Poison Princess

34

I shot up with a gasp, fresh from a nightmare. When I blinked open my eyes, my claws were extended, glinting in the dim moonlight that streamed through a dirty window.

Beside me, Selena and Matthew slept on. Earlier, the three of us had laid out sleeping bags around a cold hearth—we hadn’t dared to build a fire—then divided an energy bar. While we’d tried to sleep, Jackson had taken up watch in an adjoining room.

I stared down at my claws as I remembered my dream. The witch had been surrounded by shadowy figures, burning with that aggression, that overwhelming compulsion to kill them.

So she’d twirled in place until her leaf-strewn red hair spun around her head, emitting something into the air. Spores? Once she’d stopped in place, she’d assured her victims, “There is no shame in surrender.”

I’d expected the villagers to choke, writhing like her young admirer had. Even when sleeping, I’d braced for more ghastly images to stain my brain.

Instead, her victims had dropped to the ground with happy sighs, curling up on a grassy field, warmed by the sun.

Where was the fractured bone? The bits of flesh? The shrieks? The people had simply gone to sleep.

Yet they would never wake up.

Experiencing this dream was almost worse than the most gruesome ones. Her subtle evil haunted me. There hadn’t been a single shriek—because not one soul had been aware enough to fight for his life. . . .

As my claws began to recede, I wiggled my fingers, watching the light play over the thorns. I realized I was growing accustomed to them. The sight didn’t shock me at all anymore. In fact, I felt . . . numb.

I was gradually becoming more like her. The abilities I’d once considered a gift now seemed more like a curse.

Once my nails returned to normal, I rose, seeking Jackson. Seeking comfort. I just needed to be near him, knew it would make me feel better.

In the next room, I drew up short to find him sleeping on his watch, sitting upright on a cushioned window bench.

One of his long legs was bent, his crossbow balanced precariously on his knee, his other leg stretched out in front of him. He rested his head against the window. Had I ever seen him sleep?

No. Because he’d been watching over me every night. Well, except for at Selena’s. I wasn’t yet sure where he’d slept then.

He had dark circles under his eyes and his brow was creased with worry. So much responsibility. I felt a pang. No wonder he drank so much.

I climbed up on the bench, kneeling before him, and smoothed the backs of my fingers along one cheek. Still he didn’t wake. He must be exhausted.

I felt a welling of tenderness for this boy—my cursing, hard-drinking, ladies’-man protector.

I sighed. Was he my protector? Could he possibly prefer bonne à rien over flawless Selena? As much as I hated to admit it, she suited him better. In fact, I didn’t see how anyone could suit him better than she did.

If I found out they’d had sex, would I still want him?

So many questions swirled between us, so many secrets. I was involved in some kind of battle that I wanted no part of, I was a marked target because of abilities I’d never asked for and didn’t know how to control, and Jackson was the only thing in my life that made me feel sane, made me want to fight for a future.

Tilting my head, I grazed my thumb over his bottom lip, remembering our kiss. What I wouldn’t give to go back to that night, to explain my fears to him, to ask him to go slower.

“Hey,” he suddenly murmured. His eyes were hooded, a lazy smile beginning to curve his lips. “Now, this is what I like to wake up to, peekôn.”

If I’d thought happy and smiling was a good look on him, a sleepy Jackson tugged at my heart.

He set away his bow, then looped an arm around me to drag me to his chest. When I relaxed against him, he brought his knees up on both sides of me.

Against my hair, he rasped, “Honeysuckle. You liking ole Jack right now?”

“Yes,” I answered honestly, luxuriating in his heat, his strong arms around me. I wanted to burrow even closer to him.

“Ah, bébé, I feel like I ain’t seen you in weeks.”

“I know, me too.”

He cupped my face, meeting my gaze. “If I’d known I would wake up to this, I’d have gone to sleep earlier.” Then he tensed. “Wait. Why was I asleep?”

