Breathe for Me Page 9

  It’s hard concentrating on what he’s saying because I’m glowing on the inside. People are accepting me, quirks and all. Even if I’m always stuck with the touching curse, I can make a go of it here. I love this city. I want the chance to stay.

  It has to happen.

  chapter nine

  I CAN’T SLEEP.

  The heat is oppressive beyond usual on Wednesday night, and I lie in bed well past midnight, willing myself to doze in spite of the temperature. My air conditioner feels like it’s not working hard enough, and even though I’m resting on top of my bed in only a tank top and my underwear, my body won’t stop sweating. The only real downside to New Orleans—hot, sticky summer nights.

  I slip into a pair of thin knit shorts and pad across the floor to the patio doors, sliding them open. A soft breeze slips inside—it’s still a little too warm for my tastes, but at least the air is moving, which is an improvement over the apartment right now. No one else is stirring around me at the moment; most windows are dark, and I can hear air conditioning units whirring, combating the heat.

  I step out, then sit on the chair and gaze into the coal-black sky peppered with fiery white stars. The moon looks so far away right now.

  Whenever Jane and I got a chance on warm nights during the summer, we used to wait until our parents fell asleep to sneak out of our room, walking on the very tips of our toes, creaking the thick wooden front door open so slowly that it took forever to create a gap wide enough for us to slip through.

  Then we’d run for the nearby field, where we’d collapse on the soft, plush grass and stare up at the sky for what felt like hours.

  Most times we’d whisper about whatever came to mind. Worries we had about our parents. The changes our bodies were going through. Crushes on handsome boys we saw during public gatherings and festivals. Places we wanted to visit when we were finally adults and free of the shackles of childhood.

  But sometimes, sometimes we’d simply stay silent, holding hands, letting the expansive firmament and bright globe of a moon speak for us.

  My throat closes up again as I stare at the sky. Remembering her makes my chest ache sometimes, but it’s how I keep her alive. There’s just some part of my brain that can’t accept she’s been dead and gone for several hundreds of years. And it always makes me wonder—what happened to my family after Sitri took me away? Did Jane get married, have babies of her own? Did she ever get to leave our small town?

  I’ll never have answers, I know. But sometimes I like to make them up in my head, giving her a full and amazing life that lasted well into late adulthood. That maybe she used my absence as an excuse to break away from our parents, find her own adventures, do all those things we whispered about on that hill in the dark.

  Maybe Jane took a trip to the ocean, which she always wanted to see, and dipped her toes in the salty cold water. She would shiver in glee, gaining courage and digging her feet into the gritty sand, letting the waves lap at her ankles. After that, she toured Egypt and ran her fingers along the golden bricks of the pyramids. And maybe once Jane got her fill of all the explorations she could handle, she found a man who was worthy of her love. A true equal, not a persecutor like Mr. Baker, who would have treated me as little more than a slave.

  A pang of guilt flares up again, and I shift in my seat and fold my legs up, wrapping my arms just below my knees. If I’d stayed, I’d know what happened to Jane instead of having to make up stories. I wouldn’t have to guess or worry.

  And yet, there’s a deep-down part of me that knows what happened to her, regardless of what I try to pretend. Something in my gut tells me Mr. Baker wouldn’t let our family go so quickly, not when our parents had promised to provide him a wife. It’s probable he thought Jane would serve as a suitable substitute in my absence.

  The thought that she had to have sex with him, make more of his babies, work her fingers to the bone day in and out to keep his house, the light in her eyes dimming as the years wore on…

  I choke back a small cry and drop my forehead onto my knees. “I’m sorry, Jane,” I whisper. Sorry I left you behind to God only knows what fate. You deserved so much better than that.

  After a few minutes, I sniffle and swipe a hand across my face. My remorse can’t change the past. Jane, I’ll make you proud of me, I think to myself as I unfold my body and head back into the apartment, leaving the balcony doors open. If Dominic decides to believe what I told him, I’ll work hard to not shut myself off from people anymore. Jane would tell me to trust in others. I’ll try to trust in him.

