Chapter Seventeen Emma Baldwin #2
“I love that.” My pulse quickens, and I feel another surge of warmth in my chest. Instinctively, I slide my hand across the table, wanting to hold his.
Seeing what Malcolm does for the community makes him so much more attractive to me.
And his eyes are so … so kind. The hazel is full of browns, greens, and gold—like the sun and autumn leaves.
The way they sparkled when he spoke about helping people made me want to see the world through those eyes.
And his smile. That beautiful dangerous smile makes my pulse react.
A girl could fall in love with a guy like Malcolm Davenport. Sure hope I’m not that girl.
I snatch my hand back and fiddle with a napkin as he holds up his menu.
On the cover, a vivid display of fireworks erupts in a dazzling funnel of bright blues, pinks, and golds, shooting into the sky like a live-action movie.
“I have to tell you something,” he says. “That psychic that we saw at the fair—”
“You used to date her?” I ask, uncomfortable with the hint of jealousy in my voice. “Is that why you were whispering with her?”
His face contorts with disgust. “Aww hell, naw.” He laughs, covering his perfect mouth with a fist. “She’s my little sister. I was mad at her for being there.”
My cheeks get warm, but my shoulders relax. “Was she spying on us?”
“Sorta,” he whispers conspiratorially. “She really does see the future. So she’s always in my business.
Both my sisters love to meddle and try to parent me.
It’s irritating as hell, but I try not to get too mad about it because I know it’s done out of love.
But Imani’s cool. She won’t snitch to the rest of the family.
And she really is trying to help. I kinda feel like we might need her now.
So that’s why I wanted you to meet me here. ”
“Okay, I’ll take all the help we can get,” I reply, looking around for her.
Malcolm waves at a server, and she glides toward our booth on roller skates adorned with rhinestones and blue sparkling lights.
Her pink poodle skirt sways, and a navy scarf knotted at her neck flutters behind her.
She stops at our table, toying with her long silky pink and blue ponytail.
Wait. I remember now. Dark lipstick, black fingernails, ponytail matching her outfit. She must be …
“This is my sister Imani,” Malcolm says.
“Hello, Emma,” Imani says.
“Hi, psychic,” I reply.
Imani chuckles nervously. “Thanks for being a good sport about everything, car thief.”
I laugh, understanding her. If Demetri was sneaking off to meet some girl from their family, I would want to be there in case I had to rip her hair out for attacking him. And if Imani is seeing scary psychic visions about us, I guess she wants to look after Malcolm.
“Do you work here?” I ask.
“No,” Imani replies. “I just help out sometimes. What can I start you off with?”
I look at the menu, but the prices are missing. “How do I know what everything costs?” I ask.
Imani gives me a warm smile. “You pay what you can afford. And if you can’t afford it, your meal is on the house.”
“Wow.” I grin. “I’m not really hungry, though.”
Malcolm digs into his pocket. He pulls out three crisp twenty-dollar bills, sliding them onto the table. “Give us two teas and a small taste of what’s to come.”
“That’ll be right out.” She winks at me and whispers, “I’d never date anybody with a rock head.”
I slump as embarrassment weighs down on my shoulders.
Laughing, Imani pivots on her skates and rolls to the kitchen, leaving us in a room filled with the voices of other diners and the clinking of forks against plates.
I lean back against the shiny blue vinyl and I tell Malcolm what I’ve learned about Sabine and her mysterious ravens. Malcolm listens intently, his beautiful hazel eyes studying me. When I’m done, he tells me about his talk with Billy.
“Malcolm,” I ask hesitantly, “do you think Billy’s right? Do you think we won’t be able to escape the Tether?”
“Beats me,” he replies. He leans in closer, and our hands touch on the table. I look at his full perfect lips. A volt of electricity shoots through my body. I lick my lips to distract me from the tingles I get from the feel of his fingers.
He speaks with a passion that ignites my heart. “But I know we’ve worked too damn hard to stop trying,” he insists. “We can’t give up now. Fear and frustration can’t stop us. Right?”
Smiling, I nod. This place was a wonderful surprise. Like his friendship has become.
Imani sets down two steaming mugs, their pink tiles reflecting the warmth and love she puts into her tea. It feels good to know we have an ally in this. I wrap my fingers around my mug, seeking its steamy comfort.
“We have to figure out how to end the Tether,” I say. “I want to escape this curse and the circus.” And my family. Looking into his flawless hazel eyes, I add, “I wanna run away from everything so I can find me. Figure out where I belong.” Malcolm’s hand covers mine.
“Maybe you belong with me,” he blurts. He drops his eyes like he’s scared he shouldn’t have said that or worried hearing those words this soon will make me uncomfortable. But all the letters we’ve exchanged have made me feel closer to him. So I smile to assure him that it’s okay.
He grins. “Emma Baldwin, you are a star with or without the big top,” he declares, his voice swollen with belief in me. “Don’t let our circumstances dim your light. No matter what, you’ll get through this. It’ll be all right,” he says, but his eyes look doubtful.