He scrambled to his feet, sending me tumbling before he caught my arm and steadied me on the bench. “What the hell! I fell asleep on watch?”

Selena stirred in the next room but didn’t wake.

“Jackson, you haven’t been getting any rest for days. Weeks, even. You passed out.”

“And you got the drop on me?” He snatched up his bow, scanning out of the windows. The coast must’ve been clear, because he lowered the weapon. “We could’ve been surrounded by Baggers. I doan know what happened. This has never happened.”

“Nobody can go this long with so little sleep.”

“I have in the past.” He sank back down on the bench, gazing out. “A fine job I’m doing taking care of you.”

“You have been! I owe my life to you.”

“How long can I keep you safe? It’s only goan to get worse and worse. We’re heading into places where folks lived off the land and hunted, where there weren’t Wal-Marts on every corner with aisles of cans to live off of. They’re goan to be starving, Evie. Desperate.”

The new food chain . . .

“I’ll be taking you straight into danger, and it might be for nothing. You got to be wondering if your grandmother’s even alive.”

“She is.”

“Why you sound so confident about her? You’ve had more visions, haven’t you? Damn it, why haven’t you told me?” In a surly tone, he added, “Bet you told coo-yôn.”

How to reply to that one?

“It’s like you two communicate in some way I can’t understand.” He exhaled a breath. “I got to accept that, me.” Then his brows drew together. “Why’s that boy always talking about the future? You said he lectured you—why would he be lecturing a psychic like you?”

I began pulling at a new hole in my jeans.

“Is he . . . like you? Can he see the future?”

Though I might not tell Jackson my disturbing secrets, I couldn’t lie to him anymore. “I don’t have visions of the future, Jackson. I am not psychic.” But I also couldn’t tell him Matthew’s secrets.

Jackson flashed me a disappointed look. “I saw your drawings. I’ve watched you get nosebleeds.”

I bit my bottom lip, gazing out through a filmy windowpane.

When I glanced back, he had that analytical look on his face. Uh-oh. “The day we rescued that boy, you told me you didn’t think you’d be alive for long without his help. He ain’t simple, is he?” When I eventually shook my head, Jackson added in a mutter, “I’d kinda hoped he was.”

“He’s just . . . different.”

“When are you goan to come clean with me? What is he to you?”

“I started seeing him just before the Flash. We do communicate differently. He’s one of the voices I hear.”

“Heh. You haven’t had a single nosebleed since we picked up that boy.”

I swallowed, uneasy with where this was going.

“This is like those puzzles we used to do in school. If some things are true and some are false, you can figure out a solution. If you haven’t told me any lies tonight—”

“I haven’t!”

“—then I can back my way into the truth. One. You said you can’t see the future, but you didn’t answer when I asked if that coo-yôn could. Two. For some reason, you think his help can protect your life. Three. You once told me your visions felt like they were being shoved into your head. Maybe ’cause they were?”

Cunning, perceptive Jackson.

Realization lit his expression. “You’ve been growing plants somehow, and he’s been seeing the future? It makes sense.”

I just stared at him.

“Did he send you those visions to protect you?”

Why bother denying it? “He tried to get me ready for the Flash. I barely listened to him.”

Jackson tensed. “Then why does he keep talking about you dying, Evangeline?”

Oh boy. “When he talks about me meeting Death, he’s doesn’t mean it like you think. More like I should be prepared to face a big-bad or something. I know it sounds weird, but he considers Death to be a . . . person. Someone who can be defeated.”

A measure of tension eased from Jackson’s shoulders. The idea of a fightable adversary was something he could handle. “So both of you got gifts.” Then his face fell. “That’s why you like each other so much.”

“It’s not like that with Matthew and me. He doesn’t see me in that light.”

“He’s a sixteen-year-old boy, Evie. He sees you in only one light! Trust me on this, cher.”

“Well, I look at him like a sibling.”

“Like I did with Clotile?” he asked, and I thought he was holding his breath.

