Thief Eyes

Chapter 13

I woke to a cold blue sky. An arm was draped over me, not a bear’s arm—a boy’s. Ari lay on his side, propped up on one elbow and staring at me through his human eyes as though he feared I’d disappear if he moved.

“You came back,” I said.

“Once I was sure I wouldn’t hurt you.” Wind tugged at his white hair. “Once I knew it was me in control, and not the bear.”

My throat still hurt, but I felt like I’d slept—really slept—for the first time in ages. “Thank you,” I whispered.

Ari’s mouth quirked into a smile. “So I managed to do something right, then?”

I made a strangled sound, half a laugh and half a sob. I put my hands slowly to his face and pressed my lips to his. Heat rose in me. I didn’t know if it came from my magic or not. Ari’s lips were so soft. I reached for his hair, remembering that it was soft, too, as soft and coarse as his polar bear fur.

Ari drew away with a gasp and sat up. His own hands shook as he looked at me. “No,” he said, but he sounded uncertain.

What did he mean, no? I sat up, too. I remembered falling asleep, buried in his fur. He hadn’t minded then. “You didn’t mind in Muninn’s mountain.”

Ari looked right at me. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend then.”

He was right, I knew he was right—I didn’t want him to be right. What was wrong with me? Was I no better than Dad? “You chased the nightmares away.” I looked down, realizing how stupid that sounded.

Ari shut his eyes, as if my words had hurt him. “I won’t be the reason you break up with him.”

“I wouldn’t—”

“And if you don’t break up with Jared, I won’t be that guy you feel guilty about and try to pretend never happened. I’d rather go a little longer between girlfriends than be someone else’s stupid mistake. Or maybe you’d tell yourself I don’t count, because it was only Iceland, thousands of miles from your home—no, Haley.” He sounded more sure now.

“I’d never pretend you didn’t count,” I said, but I couldn’t argue with the rest. I wanted to, though. Just like I wanted to kiss him again, not caring if it made sense or not. I jammed my hands into my pockets. The knuckles of my right hand brushed burning metal. The fire in me rose in response. I cursed and pulled my hands out, filling my mind with thoughts of cool moonlit polar bear fur. The heat subsided.

“Are you okay?” Ari asked.

“I’m fine,” I snapped.

Ari looked away from me. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and fiddled with it, as if the battery might decide it wasn’t really dead. Had Jared tried to call, after the battery had died?

It had taken Jared and me years to fall in love. How could I fall for Ari after only a few days? I got to my feet and pulled my backpack over my shoulders.

Ari shoved the phone back into his pocket, not looking at me. “We should start walking.”

I pictured hours and hours of walking, not looking at Ari, trying not to wonder what it would feel like to hold his hand, to touch his hair. I got to my feet and pulled on my backpack. “Let’s run,” I said, and burst into a jog without waiting for Ari to answer.

The pack bounced on my back—I didn’t care. Muscles stiff with sleep loosened as I ran, and I settled into a comfortable lope beside the water. Dirt turned to pavement—real pavement—beneath my feet. Around me the gray stones were bright with autumn moss. Snow streaked the distant hills.

Behind me I heard Ari breathing hard. I slowed down, into the easier pace I used when running with Jared. It doesn’t matter, I told myself as my feet slapped the pavement, not sure if I meant Jared or Ari or both of them. All that mattered was getting to Hlidarendi, returning the coin, and figuring out what to do about the fire in me—if anything could be done about that.

Ari caught up, his face red, sweat dripping from his hair. “This was easier”—he gasped—“as a bear.”

I dropped to a brisk walk, knowing that if I went any slower my legs would cramp up. I pulled off my jacket. My skin felt warm and flushed, in spite of the cool breeze, but it was good heat, for once. Normal heat, like after any run.

Ari wiped a hand across his sweaty face. We reached another intersection, and he turned left, so that we were following the fjord out the other side. “I guess it’s true—what they say. About American girls—being fast—”

I thwapped him with my jacket. Ari laughed. “Hey, I’m not the one who set that pace!” He took off his jacket, too, and draped it over his shoulders. “Maybe if I just keep it off I’ll stay human. Do you think it could be that easy? I didn’t even know the coat was bearskin until Muninn said so.”

I wrapped my jacket around my waist. “What’s it like?” I asked. “Being a bear?”

Ari looked down at the pale white hairs on the backs of his hands. We passed a farmhouse. A pair of black-capped terns perched on the roof, watching us. “I could have killed him, you know. The sorcerer.”

“No one would blame you for that.” I kicked a black stone down the road. The volcanic rock was lighter than I’d expected. It disappeared into the distance.

“You don’t understand. I would have enjoyed it. It would have been fun.”

The memory of falling asleep in his soft fur made me want to cry. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“This time.” Ari made a fist and slowly opened it, as if fascinated by the way his own fingers worked. “This isn’t like some cartoon where the bears are all funny and cuddly with googly Disney eyes.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” We caught up with my rock. I picked it up and stared at its air-pocked surface. Ari watched me, his skeptical look making clear he thought I still didn’t understand. “Listen, Ari, I know a few things about polar bears—real polar bears. They don’t turn and run just because they’re scared they might hurt someone. They don’t wait to come back until they’re sure they won’t, either. They don’t run at all, not unless they’re chasing down prey.”

