Rebel Heart
Page 62
The heartstone burns, fierce an steady. Like the heart of the fire in the hearth. Where’s Jack? He must be here somewheres.
You came, says DeMalo. Just like I said. Of your own free will.
So. He don’t know how I got here. Not yet anyways.
There’s somebody still in that room, I says.
I don’t think so, he says. He comes an pushes the door open. Shows me. It’s a bedroom. Whitewashed walls, a plain bed with a plain white cover. A small chest. Candles on the walls. No, he says. No one but us.
No Jack. Nowhere fer him to be hidin. He ain’t here. But still the heartstone burns.
We’re alone, I says.
Yes, he says.
But there was somebody else here, I says. Before I come in.
Just me and the servant, he says. And then the two guards, but you came in with them. Are you all right? You’re flushed.
I’m fine, I says, fine.
He touches my face. We have so much to talk about, he says. There’s so much I want to tell you, so much I want to know about you. But we’ve got all night. Tomorrow. The rest of our lives. I have something for you.
He goes to the chest an takes out a red dress. He hands it to me.
Another dress, I says. I take it with reluctant hands. You got a sister or somethin?
Or something. He smiles. Get changed and we’ll eat. He goes out an shuts the door.
There’s a lookin glass on the wall. I’m starin straight into it. He’s right, my colour’s high. The heartstone burns, but I ain’t got time to think about what that means. Not now. I jest gotta git outta here as fast as I can. Without no trouble, without raisin no alarm. How long since I left Tommo? A few minutes, no more.
The red hot’s runnin high in me. But I cain’t use it to fight, not in the normal way. This ain’t the Cage. DeMalo’s stronger’n me in body an mind. That means I gotta turn it. Try to use the red hot in my head, not my gut. I know what he does to me, I know the danger. I cain’t let him drown me like before. Disappear me.
I pull on the red dress an lace it up. I check myself in the glass, turnin this way an that. The dress dips low at the neck, nips tight at the waist, like somethin Molly might wear. I hardly recognize myself. I look womanly. That must be what he wants.
If you know yer enemy’s weak point, go fer it hard. I gotta be outta here in five minutes. Time starts now. I tuck Slim’s tiny brown bottle safely aginst my breast. My stummick’s fluttery with nerves. I take a deep breath. I open the door.
He’s pourin wine at the table. He looks up. You’re beautiful, he says. He holds a cup of wine out to me. I go over an take it.
A toast, he says. To a new world.
To you an me, I says.
We drink. His eyes look heavy. Bruised. Exhausted. Somehow I gotta distract his attention so’s I can doctor his wine.
The food’s ready, he says. Shall we eat?
You look tired, I says. I take his cup from him an put it on the table with mine. Sit, I says. He does.
I slide onto his lap, facin him, an put my arms around his neck. Shut my body to the burn of the heartstone, the heat of his arms about my waist.
I’m sorry I ran away this mornin, I says. The truth is . . . nobody’s ever made me feel like you do. It was all too much. I had to be by myself, to think. About what you said. About who I am an what I can be an . . . I realized yer right. The way things are now, it won’t do. We need to find a new way. A meaninful future, that’s what you said.
He smiles.
There ain’t no point to this life, I says, to all that we go through, if we don’t at least try to make things better. I wanna make the world a better place. With you.
I knew we were meant to be together, he says. That first time I saw you.
I whisper in his ear, I cain’t stop thinkin about bein with you.
I slide offa his lap, take his hand an lead him to the bedroom. Jest like that, he comes with me. I cain’t believe how easy it is. The power of a red dress.
We sit beside each other on the bed. I stroke his hair back from his face. Yer eyes look heavy, I says.
I . . . get these headaches sometimes, he says. I can’t do anything about them.
I can, I says. Lie down, I’ll be right back.
I slip outta the room, hurry to the table an fill the two cups with wine. One of ’em’s got a little dent in one side. I reach into my dress an pull out the brown bottle. My hands is steady, ice cold as I unstop it. I can hear Slim’s voice in my head.
One drop, a man’ll sleep eight hours. Two drops, he’ll do a whole day, maybe half of the next.
An three?
The longest sleep of all. Use it with a cool head.
I check over my shoulder. I can hear DeMalo movin in the bedroom. I hold my breath as I drip the liquid into the dented cup. One drop. Two. I hesitate.
His bruised, weary eyes.
I shove the stopper back in the bottle an tuck it into my dress. I swirl the tainted wine. Take both of the cups an head back to DeMalo.
