The Book Eaters(53)
Think only of Salem, and seeing her again. Don’t care about this marriage, don’t think, be like Faerdre, switch it off, live for better days. Live for that tenth birthday. She repeated that mantra to herself, under her breath, until it was a background hum of determination. Only it was so difficult to do or stick to, when she had nothing but these four walls to occupy her time—
A rap sounded at the door.
Devon jolted, clutching the towel reflexively. “Who is it?”
“Jarrow Easterbrook,” said a muffled, somewhat-familiar voice. “We met on your first day here, if you remember. Do you have a minute?”
“I…” There was no sense antagonizing the people of this manor. Not if she could manage to pull herself together and be polite for a few moments. “Just a second, please.”
She threw on a plain linen dress, toweled off her hair, and went to let him in. “Can I help you with something?”
“Sort of?” He shifted lean weight, jittery as a race dog. “I came to ask if you felt like playing Tomb Raider. You know, that game you tried here, on your first day?”
Her brain actually could not grasp what he’d said. “Pardon?”
“I don’t mean to offend.” He tugged on his hoodie strings. “Only, you seemed to like video games, and the Fairweathers don’t have them. Could be a fun thing to do, right? I thought I’d extend the offer if you wanted to come along and play again.”
Some princesses climbed out of towers to escape, or were rescued by princes with swords and ropes. Video games were hardly rope to a better life, but Tomb Raider still offered a kind of escape, if only in her mind.
“All right,” she said. “As long as I’m back by evening.” Princesses always had to return from their dances by nightfall—something that had seemed magical as a child, but rang ominous as an adult.
Jarrow’s grin lit his face. “Seize the day, eh?”
Devon followed him down a level, and most of the way across the sprawling, many-roomed manor. She hadn’t left her room in so many days that just stepping outside made her feel exposed, as if she walked the halls naked, a sensation not helped by the prying eyes and whispering voices of the Easterbrook siblings and staff who they passed in hallways. Jarrow was either indifferent or inured to it.
Her discomfort eased once they reached the games room. The sofa was criminally comfortable, Jarrow had access to an unending supply of beer to drink and graphic novels to eat, and Tomb Raider took her far away from her own twisted story. For the first time since being torn from Salem, her spirits lifted a little.
“We could try something two-player,” he said, after she died as Lara on yet another difficult level. “You ever played Crash Bandicoot? It’s brand-new, just out.”
Devon shook her head, annoyed he even had to ask. Of course she hadn’t tried Crash Whatever Bandit Cute. She hadn’t tried anything, having lived in a prison of edible fairy tales her whole life. “Can we finish this one first? I don’t mind if it is difficult.”
“You’re the guest.” He offered her another beer, which she politely declined because Matley would fume if she showed up drunk. All of Jarrow’s awkwardness from earlier had subsided.
“Are you sure it’s all right for me to be here?” she said. “Using your game room, I mean.”
“It’s not mine. Not really.” He was eating something called Watchmen, ink-heavy and rich-tasting, like all graphic novels. “The consoles, games, all that … belongs to Vic.”
“Who is Vic?”
Jarrow took another bite from his graphic novel. “Victoria Easterbrook. My older sister.” He hesitated, chewing slowly. “That bedroom you’re staying in used to be hers, too.”
The hair on the back of her neck prickled. “Used to be?”
“She doesn’t live here anymore.” A muscle in his shoulder twitched. He said, almost as an afterthought, “Vic liked games a lot. We used to play together.”
Currents flowed beneath the calm surface of his words and Devon, seeing a thing she could drown in, said nothing. She had her own currents to deal with and didn’t have enough headspace to even feel bad about ignoring his.
“Anyway.” He finished the graphic novel and picked up the controller, polishing the plastic on his sleeve. “You can come here all you like. Nobody else ever used this place except me and her.”
Despite herself, Devon was aware of the room taking on a different texture based on the context he’d given. The wallpaper, for example: elegantly patterned in swooping dragonflies. Vic’s choice, surely. Devon couldn’t envisage Jarrow having picked it out. The games themselves stood out, too. Tomb Raider was definitely one that Devon would also have chosen, had she ever had the option. An adventuring princess would have been catnip for any book eater woman. Victoria might be gone, but her voice still echoed.
The opening music started up, drawing her back into that shared virtual experience and away from the real world. She hardly noticed the passing of hours as they spent the rest of the afternoon and much of the evening in the games room. By some kind of unspoken agreement, neither of them mentioned the Family again, nor Matley.
She was therefore taken by surprise when, at a quarter to seven, Jarrow hit Pause and said, “It’s getting late. I think you might need to go pretty soon.”