behind this was watching us and that’s how they knew to grab Rosalita. She freaked out.”

  He nodded slowly. “And she usually has the guys fighting over her. Dead giveaway.”

  “Still, all that stuff is pretty typical.”

  “I’d like to see your dictionary definition of typical.”

  “The guys at the dance were the weirdest. Renards don’t tend to run around in balaclavas. They want us to know it’s them.” I flipped the page. “And in the interest of full disclosure, they keep accusing us of leaving leg traps in the woods. Which we never have.”

  “What about the fox in the cage?”