He’s lyin on the bed, rubbin his head with one hand. He’s barefoot, no shirt, jest his britches. With the door key in his pocket. I sit beside him. Hand him the dented cup. We drink. I suddenly realize I ain’t got no idea how long it takes to kick in. Slim didn’t say an now I curse myself fer not askin.
Lie down with me, he says. Take off your boots.
I don’t wanna. But I cain’t think of a good enough reason not to, so I do. He pulls me down beside him an holds me in his arms. The candlelight plays shadows over his face. Gleams on the smooth skin of his chest. He smells like a mountain forest on a cold, dark night.
That’s better, he says.
What does this mean? I says. I touch the tattoo over his heart, a red, risin sun.
Every Tonton gets one, he says. Once they’ve proved their dedication to the good of the earth. To New Eden. To me.
How? By killin? I says.
Cleaning the infected wound, he says. You’ve done the same. At Hopetown. Freedom Fields.
Then I’ll hafta git one too, I says.
He touches my bare skin, jest above my heart. It shivers at his touch. No, he says. You’re perfect as you are.
He tugs on the end of the string that laces the front of my dress. It starts to slip free. The bottle, he mustn’t find it. I grab his wrist. Harder than I mean to. He frowns.
What’re these? I says. I touch the thin silver band that he wears around his left wrist. I noticed it earlier in his tent. It’s got strange marks etched into it.
Nothing, he says. He frees hisself, leanin closer to kiss me. I stiffen.
What’s the matter? he says. His hand brushes aginst the heartstone. He pulls away quick. It’s hot, he says, surprised.
It’s a heartstone, I says. The closer you get to your heart’s desire, the hotter it burns.
Am I your heart’s desire? he says.
That’s what the stone says. I start tracin his face with one finger. Lightly. Slowly. His forehead, his eyebrows. His cheekbones, his nose, his lips. I’m sorry, I says. I hafta git used to . . . bein with you like this.
I wanted to tell you, he says. I’ve found something amazing. If it’s what I think it is, it’s going to change everything. It’s going to make it possible for us to—
Shhh, I says.
His eyelids start to droop. So heavy, he murmurs. Feels like I’m being . . . pulled under. Feels like . . . Ahhh, he breathes. The wine. You put something in it. Are you killing me, Saba?
You came, says DeMalo. Just like I said. Of your own free will.
So. He don’t know how I got here. Not yet anyways.
There’s somebody still in that room, I says.
I don’t think so, he says. He comes an pushes the door open. Shows me. It’s a bedroom. Whitewashed walls, a plain bed with a plain white cover. A small chest. Candles on the walls. No, he says. No one but us.
No Jack. Nowhere fer him to be hidin. He ain’t here. But still the heartstone burns.
We’re alone, I says.
Yes, he says.
But there was somebody else here, I says. Before I come in.
Just me and the servant, he says. And then the two guards, but you came in with them. Are you all right? You’re flushed.
I’m fine, I says, fine.
He touches my face. We have so much to talk about, he says. There’s so much I want to tell you, so much I want to know about you. But we’ve got all night. Tomorrow. The rest of our lives. I have something for you.
He goes to the chest an takes out a red dress. He hands it to me.
Another dress, I says. I take it with reluctant hands. You got a sister or somethin?
Or something. He smiles. Get changed and we’ll eat. He goes out an shuts the door.
There’s a lookin glass on the wall. I’m starin straight into it. He’s right, my colour’s high. The heartstone burns, but I ain’t got time to think about what that means. Not now. I jest gotta git outta here as fast as I can. Without no trouble, without raisin no alarm. How long since I left Tommo? A few minutes, no more.
The red hot’s runnin high in me. But I cain’t use it to fight, not in the normal way. This ain’t the Cage. DeMalo’s stronger’n me in body an mind. That means I gotta turn it. Try to use the red hot in my head, not my gut. I know what he does to me, I know the danger. I cain’t let him drown me like before. Disappear me.
I pull on the red dress an lace it up. I check myself in the glass, turnin this way an that. The dress dips low at the neck, nips tight at the waist, like somethin Molly might wear. I hardly recognize myself. I look womanly. That must be what he wants.
If you know yer enemy’s weak point, go fer it hard. I gotta be outta here in five minutes. Time starts now. I tuck Slim’s tiny brown bottle safely aginst my breast. My stummick’s fluttery with nerves. I take a deep breath. I open the door.
