Beautiful Darkness

The Way Back Home

I couldn't sleep anymore. I had crashed hard last night, on the familiar pine-board floor of Lena's room. We had both passed out, still wearing our clothes. Twenty-four hours later, it was weird to be in my own room, in a bed again, after sleeping between tree roots on muddy forest floors. I had seen too much. I got up and shut my window, in spite of the heat. There were too many things out there to be afraid of, too many to fight.

It was a wonder anyone in Gatlin slept at all.

Lucille didn't have that problem. She was kneading a pile of dirty clothes in the corner, fluffing up her bed for the night. That cat could sleep anywhere.

Not me. I flipped over. I was having a hard time getting comfortable with comfortable.

Me, too.

I smiled. Floorboards creaked, and my door swung open. Lena was standing in my doorway, in my faded Silver Surfer T-shirt. I could see the tip of pajama shorts underneath. Her hair was wet and she was wearing it down again, the way I liked it best.

"This is a dream, right?"

Lena closed the door behind her, the slightest twinkle in her gold and green eyes. "Do you mean your kind of dream or mine?" She pulled up the covers and climbed in next to me. She smelled like lemons and rosemary and soap. It had been a long road for both of us. She tucked her head under my chin and leaned against me. I could feel her questions and her fears, beneath the covers with us.

What is it, L?

She burrowed deeper into my chest.

Do you think you'll ever be able to forgive me? I know things won't be the same --

I tightened my arms around her, remembering all the times it felt like I'd lost her forever. Those moments wound themselves around me, threatening to crush me under their weight. There was no way I could be without her. Forgiving her wasn't a question.

Things will be different. Better.

But I'm not Light, Ethan. I'm something else. I'm ... complicated.

I reached under the covers and brought her hand to my mouth. I kissed her palm where the swirling black patterns hadn't disappeared. It almost looked like Sharpie, but I knew it would never fade.

"I know what you are, and I love you. Nothing can change that."

"I wish I could go back. I wish ..."

I pressed my forehead against hers. "Don't. You're you. You chose to be yourself."

"It's scary. My whole life, I've grown up with Dark and Light. It feels strange not to fit in anywhere." She flopped onto her back. "What if I'm not anything?"

"What if that's the wrong question?"

She smiled. "Yeah? What's the right one?"

"You're you. Who is that? Who does she want to be? And how can I get her to kiss me?"

She raised herself on her arms and leaned over my face, letting her hair tickle me. Her lips touched mine, and it was back -- the electricity, the current that ran between us. I had missed it, even as it burned my lips.

But something else was missing.

I leaned over and opened the drawer of my nightstand, reaching inside. "I think this belongs to you." I let the chain fall into her hand, her memories spilling between her fingers -- the silver button she had fastened on a paper clip, the red string, the tiny Sharpie I gave her on the water tower.

She stared into her hand, stunned.

"I added a couple of things." I untangled the charms so she could see the silver sparrow from Macon's funeral. It meant something so different now. "Amma says sparrows can travel a long way and always find their way back home. Like you did."

"Only because you came to get me."

"I had help. That's why I gave you this."

I held up the tag from Lucille's collar -- the one I carried in my pocket while we were searching for Lena and I was watching her through Lucille's eyes. Lucille looked at me calmly, yawning from the corner of the room.

"It's a conduit that allows Mortals to connect with a Caster animal. Macon explained it to me this morning."

"You had it all this time?"

"Yeah. Aunt Prue gave it to me. It works as long as you have the tag."

"Wait? How did your aunt end up with a Caster cat?"

"Arelia gave Lucille to my aunt so she could find her way around the Tunnels."

Lena started to untangle the chain, untying the knots that had formed since she lost it. "I can't believe you found it. When I left it behind, I never thought I'd see it again."

She hadn't lost it. She had taken it off. I resisted the urge to ask her why. "Of course I found it. It's got everything I've ever given you on it."

Lena closed her hand around it and looked away. "Not everything."

I knew what she was thinking about -- my mother's ring. She had taken off the ring, too, but I hadn't found it.

Not until this morning, when I discovered it lying on my desk, as if it had always been there. I reached into the drawer again and opened Lena's hand, pressing the ring into it. When she felt the cool metal, she looked up at me.

You found it?

No. My mom must have. It was sitting on my desk when I woke up.

She doesn't hate me?

It was a question only a Caster girl would ask. Had the ghost of my dead mother forgiven her? I knew the answer. I found the ring lying inside a book Lena loaned me, Pablo Neruda's Book of Questions, the chain serving as a bookmark under the lines "Is it true that amber contains / the tears of the sirens?"

My mother had been more of an Emily Dickinson fan, but Lena loved Neruda. It was like the sprig of rosemary I found in my mom's favorite cookbook last Christmas -- something of my mother's and something of Lena's, together, as if that was always how it was intended to be.

I answered Lena by fastening the chain around her neck, where it belonged. She touched it and stared into my brown eyes with her green and gold ones. I knew she was still the girl I loved, no matter what color her eyes were. There was no one color that could paint Lena Duchannes. She was a red sweater and a blue sky, a gray wind and a silver sparrow, a black curl escaping from behind her ear.

Now that we were together, it felt like home again.

Lena leaned into me, grazing my lips gently at first. Then she kissed me with an intensity that sent heat buzzing up my spine. I felt her find her way back to me, to our curves and our corners, the places our bodies fit together so naturally.

"Okay, this is definitely my dream." I smiled, running my fingers through her incredible mess of black hair.

I wouldn't be so sure about that.

She ran her hands across my chest as I breathed her in. My mouth wandered down her shoulder, and I pulled her closer until I could feel her hipbones digging gently into my skin. It had been so long, and I had missed her so much -- the taste of her, the smell of her. I held her face in my hands, kissing her even more deeply, and my heart began to race. I had to stop and catch my breath.

She looked into my eyes, leaning back on my pillow, careful not to touch me.

Is it any better? Are you -- am I hurting you?

No. It's better.

I looked at the wall and counted silently, steadying my heart.

You're lying.

I slid my arms around her, but she wouldn't look at me.

We'll never really be able to be together, Ethan.

We're together now.

I ran my fingers lightly down her arms, watching goose bumps spring up under my touch.

You're sixteen, and I'll be seventeen in two weeks. We have time.

Actually, in Caster years, I'm already seventeen. Count the moons. I'm older than you now.

She smiled a little, and I crushed her in my arms.

Seventeen. Whatever. Maybe by eighteen we'll figure it out, L.

L.

I sat up in bed, staring at her.

You know, don't you?

What?

Your real name. Now that you're Claimed, you know it, right?

She tilted her head to the side, with a half-smile. I grabbed her up into my arms, my face hovering just above hers.

What is it? Don't you think I should know?

Haven't you figured it out yet, Ethan? My name is Lena. It's the name I had when we met. It's the only name I'll ever have.

She knew it, but she wasn't going to tell me. I understood why. Lena was Claiming herself again. Deciding who she was going to be. Binding us back together with the things we had shared. I was relieved, because she would always be Lena to me.

The girl I met in my dreams.

I pulled the cover up over our heads. Though none of my dreams went remotely like this, in a matter of minutes, we were both sound asleep.