Halo

18 Dark Prince

Even though it was my most interesting class by a long shot, I wasn’t in the mood for lit. I wanted to spend more time with Xavier; to be separated from him always gave me physical pain, like a cramp in my chest. When we got to the classroom, I tightened my grip on his fingers and pulled him toward me. No matter how much time we spent together, it never seemed to be enough — I always wanted more. When it came to him, I had a ravenous appetite that could never be satisfied.

“It won’t matter if I’m just a few minutes late,” I wheedled.

“Nope,” Xavier said, prying away my fingers that were now clutching his shirtsleeve. “You’re going to be on time.”

“You’ve turned into such a grandma,” I grumbled. He ignored my comment and deposited my books into my arms. These days, he rarely allowed me to carry anything for longer than was necessary. I must have looked so lazy to everyone else, always walking around with Xavier by my side, dutifully carrying my belongings.

“You know, I can carry my own stuff, Xav, I’m not an invalid,” I said.

“I know,” he replied, flashing his adorable half-smile. “But I enjoy being at your disposal.”

Before he could stop me, I locked my arms around his neck and pulled him into an alcove between the lockers. It was his own fault really, standing there with his soft hair flopping over his eyes, his school shirt coming untucked, and the plaited leather band hugging his smooth tanned wrist as if it were a part of him. If he didn’t want to be mauled, he shouldn’t have put himself right in my path.

Xavier dropped his own books and kissed me back forcefully, his hands holding my neck, his body pressed close against mine. The few students hurrying by to classes stared openly at us.

“Get a room,” someone sniped, but I ignored them. For that moment space and time didn’t exist — there was only the two of us in our own personal dimension, and I couldn’t remember where I was or even who I was. I couldn’t distinguish where my being stopped and his began. It made me think of a line from Jane Eyre when Rochester tells Jane he loves her as if she were his own flesh. That was exactly how it felt loving Xavier.

Then he broke away.

“You are very bad, Miss Church,” he said, breathing heavily, a smile playing around his lips. He put on a genteel voice. “And I am powerless when it comes to your charms. Now I believe we are both late for class.”

Luckily for me, Miss Castle wasn’t the sort of teacher to be bothered about punctuality. She handed me a folder as I came in and took a seat at the front of the room.

“Hello, Beth,” she said. “We’re just discussing the introduction to third quarter. I’ve decided to allocate you all a creative writing task to be done with a partner. Together you’ll need to come up with a poem to read to the class on the subject of love, to preface our upcoming study of the great Romantic poets Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats, and Byron. Does anyone have a favorite poem they’d like to share before we start?”

“I do,” said a well-spoken voice from the back of the room. I scanned the faces to identify the speaker who had a distinct English accent. An awed silence fell over the rest of the class. It was the newcomer. Brave of him, I thought, to go out on a limb on his first day. Either that or he was enormously conceited.

“Thank you, Jake!” Miss Castle said enthusiastically. “Would you like to come up here to recite it?”

“Certainly.”

The boy that sauntered to the front of the room was not what I had expected. Something about his appearance made my heart plunge into my stomach. He was tall and lean, and his straight dark hair reached his shoulders. His cheekbones were sharp, giving him a gaunt, hollow look. His nose drooped slightly at the tip, and his brilliant jade-green eyes gazed out from beneath low-set brows. His lips curled in a permanent sneer. It made him look intolerant of his surroundings.

He was dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt, and a dark tattoo of a serpent wound around his forearm. He was totally unselfconscious about not being in school uniform on his first day. In fact, he had the confident swagger of someone who considers himself above the rules. There was no denying it — he was beautiful. But there was something about him that suggested more than beauty. Was it grace, poise, charm, or something more dangerous?

Jake’s smoldering gaze swept across the classroom. Before I could duck my head, his eyes locked with mine and lingered there. He gave a self-assured smile before beginning.

“ ‘Annabel Lee,’ a ballad by Edgar Allan Poe,” he announced smoothly. “It might interest you to know that Poe married his thirteen-year-old cousin, Virginia, when he was twenty-seven. She died two years later from TB.”