He’s pourin wine at the table. He looks up. You’re beautiful, he says. He holds a cup of wine out to me. I go over an take it.
A toast, he says. To a new world.
To you an me, I says.
We drink. His eyes look heavy. Bruised. Exhausted. Somehow I gotta distract his attention so’s I can doctor his wine.
The food’s ready, he says. Shall we eat?
You look tired, I says. I take his cup from him an put it on the table with mine. Sit, I says. He does.
I slide onto his lap, facin him, an put my arms around his neck. Shut my body to the burn of the heartstone, the heat of his arms about my waist.
I’m sorry I ran away this mornin, I says. The truth is . . . nobody’s ever made me feel like you do. It was all too much. I had to be by myself, to think. About what you said. About who I am an what I can be an . . . I realized yer right. The way things are now, it won’t do. We need to find a new way. A meaninful future, that’s what you said.
He smiles.
There ain’t no point to this life, I says, to all that we go through, if we don’t at least try to make things better. I wanna make the world a better place. With you.
I knew we were meant to be together, he says. That first time I saw you.
I whisper in his ear, I cain’t stop thinkin about bein with you.
I slide offa his lap, take his hand an lead him to the bedroom. Jest like that, he comes with me. I cain’t believe how easy it is. The power of a red dress.
We sit beside each other on the bed. I stroke his hair back from his face. Yer eyes look heavy, I says.
I . . . get these headaches sometimes, he says. I can’t do anything about them.
I can, I says. Lie down, I’ll be right back.
I slip outta the room, hurry to the table an fill the two cups with wine. One of ’em’s got a little dent in one side. I reach into my dress an pull out the brown bottle. My hands is steady, ice cold as I unstop it. I can hear Slim’s voice in my head.
One drop, a man’ll sleep eight hours. Two drops, he’ll do a whole day, maybe half of the next.
An three?
The longest sleep of all. Use it with a cool head.
I check over my shoulder. I can hear DeMalo movin in the bedroom. I hold my breath as I drip the liquid into the dented cup. One drop. Two. I hesitate.
His bruised, weary eyes.
I shove the stopper back in the bottle an tuck it into my dress. I swirl the tainted wine. Take both of the cups an head back to DeMalo.
He’s lyin on the bed, rubbin his head with one hand. He’s barefoot, no shirt, jest his britches. With the door key in his pocket. I sit beside him. Hand him the dented cup. We drink. I suddenly realize I ain’t got no idea how long it takes to kick in. Slim didn’t say an now I curse myself fer not askin.
Lie down with me, he says. Take off your boots.
I don’t wanna. But I cain’t think of a good enough reason not to, so I do. He pulls me down beside him an holds me in his arms. The candlelight plays shadows over his face. Gleams on the smooth skin of his chest. He smells like a mountain forest on a cold, dark night.
That’s better, he says.
What does this mean? I says. I touch the tattoo over his heart, a red, risin sun.
Every Tonton gets one, he says. Once they’ve proved their dedication to the good of the earth. To New Eden. To me.
How? By killin? I says.
Cleaning the infected wound, he says. You’ve done the same. At Hopetown. Freedom Fields.
Then I’ll hafta git one too, I says.
He touches my bare skin, jest above my heart. It shivers at his touch. No, he says. You’re perfect as you are.
He tugs on the end of the string that laces the front of my dress. It starts to slip free. The bottle, he mustn’t find it. I grab his wrist. Harder than I mean to. He frowns.
What’re these? I says. I touch the thin silver band that he wears around his left wrist. I noticed it earlier in his tent. It’s got strange marks etched into it.
Nothing, he says. He frees hisself, leanin closer to kiss me. I stiffen.
What’s the matter? he says. His hand brushes aginst the heartstone. He pulls away quick. It’s hot, he says, surprised.
It’s a heartstone, I says. The closer you get to your heart’s desire, the hotter it burns.
Am I your heart’s desire? he says.
That’s what the stone says. I start tracin his face with one finger. Lightly. Slowly. His forehead, his eyebrows. His cheekbones, his nose, his lips. I’m sorry, I says. I hafta git used to . . . bein with you like this.
I wanted to tell you, he says. I’ve found something amazing. If it’s what I think it is, it’s going to change everything. It’s going to make it possible for us to—
Shhh, I says.
His eyelids start to droop. So heavy, he murmurs. Feels like I’m being . . . pulled under. Feels like . . . Ahhh, he breathes. The wine. You put something in it. Are you killing me, Saba?