“Pretty liar,” I tease, our hands still intertwined. “I appreciate the way we’re trying to end the Tether together … being here for each other. I know it would be easier to hate me. So thank you.”
“That would be impossible. Close your eyes,” Malcolm whispers. “And think of the future as you take a sip of this tea.”
Lashes closed, I savor the steamy sweetness of the tea.
I imagine a future where Malcolm and I are free.
We kiss and dance in the rain, far away from the circus and the curse and everyone that irritates us.
In the bubble of my imagination, it’s just us, and our love shines brighter than any spotlight.
But as I part my lashes and gaze into the dark circle of my cup, there’s a different future—one where Malcolm’s eyes are filled with static and I’m stabbing him in the shoulder with a shard of mirror glass. I shudder.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
Sputtering my fear and guilt, I gasp. “W-w-was that the future? Really?”
“Yeah,” he says. “It’s a peek of what might be. What did you see?”
Afraid of his reaction to the truth, I lie. “I saw us. We beat this thing. What did you see?”
Malcolm looks sad and distrustful. Did he see what I saw? My outfit feels too tight—the high-waisted skirt and fitted blouse choking me uncomfortably again. Instead of dancing in the rain, we dance around the facts.
After a pause, he whispers, “I saw danger ahead. We need to be careful. The future is gonna be hard.”
I nod. For a second, my vision blurs red. I can almost see the blood dripping from the wounds I’d inflict on him if I ever gave in to my darkest urges. I can never let it come to that.
Afraid of my own darkness, I fiddle with the miniature silver clock on the necklace Grace gave me.
What was wrong with Malcolm’s eyes in that vision—did the curse cause it? Did the Tether have something to do with it? And why would I stab a boy so beautiful? Did our plan fail? Were we in the Tether?
“We can’t let fear decide how we move,” Malcolm says. “We gotta be ready for whatever happens and confront problems together if we want this plan to work.”
“Agreed,” I reply, but my hand is shaking.
His hand cradles mine on the table again.
And I try to forget the image in the tea.
We have the power to change that future.
I feel pain radiating through my chest at the thought of harming Malcolm.
He’s so warm, and he does so much for others.
It would be a crime to rob the world of a boy like that.
My tea is broken; that vision was flawed. “We’ll stick together,” I promise.
A casual brush of Malcolm’s hand while he’s reaching for a napkin sparks a bomb inside me, igniting a battle that makes my hands tingle with magic, desire, and the desire to break his fingers.
A toxic brew of emotions is slowly ripping me apart inside.
The way he looks at me with those hazel eyes fills me with a warmth that makes me feel cherished and damned.
Shit. Maybe my defense against the curse could slip.
I could kill Malcolm. Even the thought is terrifying, the curse’s power is unpredictable and relentless.
I feel its dark tendrils tightening around my soul.
I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing myself to breathe slowly, deeply, until the dangerous urge fades to a whisper.
I must stay in control, not just for me, but for us.
I have to keep myself together so I can work with Malcolm to free our families.
With closed eyes, I reach for my tea, silently pleading, Pleeease show me a better future.
I look at my pink-tiled mug again, steam swirling inside it like grasping spirits.
Inside, I see blood splattered on a checkered floor and blood oozing from Sabine’s laughing lips.
My heart sinks. That witch is still a part of my future.
I continue to toy with Grace’s necklace.
If only I had the power to wish her alive again.
But my magic isn’t strong enough. If I could see her one more time—not an illusion or a trick, but my real sister.
So I could hold her, talk to her, ask her about the Tether, the way Malcolm did with Billy.
And just maybe there was something she knew that wasn’t in her diary, something that could help us.
And I could help her. I could save her, and she could save me.
Malcolm’s smile looks pained as he leans back, putting space between us.
I can’t shake off the uneasy feeling that he’s hiding something from me.
Maybe the bloodlust bothers him too. But with my deadly urges and my secrets, I’m in no position to judge.
“I gotta see Grace,” I blurt. “Come with me. Maybe she knows something that can help us.”
Malcolm pauses, shifting uncomfortably. “You sure you’re ready?”
I nod. “Memories from the week she died are a fuzzy haze. I need new ones. And I need to warn Grace.”
“A haze?” He studies me. “Does it hurt to try to remember it?”
How does he know? My brows shoot up as I nod. “I get massive headaches.”
His eyes look worried. “Any other symptoms?”
“Sometimes I get queasy when I try to remember. I had a real bad fall, so I guess the injury still bugs me.”
“Are you sure? It sounds like a memory wipe.”
My blood runs cold. “Is that even possible?” My breath is shaky. “It couldn’t have happened to me. The only people I was with after Grace died were…” My family. Could they have? Did they? No … That’s too awful to say, let alone believe.
But what if he’s right? I need to go to the past and find out more. “Come with me, Malcolm. Please.”
“Okay.” His smile is a promise and a warning at once. We lace our fingers. Together, we exit the soda shop, both hoping to stop the death and doom the future holds with this new journey through time.