  I stretch out on the couch and, with the warm breezes swirling about the room, finally fall asleep.

  “You’re here,” I say with more than a little surprise to Dominic on Thursday night, nudging the door open a little wider to let him into my apartment. My stomach flutters uncontrollably, excitedly, and I press my palm to my lower belly, trying to steady my nerves. “I didn’t figure you’d want to keep our appointment. You know, given the circumstances.”

  We’re supposed to meet with Aggie in a half hour for our tarot card readings, but I was just going to call her and cancel. Dominic didn’t say much to me during school yesterday or today, and in English class we passed each other a number of multi-layered glances. I know my eyes said what my mouth couldn’t—that I feel bad for dumping my burden upon his shoulders. So I was trying to give him space to think things through and not push myself on him, despite my desire to do just that.

  Frankly, I thought he’d forgotten about our appointment. Apparently he hadn’t.

  “I’m curious to hear what Aggie has to say,” he says with a small smile, sweeping by me into my living room.

  I close the door then turn to face him. Studying his eyes—what truths can I find there? Are things going to be awkward between us? “Are you sure you want to do this?” Simple words, but the meaning is layered, not just about the tarot card reading. He knows now what he’s getting into with me.

  Dominic closes the space between us and slips his hands into my gloved ones. “I want to know the truth. I can’t learn it unless I spend time with you.” His gaze burns into mine, and a heated flush crawls over my face.

  I nod, trying to not let relief overtake my senses. “We should get going, then.”

  Neither of us moves. He’s so close I can see the flecks of dark brown in his blue irises. The light dusting of freckles on the tops of his cheeks. The soft curve of his cupid’s bow.

  The ache to kiss him slams through me, a tightly coiled need to touch him. In this moment, I’d give everything I own to be able to taste his lips. To feel that warm, soft skin against mine. The press of his body against mine.

  I pull away from the temptation, put up my emotional guard and reopen the door. “Well, we should hurry. Don’t want to be late.”

  Quietly, Dominic follows me downstairs and out onto the street. The dull late-afternoon heat presses against me, slicks my skin beneath my clothes. Ever the gentleman, he opens the passenger door for me. I slip in.

  He gets into the driver’s side, and we take off for the French Quarter. The first half of the ride is silent, slightly awkward. I’m afraid to speak, knowing every time I do, every time I let myself get close to him, I end up making things worse. Pushing him away.

  He doesn’t deserve this.

  I sneak glances at his profile, then clear my throat, knowing I need to say something. My distance is unfair to him.

  “What’s on your mind?” Dominic asks.

  “Just nervous.”

  He reaches over and brushes his strong fingers across the top of my hand. “Don’t be. I’m sure Aggie will only tell you good things. You deserve it.”

  Impulsively, I squeeze his hand, absorbing his strength. I can’t get him off my mind. Can’t stop wanting him, wanting to touch him, needing him near me. This delicious ache makes my skin tingle in anticipation of seeing even a glimpse of him in the halls. Waiting for him to connect his eyes with mine in class.

  Breathing the same ai
r as him in his car.

  I’m utterly lost in Dominic, stumbling over the edge. I have to bite back the endearments that want to spill from my lips. My walls are crumbling.

  “So, you’ve never driven before?” he asks. “How is that possible?”

  Thankful for the shift in conversation, I give myself a moment to level out and say, “I’ve never learned. Or maybe I have, but I don’t remember.” But something in my gut tells me it’s just because I’ve never had time. There’s no memory echo, no déjà vu that strikes me when I look at all the car knobs and gears and such.

  He turns the car onto another street, then shoots me a crooked grin. “I’ve been driving since I turned fifteen. Have to help my mom out with errands, so she lets me have the car for local grocery runs and such. I can’t imagine not driving.”

  His words stir that deep-down longing in me again, the desire to feel normal. I force myself to smile. “Yeah, I’ll have to learn sometime.” If I ever get the chance. I have to get the chance.

  He deftly pulls into a tight parking spot on the street, and we get out of the car, heading down the sidewalk toward Aggie’s shop. A quick glance at my phone confirms we’re right on time.