The class stared at him entranced. When he began to speak, his voice seemed to flow out like rich syrup and filled the room. It was the cultured, confident voice of someone used to having things his own way.

It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea:

But we loved with a love that was more than love

I and my Annabel Lee;

With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven

Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,

In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her high-born kinsmen came

And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,

Went envying her and me—

Yes! — that was the reason (as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we—

Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the angels in heaven above,

Nor the demons down under the sea,

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee,

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling — my darling — my life and my bride,

In the sepulchre there by the sea,

In her tomb by the sounding sea.

When Jake finished, I couldn’t help but notice that every female in the room, including Miss Castle, was enraptured, gazing at him as if their knight in shining armor had just arrived. Even I had to admit it was an impressive delivery. His recitation of the poem had been poignant, as though Annabel Lee truly had been the love of his life. By the look of some of the girls, they were ready to jump up and console him for his loss.

“That was a very expressive rendition,” Miss Castle breathed. “We must keep you in mind when Jazz and Poetry night comes along. All right, everyone, I hope that’s inspired you to come up with some poetry of your own. I’d like you to get into pairs and brainstorm ideas. The form is entirely up to you. Give yourselves free rein — complete poetic license!”

The class began to rearrange themselves so they sat in pairs around the room. On his way back to his seat, Jake stopped in front of my desk.

“Want to be partners?” he purred. “I hear you’re new as well.”

“I’ve been here for a while now,” I said, not appreciating the comparison.

Jake interpreted my response as an acceptance of his offer and slid easily into the seat beside me. He leaned back in his chair, hands resting comfortably behind his head.

“I’m Jake Thorn,” he said, looking at me with his hooded, dark eyes. He held out a hand, the epitome of good manners.

“Bethany Church,” I replied, gingerly proffering my own hand.

Instead of shaking it, as I had expected, he turned it over and brought it to his lips in a ridiculous gesture of gallantry. “Delighted to make your acquaintance.”

I nearly laughed outright. Did he expect me to take him seriously? Where did he think he was? I would have laughed had I not found myself looking into his eyes. They were dark green with a burning intensity, and yet there was a jaded expression on his face that suggested he had seen more of the world than most his age. His gaze swept over me, and I got the feeling he didn’t miss a thing. He wore a silver pendant around his neck: a half-moon etched with strange symbols.

He drummed his fingers casually on the desk. “So,” he said. “Any thoughts?”

I stared at him blankly.

“For the poem,” he reminded me with a raised eyebrow.

“You start,” I replied. “I’m still thinking.”

“Very well,” he said. “Any preference for particular metaphors? Rain forests or rainbows, anything like that?” He laughed at some private joke. “I’m partial to reptiles myself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked curiously.

“To be partial to something means you like it.”

“I know what partial means; but why reptiles?”

“Tough skinned and cold-blooded,” Jake said, flashing a smile.

He turned away from me suddenly and scrawled a note on a scrap of paper, scrunched it into a ball, and flicked it at the two goth girls, Alicia and Alexandra, who were sitting in front of us, bent over their notebooks, writing rapidly. They looked across in irritation, which soon faded when they saw who their correspondent was. They quickly scanned the contents of the note, whispering excitedly to each other. Alicia peeked at Jake from under her heavy bangs and nodded almost imperceptibly. Jake winked and, seeming pleased with his efforts, settled back in his chair.

“So the theme is love,” he resumed.

“What?” I asked stupidly.

“For our poem.” He slid his gaze over me. “Have you forgotten again?”

“I was just distracted.”

“Wondering what I was saying to those girls?” he asked me slyly.

“No!” I said a little too quickly.

“I’m just trying to make friends,” he said, his face suddenly very open and honest. “It’s tough being the new kid in town.”

I felt a sudden pang of sympathy for him. “I’m sure you’ll make friends quickly,” I said. “Everyone was really welcoming when I came. And I’m always here if you need someone to show you around.”

