I became aware that Luke was looking at me. “You saw them?”
“There were twenty of them. Of course I saw them!”
Luke muttered something and made a U-turn to head back to the house. His fingers clutched the steering wheel. I didn’t know what had disturbed him, but I knew I didn’t like to see him upset. I’d only known him a few days and already I relied on him to be even and understated; this barely hidden anxiety bothered me more than it should have.
I summoned up my nerve and reached over to his hands on the wheel. He let me pull one of them off and I just held it, our hands sitting on the console between us. We rode like that for the few minutes home—my heart pounding, he removing his hand only to shift gears, and then lacing his fingers again with mine.
We got to my parents’ driveway too soon. Luke parked on the street and dragged his thumb over the back of my hand. Thoughtfully, he watched a silhouette move past the kitchen window. Whoever it was didn’t notice us, lost in dinner preparations maybe.
“Your mom can do just about anything she tries too, can’t she?”
It was a weird question. Of all the things I thought he might say, I didn’t think that was one of them. “I guess so. She never thinks she’s good at what she does, but she is.”
“So maybe that’s all there is to it. Genetics. That’s it. You’re just from a family of insanely talented people.”
I pulled my hand away. “Well, that’s vaguely insulting.”
Luke’s eyes were trained on the kitchen window. “No, it’s promising.”
Screw the unspoken agreement. “Are you ever going to tell me anything? At all?”
His eyes darted past me to the car windows, and then to the rearview mirror. He reached over and touched my chin; the lightest of touches could drag away my protests. “Shh, pretty girl.” I closed my eyes, letting him draw his finger toward my collarbone.
Mom. The idea that she could look out the kitchen window at any minute instantly forced my eyes open. “Don’t think you can seduce me into blind trust.”
“Damn,” Luke said. “Are you sure? How about shopping? Will you come into the city with me tomorrow?”
“I’m not much of a shopper. You were better off with the seducing.”
His pale eyes glanced out the windows again and he leaned in very close, whispering. “The city’s more private. Better place to—talk.” He leaned back and said more loudly, “You know, to get to know each other.”
Okay, now wild horses couldn’t keep me away. “You’re on. When?”
“Pick you up at four?”
I nodded. Luke glanced out the window again, this time at the sky. “We’d better get you in before it rains.”
Reluctantly, I climbed out of the car with my backpack and joined him at the end of the driveway. A single cold drop of rain burst on my arm, raising an army of goose bumps around it. Thunder rumbled distantly over the trees.
“It’ll be quite a storm.” Luke squinted up at the clouds.
I watched another drop hit a leaf on the lawn, momentarily bearing it to the ground. It struck me that there was something not quite right about the way the lawn looked. Maybe it was the half-light of the clouds, but it just seemed darker, more vibrant, greener than I remembered it being this morning. Then I realized what was different.
“Luke,” I said flatly, hands dropping to my sides.
He stood beside me and looked at the solid carpet of clover that covered the lawn—every one I could see bearing four leaves. For a long moment, we stood in silence … an occasional raindrop penetrating to the scalp or slipping into a collar.
Then Luke said loudly, to no one in particular, “You’re wasting your time. She doesn’t need them anymore.” He took my hand tightly and led me toward the house. “Please use your wits until tomorrow. There’s a storm coming.”
He turned and jogged lightly down the driveway, pausing beside his car. I ducked around the side of the back porch, pretending to go in, and then crept back around, crouching behind an azalea bush.
Luke’s voice was faint but unmistakable, with an unusual timbre to it that I couldn’t place. “She saw the hounds. She’s learning—she’ll see the rest of you soon enough. You don’t have to waste your time with these silly parlor tricks. She doesn’t need them.”
He paused, as if someone else was speaking, though I heard nothing but the drip of raindrops and the slow roar of thunder. Luke, again: “I don’t need an escort. Do you think I haven’t done this before?”
I bit my lip.
“I’m just not sure she’s anything that interests you.” Pause. “Damn it, I’ll get it done. Leave me the hell alone, would you? Just leave me alone.” The car door slammed and I heard the engine thrum to life.
I went inside the house, suddenly cold.
I dreamt. It was the dark blue of night and I could see Luke walking slowly away from me. He was on the high school grounds, and he stared at the bench where we had practiced. He walked to the edge of the soccer field and I realized it was raining: cold stinging drops in the hot summer night.
He pulled his shirt off—crazy in this weather—and spread his arms out on either side of him like a crucifix, his fingers grasping at the rain. Staring at the sky, the drops biting into his skin with cold fury, his mouth moved as he turned slowly. I couldn’t hear him, though, over the rain and the sudden barrage of thunder that shook the ground itself. It seemed like some secret ritual that no one else ever saw: some hidden spell or incantation or some dreadful magic.
Thunder growled again as he dropped to his knees in the sharp gravel, his arms still spread and his head thrown back to the sky.
I was close enough to hear words: “One thousand, three hundred, forty-eight years, two months, and one—”
Thunder cracked like a tree smashing to the ground, and my eyes flew open.
Rain was pelting on the roof and rapping against the window as thunder growled outside. Awake, but not separated from the dream, I was confused as to what was real and what was still the dream. Was the rain real? Did I still sleep?