“Exactly. He’s a kid brother to me.”

Jackson briefly closed his eyes. At the memory of Clotile? Or from relief at my words? Both?

Had he truly believed I was interested in Matthew? I could only imagine what all Selena had told him when I wasn’t around. Doubt-mongering bitch.

Jackson met my gaze. “Got something for you.” He reached for his nearby bag, rooted around inside, then produced a bottle of Sprite.

My lips parted as he handed it to me. “Did you know that was my favorite?” He might as well have presented me with a piece of priceless jewelry. Just like with the gum, every time we drank a soda or ate a candy bar, there was one less treat in the world, never to be replenished.

“Of course. I did see you at five lunch periods. I’ve been saving it for when you could enjoy it—alone.”

I unscrewed the top, handing it back to him. “We will share it.”

“Oh, you’ll drink after me?”

My cheeks flushed. “Sometimes I can be immature, Jackson. I know it’s not always easy to be patient with me.”

As we passed the bottle between us, he grew serious again. “I’m not goan to be able to keep charging forward blindly. And there’s so much more than you’re telling me. Why woan you trust me? Is it because of the stuff I did back in school?”

Arcana means secrets. “It’s not you, Jackson, it’s me.”

He scowled at that, about to question me more, but the sun had begun to rise.

“I got to head out to work, me,” he said. “I’d leave Selena here as a guard, but her bow shoots better from a distance, and I need her for cover. I can’t get in and out of a camp full of soldiers without her.”

“I understand.”

“You woan have to worry about Baggers today. And hell, coo-yôn can probably see any threats coming, huh?”

“Don’t worry about me. Just please be careful.” Though I knew he was brave and resourceful, I didn’t want him to go, dreading the danger he was about to wade into. “I want you to make it back, okay?”

“I could almost think you really care about me.”

“I do really care!”

“About having a bodyguard to protect you.”

“You’re more than that to me,” I said quietly. “And you have to know that—so why are you acting like you don’t?”

“Then prove it.” He eased closer, until our faces were inches apart. “Tell me your secrets.”

God, I loved it when he looked at me like this, with his eyes so steady and . . . affectionate?

“Trust me, ma belle. Can you do that?”

Ma belle meant “my pretty,” but also “my girlfriend.” So how did Jackson mean it?

Just then, glaring beams of sunlight hit us through the window, like . . . winter sunshine.

The spell was broken between us. Jackson shifted back to his usual restless self, his mind on his upcoming task. “Just think about it, Evie. We’ll talk when I get back.”

We woke Selena and Matthew, both groggy and in pissy moods. I was too nervous to care much.

Jackson deemed the house too plain a target, so we camouflaged the van down the road for Matthew and me to hide in.

Before Selena and Jackson departed, he gripped Matthew’s upper arm, telling him in that steely tone, “You’re goan to stay here and watch out for Evie. Earn your keep for once. You see a chance to kill or die for her today, then you take it.”

When Matthew merely stared at him, Jackson reached into the weapon box and pulled out a sheathed machete, handing it to the boy.

Matthew laughed and dropped it.

Jackson’s fists clenched, his temper at the ready.

But Selena quickly said, “They’ll be hidden here, J.D. They’ll be fine.”

Jackson turned to me. “On parle quand j’reviens.” We’ll talk when I get back.

“Prends soin de toi,” I replied. Take care of yourself.

Selena didn’t like this exchange whatsoever. “Hey, handsome, we don’t need to take both bikes. Wastes gas.”

When Jackson agreed with a shrug and mounted up, Selena slung her bow over her shoulder and hopped on behind him. With exaggerated relish, she wrapped her arms around his torso, pressing her long legs against his.

My spot. That was where I belonged. My claws grew slowly, menacingly, and it felt good. I tucked them into my palms so no one could see, but Matthew chuckled behind me.

Over her shoulder, Selena cast me a triumphant expression. And when she laid her head against his back, I was certain he could feel her smiling against him.