His lip curled up in a smile. “Thanks, Bethany. I’ll be sure to take you up on that offer.”

We considered ideas in silence for a while until Jake spoke again. “So what do you do for kicks around here?”

“Most people just hang out with friends, go to the beach, stuff like that,” I replied.

“No, I meant what do you do for kicks?”

“Oh.” I paused. “I spend most of my time with my family… and my boyfriend.”

“Ah, there’s a boyfriend? How wholesome.” Jake smiled. “Not that I’m surprised. Of course you have a boyfriend — with a face like that. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Xavier Woods,” I said, embarrassed by his compliment.

“Will he be joining the priesthood anytime soon?”

I scowled at him. “It’s a beautiful name,” I said defensively. “It means light. Haven’t you ever heard of Saint Francis Xavier?”

Jake grinned. “Wasn’t he the one that went psycho and moved into a cave.”

“Actually I think it was more of a conscious decision to live simply,” I corrected.

“I see,” said Jake, “my mistake.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

“How do you like your new home?” Jake asked finally.

“Venus Cove is a nice place to live and the people are genuine,’ ” I said, “but someone like you might find it dull.”

“I don’t think so,” he said, staring at me. “Not now — not with people like you around.”

The bell rang, and I packed up my books quickly, eager to go and meet Xavier.

“See you soon, Bethany,” said Jake. “Perhaps we’ll work more productively next time.”

I was seized by a sudden wave of insecurity when I caught up with Xavier at the lockers. For some reason I felt unsettled and wanted nothing more than to feel his protective arms around me, even though they had already spent most of the day in that position. As he put his books away, I ducked under his arm and clung to him like a limpet.

“Whoa,” he said, his arms closing around me. “It’s good to see you too. You okay?”

“Yes,” I said, burying my face in his shirt and inhaling his familiar scent. “Just missed you.”

“We’ve been apart an hour.” Xavier laughed. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

We made our way to the parking lot together. Gabriel and Ivy had granted Xavier permission to drive me home occasionally, which he saw as great progress. His car was parked in its usual spot under the shade of a row of oak trees, and he opened the door for me. I wasn’t sure what he thought might happen if I was permitted to open my own door. Maybe he was worried it would fly off its hinges and flatten me or I might sprain my wrist trying to open it. Or maybe he was just brought up with good old-fashioned manners.

Xavier didn’t switch on the ignition until I had put my seat belt on and stowed my bag safely in the backseat. Gabriel had told him I was susceptible to pain and injury and that my human form could be damaged. Xavier was taking it all very much to heart and pulled out of the parking lot with an expression of intense concentration.

But even Xavier’s careful driving wasn’t able to prevent what happened next. As we were turning onto the main road, a shiny black motorcycle shot out from nowhere and cut across us. Xavier slammed on the brakes, sending the Chevy lurching forward and narrowly avoiding a collision. We veered to the right, hitting the curb. I was flung forward, my seat belt catching me and throwing me painfully back against the seat. The motorcycle screamed away down the street, leaving a cloud of exhaust in its wake. Xavier stared dumbfounded after it, before quickly turning to make sure I was all right. Once he was satisfied that I was unharmed he was able to unleash his anger.

“What the hell was that?” he fumed. “What an idiot! Did you see who was driving? If I ever find out who that was, so help me God, I’ll introduce his head to a pole.”

“It was hard to see his face under the helmet,” I said quietly.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Xavier growled. “You don’t see too many Yamaha V Star 250s around here.”

“How do you know the bike model?” I asked.

“I’m a boy. We like engines.”

Xavier drove me home, glaring suspiciously at passing cars as though the incident was likely to be repeated. By the time we pulled up in front of Byron, he seemed to have calmed down a little.

“I made lemonade,” Ivy said as she opened the front door. She looked so domestic in her apron that both of us had to smile. “Why don’t you come in, Xavier?” she asked. “You can do your homework with Bethany.”

“Uh, no, thanks, I’ve got some chores I promised Mom I’d do,” Xavier hedged.

