Tell the Wind and Fire(24)

“We’ve got so much to celebrate,” Carwyn put in blandly. “Such as our love. Our beautiful, beautiful love.”

The guy reached into his jacket and pulled out a little pouch, which was also leather. He was clearly working a theme.

He put the pouch down on the top of the little table he was sitting at, the tabletop a small circle of metal that shone with a few different metallic shades of color in the dim light. He drew open the zipper of the purse, and the chaotic roar of the club seemed to fade and fall away as the dust came creeping out through the zip and into the air.

Like grains of black sand that could float, the dust rose and spiraled over us. It spread out so far that it appeared pale gray, so anyone watching us would hardly have seen it. It would have seemed to them like an optical illusion, the palest of shadows, like that which comes from a cloud passing over a landscape.

Dust was created by Dark magic. I did not know how. But the word was that dust was particles of darkness made tangible. Shards of the dark ground down to dust.

Dust brought peace with it, like the feeling of dreamless sleep. I was almost tempted.

“Come on, guys, let’s not,” I said instead. “This isn’t like you, Ethan,” I added pointedly.

It wasn’t much like Nadiya, either. I wondered what was going on with her, but I couldn’t ask with a doppelganger attached to my wrist. She let herself be pulled away with little protest, and Carwyn had no choice about the matter. I looked around at the people dancing, the swaying and shimmying in the moving lights, and then at Nadiya and Carwyn, and found myself laughing again.

“Let’s just dance,” I said, and grabbed Nadiya’s hand with my free one so I could tow them both back into the midst of the dancers.

The music hummed and thrummed as we danced. Light sparkled all around us, in my eyes, glancing off my rings and sending beams out on all sides. Shadows wrapped me, sliding around my body and through my hair like black ribbons. Time seemed a little broken up, like the light, coming in flashes between the shadows. Nadiya shimmied down and then up again, purple sparks lighting her dark eyes. An older man with rings like mine on his fingers was tracing bright paths down a woman’s back that flared briefly and then were absorbed into her skin. A boy in a neon brocade vest with nothing underneath was dancing in a shimmering line of Light.

The strong line of Carwyn’s arm was pressed up against the inside of mine, and I could feel his pulse, beating like another kind of music. I had him where I wanted him: I didn’t have to watch him.

But I did look at him, curious to see if the doppelganger was enjoying himself, to see if I’d guessed right and this was something he would like. Doppelgangers do not work the same way real human beings do, everybody says. They do not have souls of their own, because there is nothing of light about them. Could doppelgangers even like things the way we did?

I could not tell. Carwyn’s mouth was in a shape that was not quite a flat line or a smirk. When I glanced toward him, he responded by using the bracelet of light to turn me toward him as well, into the pull of his gravity, so we turned around each other in a slow circle.

He leaned down and whispered in my ear, “How well does this girl know Ethan?”

“Not well,” I whispered back.

He murmured, “Are you sure about that?”

“Of course I’m sure,” I said more loudly.

He didn’t argue with me. He leaned away, shrugged, and kept dancing. The light did not illuminate him as it did Nadiya; his eyes remained dark and watchful, but the arm against mine was less tense than it had been all night. I could not exactly read his expression, but I did think he was having a good time. I smiled up at him as the shadows bled away into light and the light ebbed back again.

He put his free hand, fingers curled, on my waist. Still circling, I looked up at him for a cue to the next dance move. Light painted a shining pattern, bright and brief as a firework, silently against the line of his cheek and jaw. The music went throbbing on, and the light died another little death.

In that moment of darkness, Carwyn leaned forward and captured my mouth with his. It was a sudden, warm attempt at possession: his fingers light but sure, tilting up my chin. I had nowhere else to go but into the deep, intent kiss. I shut my eyes, and there were brush strokes of light, even on the inside of my eyelids. The world grew brighter and brighter, until I opened my eyes to find light shining crystal clear all around us, and his warm mouth still on mine.

It lasted only an instant longer, then Carwyn leaned away and said, his voice low, “When I first—”

“Hey,” I said to Nadiya, dropping her a slightly embarrassed smile, “could you excuse us? Just . . . just for a minute.”

She gave me an understanding thumbs-up and let the crowd sway her away. I used the link to drag Carwyn where I wanted him, into the next room, and then I got a better hold on him, grabbed his shirt, and used the purchase I had to throw him up against the wall.

“Very funny,” I said. “You knew I couldn’t protest in front of my friend, because she thinks you’re Ethan, she thinks that’s something I’d want instead of”—a betrayal—“nothing I’d ever want. Not with you. Why did you do it?”

My heart was pounding louder than the music, violently in my ears.

“Oh well,” Carwyn answered, breathless with spite. “Because it was funny. And because I could.”