Ari kicked a patch of moss at the side of the road. “It’s still dangerous. If I get angry as a bear, it’s worse than as a human.”

“This whole mess we’re in is dangerous.” I glanced at Ari’s hands. His palms were still very faintly red where I’d burned him. “If anyone should be worried about being dangerous, it’s me.”

Ari scowled. “That’s not the same thing.”

“No.” I let the rock fall. “Because you can’t bring buildings down with your magic. Maybe you were right to run away.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Ari said.

“I won’t if you won’t.” I drew a breath. “You know, if we can’t fix the memory thing, I won’t run home to America when this is all done. I won’t leave you alone here.”

Ari shrugged uncomfortably. “You don’t have to stay because you feel sorry for me.”

“Idiot!” I almost kicked him. “I wouldn’t stay because I felt sorry for you.” He didn’t want to kiss me—he might even be right about that—but that didn’t mean we weren’t friends, or that being friends wasn’t important. “I won’t abandon you.” Not when you’re a bear, and not when you’re human, either. “Jared would agree, you know.”

“That you should stay here with me instead of him?” Ari laughed. “I doubt that.”

“That friends don’t abandon each other,” I said sharply.

A truck rumbled along the road behind us. We moved onto the shoulder as it passed. Wind blew the grasses at our feet and rippled the surface of the fjord. Ari jammed his hands into his pockets as we walked on. “The thing is,” he said slowly, “if it turns out I change every night, with or without the jacket? Even if we fix everyone’s memories, I have a problem then. Hard to go to college as a bear—never mind getting a job or playing gigs.”

Maybe you could stick to matinees. That wouldn’t work in Iceland, though, where the winter days were as short as the summer nights. “You could migrate. Like an arctic tern.” I stifled a giggle. “Sorry. I shouldn’t joke.”

“Of course you should joke.” Ari shook his white hair out of his eyes. “Hey, I could be the first polar bear at the South Pole. Go visit the penguins. What do you think?”

“I think there are no penguins at the South Pole, only at the coast.” I laughed, and Ari laughed, too. I pulled the granola from my pack, and we ate it as we continued on. We veered away from the water for a bit, then turned left, leaving the main road behind. A harbor town came into view below us. The bright red-and blue-roofed houses reminded me of my run through Reykjavik, what seemed a lifetime ago.

We came to a small gas station. Wind whistled through its broken windows, and the door swung open on its hinges. I rubbed my bare arms, though the wind still didn’t seem cold to me. How far away had the earthquake been felt?

A girl and boy on bicycles circled around the parking lot while a woman stood nearby, talking into a cell phone. Across the road, I saw more emergency vehicles beside a huge orange tent. A few people sat in lawn chairs by the tent, talking quietly. Down toward the harbor, I saw smaller tents in some of the yards, as well as more people talking in the streets. It didn’t look like anyone was hurt, but the hurt people wouldn’t have been standing around outside, would they?

“This is my fault,” I said.

Ari gave my hand a quick squeeze. “Not only yours. Come on, let’s see if we can find a bus schedule.” He started toward the gas station door.

The boy on the bicycle headed the same way, not seeing us. We quickly stepped out of his path, but then the bicycle hit a rock, and he tumbled to the ground.

Ari and I ran to his side, even as the girl stopped pedaling. I reached for the boy to help him up. He flinched as if burned, burst into tears, and ran wailing to the woman. She flipped her phone closed and stroked his hair.

The girl sat on her bicycle, balanced on her toes. She looked right at us. I smiled, even though she couldn’t see us.

She smiled back. “Are you ghosts?” she asked solemnly.

I started. “I—I don’t know.” Was the spell broken? No, the boy hadn’t seen me, though he’d felt my touch.

The girl nodded, still solemn. “I see ghosts. My grandma says some people can.” She reached into her pocket and offered me a piece of black licorice.

I took it. “Thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome!” She turned and pedaled away, winding through the parking lot toward the woman and boy.

I tore the licorice in half, gave a piece to Ari, and popped the other into my mouth. It was salty. My lips scrunched up, but then I decided I liked it. “A gift,” I whispered. Unlike with Muninn or Svan or the fire spirits, there’d been no price—it was just a gift.

A pair of backpackers headed down the road and into the parking lot. They walked over to the woman. “Do you know—is there a bus today?” one of them asked in English.

The woman answered in English, more stilted than the Icelandic she’d spoken on the phone. “The bus is canceled. Because of the earthquake.”

Ari and I looked at each other. The woman asked the backpackers where they were headed; Akureyri, they said, and she opened her phone, saying she knew someone who might be able to give them a ride.

We could hitch a ride, too, sneak into someone’s backseat, only how would we know where they were going? Up above a gray falcon circled around, reminding me of the kids on their bicycles. Could we borrow bicycles and head south that way?

Ari took his jacket from his shoulders and stared at it thoughtfully. Wind pulled at the sleeves and at his hair. “Ah, well,” he said at last. He pulled the jacket back on and zipped it up. “There’s enough time to be human later.”

I gave him a puzzled look. Ari held out a hand and bowed slightly.

“Haley,” he said, “may I offer you a ride?”