“Gabriel’s not here.”

“In that case, sure, thanks.”

My sister ushered us both inside and shut the door. Phantom charged from the kitchen when he heard our voices and knocked against our legs by way of greeting.

“Homework first, walk later,” I said.

We spread our books out on the dining room table. Xavier had to finish a psychology report, and I had to analyze a political cartoon for history. The cartoon was of King Louis XVI standing beside a throne and looking very pleased with himself. I was supposed to be interpreting the significance of the objects around him.

“What do you call that thing he’s holding?” I asked Xavier. “I can’t see it properly.”

“It looks like a fire poker to me,” Xavier said.

“I highly doubt that Louis XVI poked his own fires. I think it’s a scepter. And what’s he’s wearing?”

“Mmm… a poncho?” Xavier suggested.

I rolled my eyes.

“I’ll get top grades with your help.”

In truth, the homework I had been assigned and the grades I would be awarded for my effort, didn’t interest me in the slightest. The things I wanted to learn didn’t come from textbooks; they came from experiences and interactions. But Xavier was concentrating on his psych report, and I didn’t want to distract him any further so I put my head down and peered at the cartoon. My attention span turned out to be unnaturally short.

“If you could take back one thing you’ve done in your life, what would it be?” I asked, tickling Phantom’s nose with my fluffy-tipped pen. He caught the pen between his teeth, thinking it was some kind of furry animal and trotted off victoriously.

Xavier put down his own pen and looked at me quizzically. “Don’t you mean: What is the independent variable in the Stanford Prison Experiment?”

“Yawn,” I said.

“I’m afraid some of us aren’t blessed with divine knowledge.”

I sighed. “I can’t believe that stuff really interests you?”

“It doesn’t. But I have no choice, Beth,” he said. “I have to get into college and get a decent job if I want to succeed — it’s reality.” He laughed. “Well, I guess it’s not your reality, but it sure as hell is mine.”

I didn’t have an answer for that. The idea of Xavier getting older, of having to work the same job day in and day out to provide for a family until the day he died, made me want to cry. I wanted his life to be easy, and I wanted him to spend it with me.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

He slid his chair closer to me. “Don’t be,” he said. “I’d much rather be doing this…” And he leaned across and kissed my hair, his lips moving along until they found my chin and finally my mouth.

“I’d much rather spend all of my time talking to you, being with you, discovering you,” he said. “But just because I’ve walked into this crazy fantasy, doesn’t mean I can just abandon my other plans, much as I might want to. My parents still expect me to get into a top college.” He frowned. “It’s important to them.”

“Is it important to you?” I asked.

“I suppose,” he replied. “What else is there?”

I nodded — I knew what it was like to have to live up to family expectations.

“You have to do what makes you happy as well,” I said.

“That’s why I have you.”

“How am I supposed to study if you go on saying things like that?” I complained.

“There’s more where that came from,” Xavier teased.

“Is that what you spend your spare time doing?”

“You got me. All I do is write down lines to impress women.”

“Women?”

“Sorry — one woman,” he rectified as I scowled at him. “One woman who is worth a thousand women.”

“Oh, shut up,” I said. “Don’t try and dig yourself out of this one.”

“So gracious.” Xavier shook his head. “So forgiving and compassionate.”

“Don’t push it, buddy,” I said, putting on a thuggish voice.

Xavier hung his head.

“I apologize… jeez, I’m whipped.”

I continued with the history task while he finished writing his report. He still had a stack of homework left, but in the end I proved too much of a distraction. He had just completed his third trig problem when I felt his hand wander over to my lap. I slapped it gently.

“Keep studying,” I said when he looked up from the page. “No one said you could stop.”

He smiled and scrawled something at the bottom of the answer sheet. The solution now read:

Find x if (x) = 2sin3x, over the domain -2π < x < 2π

“Stop goofing around!” I said.

“I’m not! I’m stating a truth. You’re my solution to everything,” Xavier replied. “The end result is always you. X always equals Beth.”