  Sure enough, as soon as we step through the door, Aggie’s near the front, straightening a bookshelf full of mystical reads. “Child, you came!” she says, surprise practically dripping from her voice. “Wasn’t sure you were going to.” She rakes her gaze over Dominic, who stands steadily beside me and eyes her right back. “And you brought your boyfriend, too. Wonderful.”

  “Oh, he’s not—”

  She cuts off my protest with a wave of her hand. “Technicalities. Anyway, follow me.”

  Dominic and I make our way behind Aggie through the beaded curtain into her reading room. The lamps are covered in thin red scarves, casting a pale, dark pink glow across the walls and our faces. Soft Spanish guitar music from an iPod plays in the background.

  Aggie waves for us to sit down in the two rickety wooden chairs across the table. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

  I nod. “Oolong, if you have any.”

  Dominic gives a small shake of his head. “Nah, I’m not a big tea fan.”

  Aggie pours steaming water into a small white teacup, then drops in a loose tea holder. “So,” she says as she moves the teacup to the side and unwraps a deck of tarot cards from a thick square of dark blue velvet, “you need some answers, Isabel.” She raises an eyebrow at Dominic. “And you… Oh, my boy. You just don’t even know what to think about all this, do ya?”

  “How long have you been reading?” Dominic asks, smoothly sideskirting Aggie’s off-the-cuff comment.

  “Since I was a kid. I’ve always had the sight,” she says, raising her eyebrow slightly but allowing him to change the subject. With steady, firm fingers, she grabs the deck and shuffles the cards. “It took me a while to realize my gift, but once I opened myself to it, the knowledge came to me.” She pauses, both her hands and her speech. “My parents thought I was possessed by the devil. They forbade me from reading. Wasn’t able to fully delve into my abilities until I was an adult.”

  My parents would’ve been the same way as Aggie’s. They were superstitious folk, their careful rituals flooding my memories from the time I was tiny. My mother was always paranoid about the devil, about evil influences permeating every facet of our lives.

  Would she have disowned me, cursed me if she found out about the fateful deal I struck with a demon? Would she have taken me to a priest and possibly helped me find a way out? I’ll never know. I’d like to give her the benefit of the doubt and say she would have stood by my side, but…

  Aggie’s eyes turn to mine. “I want to do a three-card reading on you both. Past, present, future. Simplicity is key. Want me to do them privately or together?”

  Dominic glances at me. I shrug. I don’t think she’ll say anything he can’t hear or doesn’t already know. Plus, there is a burning curiosity within me to find out what she’ll say to him, though I’m hesitant to admit it.

  “We’ll go together,” Dominic says.

  “Fine, fine. Who wants to go first?”

  I bite my lower lip. “I will.” My stomach won’t stop fluttering. What will she see in my cards? Are these real—can they help me with my plan to find the right words to convince Sitri?

  Aggie holds the deck out to me. “Split the cards into two piles.”

  I do as she asks, keeping my hands as steady as possible.

  She thrusts them back into one pile, then has me split them two more times. After getting them shuffled back into one deck, she hands me my teacup. “Relax. Let the tea soothe your soul. It will warm you.”

  Taking a cautious sip to avoid burning my tongue, I nod and watch her flip the top card over. A moon—a gigantic, glowing globe that casts light upon the tops of trees, creates shadows nestled within the greenery.

  I immediately think of Jane and our moonlit talks. Then of Sitri and his moonlit promises.

  “Interesting.” Aggie pours a cup of tea for herself, scattering small clumps of loose dark green tea leaves into the water. Some drop; others float along the surface. “You’ve been deceived by a master of illusions.” She points at the bottom of the card, where The Moon is written in a flowing script. “Major arcana card—this was a big, life-changing event for you.”

  I have to put down my cup due to the sudden shake in my hands. It’s like the curtain to my past has been ripped aside—her eyes are drilling right into mine, and I feel strangely vulnerable yet relieved to hear her words. “Go on,” I force myself to say.

  “Things weren’t what they seemed, were they, sweetheart?” Her face turns soft, regretful, and she brushes her fingers across the tops of mine. “Oh, you poor dear. You had no idea. I sense a lot of fears and anxieties around your past. The moonlight shows something that isn’t there—it casts a light, yes, but not like the sun. The shadows hide many secrets.”

  Dominic shifts beside me but remains silent. His back is a pillar, his quiet strength both welcome and overbearing at once. I feel the heat of his skin pouring off him, and I fight the sudden overwhelming urge to get out of the chair. My past is laid bare before me, before him, on this table.

  A bubble of emotion wells in my upper chest, and I swallow several times, struggling to maintain a semblance of control. I can’t let anything spill out right now.

  “Shh,” Aggie says. “Quiet your mind, child. Let me finish. What’s done is done—this is the past, and the shadows here are merely echoes of what happened to us before. Let’s look at the next card, which defines your present.” Three swords floating in the air. Her face gets even softer toward me, if possible. “You’re so lonely right now, aren’t ya? I can feel the separation coming from the card, from you.”

  Dominic weaves his fingers through mine. My silent hero, the mirror of my pain.

  I grasp onto him like a lifeboat. “I have to be separate.” A slight edge of bitterness ekes through my tone. I hold up my free hand, showing the glove. “I can’t even touch people. How much more isolated can a human being be?”

  “You have friends,” Dominic says. “Samantha cares about you. I care about you.” The sincerity rings through his voice, pulls me out of my funk. He’s right—self-pity isn’t going to help anything. The situation isn’t hopeless. I can still fix it.

  “Don’t let that moon keep you in the cycle of deceit,” Aggie tells me, her all-seeing eyes cutting straight to the truth. “You’re fragile and emotional right now, I know, but things won’t stay that way forever. You may feel deserted, but you’re not. Look at the boy here.” She gestures to Dominic with her head, grinning. “He is a deep well of emotion, a bottomless lake. I don’t have to be psychic to see that.”

  I close my eyes for a moment, absorb his strength. Absorb her words. Finally I look at him and nod. “I know.”

  “Let me flip the last one.” She grabs the top card, flips it over, but the next card in the pack slides down off the pack also. She bl
inks rapidly in surprise, her mouth forming an O. “Very interesting. That doesn’t happen a lot—this card jumped out.” She shoves the two cards beside each other in the row she made with my past and present cards. “Isabel, I see two possible paths for you here. And what happens is up to you.”

  My stomach dips when I look at the leering face of the devil on the card she’d flipped. He dances in dark blacks and reds, holding a thick metal chain in his clawed hands. His sinister grin and the chill in his pale eyes echo Sitri so closely that my skin gets clammy; I have to fight back a shiver. “What does that mean?” I say, indicating that card.

  Dominic stiffens beside me. I know he’s remembering what I told him about Sitri. I glance at his face—his mouth is set in a thin, tense line, a slash across his usually gentle visage. He stares at the image, unblinking.

  “The devil enslaves,” Aggie says, her voice low. “This path shows you being bound, your independence lost. The devil is all about dark pleasures. Desires. Lust. All things material. He’ll limit your options if you let him.”

  Her words cool my skin even more, freeze my bones. She can’t possibly know the truth about me, but here it is, right in our faces.

  I won’t let Sitri keep me bound. Just the possibility of this cycle continuing, as evidenced by this possible path, makes me all the more determined to rid myself of him for good.

  “It can be broken, right?” Dominic asks. He turns to me. “Isabel, how much time do you have left?”

  I grip the chair, digging my gloved fingers into the wooden arm rails. I don’t want to talk about this in front of Aggie—I need a little more time to find the right words.

  Aggie, sensing my anxiety, says, “Let’s turn over the other card.” The image is bold, filled with a picture of a phoenix in fiery reds, oranges and yellows, its tail feathers burning on fire. But the words at the bottom make my blood run cold.

  Death.

  I hear Dominic inhale sharply when he sees the word. His breath echoes my own fears, the sick twist in my gut.