The Storm King(60)

It seemed like a very long time ago, but Tom remembered Lucy being angry about something. He remembered her stalking away, but Nate was right: She wouldn’t have left without telling him.

The fire had burned down enough to let shadows take root within the glade. Some of the Chinese lanterns had fallen, and it was hard to pull figures from the darkness thick along the perimeter of trees.

That’s when he saw it. And every day that followed, he tortured himself by wondering how different things might be if he hadn’t.

Just as stray underclassmen snuck into the graduation celebration, it wasn’t unusual for older kids to make an appearance as well. A party was a party, no matter whose it was. It was among a pocket of these college kids that Tom saw Lucy.

He squinted to make sure. He shaded his eyes from the glare of the bonfire. Even in the feeble light, her jade kimono wrap was unmistakable.

Tom tuned himself to the activities of the college group, and heard a peal of laughter tear across the glade. Lucy had been hoisted into the air by one of the men. He held her above his head like a figure skater might lift his partner.

If only he’d managed to restrain his reaction in that moment, Tom thought. If he had, maybe Nate wouldn’t have turned to follow his gaze to the fringe of trees.

“Nate!” Tom rapped on his friend’s back, hoping to distract him. The Creature of Catastrophic Futures had returned, and ahead of him every string of fate screamed of doom, doom, doom.



The man with Lucy in his arms was Adam Decker. His blond hair was freshly cropped, and his shoulders were astoundingly wide.

Tom couldn’t imagine what Lucy thought she was doing. Why was she with the one person who was guaranteed to make Nate flip his switch? Why did she have to ruin everything?

“Nate.” He tugged at Nate’s elbow. “Nate.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say, and he later hated himself for that, too.

Tom watched Nate’s face go slack at the sight of Lucy with Adam.

“Adam’s saying hello. And Lucy’s just being polite.” Tom darted between Nate and the scene unfolding at the edge of the clearing. Another squeal of delighted giggling came from Lucy. “I’ll tell her it’s time to go. That’ll give her the out she needs.”

Nate’s eyes faded to some middle distance.

Come back. Please, come back.

Tom put his hands on Nate’s chest and found it dripping wet. It had begun to rain again. It was a downpour.

Nate shoved Tom aside and began to make his way toward Adam Decker. Nate was strong and tall, but fresh off a season of Division I lacrosse, Adam Decker was like something made in a lab. He saw Nate coming and returned Lucy daintily to her feet. He prepared to meet Nate with a glowing smile and comic book biceps.

He came here for Nate, Tom realized. After a year and a half, the blond giant had returned to teach Nate the lesson he’d failed to impart in that chemistry lab. This was a patient predator, one from whom no forgetfulness could be hoped or leniency begged. Tom could imagine Adam choosing this place and time so that he was at his best while Nate, after hours of partying, was at his weakest. Adam wanted to give Nate more than a beating: He wanted to humiliate him in front of everyone. And Lucy had given him exactly the chance he’d been hoping for.

Lucy looked from Nate to Tom, and Tom couldn’t read the expression on her face. Was she happy to have Nate fight for her? Was she pleased that he’d left Tom’s side to rush to hers? Was she trying to prod Nate into being more attentive, or demonstrate to Tom who Nate most valued? There was a lesson here, but for whom was it intended?



The scent of blood was in the air. Something was ending. Tom felt it, and so did everyone else.

The masses coalesced on the pair as they braced for collision. Nate was the Boy Who Fell, and his fight against Adam was immortalized in the saga the town along the shore told of itself. Front-row seats to its sequel were first come, first served.

When Nate tripped on his way to meet him, the hulking athlete’s grin widened. Tom understood that his friend was headed to slaughter. Nate had somehow gotten far ahead, but if Tom hurried, he could still save him. He could throw himself between the combatants. He’d get hurt, but he didn’t care.

But people were in his way. They’d poured from the woods and were closing in from the edges of the clearing. Tom ran, but he wasn’t fast enough.

“Move!” he yelled, but no one paid attention.

There was a flurry of movement ahead, and the crowd gasped as one.

Tom knocked people aside to see. He shoved them and elbowed them and pulled them apart. He imagined Nate already on the ground in the mud, staring hopelessly at the sledges of Adam’s fists. Blood running with the rain down his face.

A scream built in Tom’s throat.

He slipped in the mud, and tore through the forest of legs ahead of him.

The crowd recoiled at something Tom couldn’t see. An animal desperation threatened to swallow him whole.

I can save you.

He clawed his way past the last people who separated him from his friend. Nate was somehow still standing, though wildly unsteady. He shuffled from foot to foot as if the ground beneath him bucked like a wild creature.



Tom gained an unobstructed view just in time to see Adam throw a hook at Nate. Somehow Nate managed to avoid it by leaning backward. This looked like sheer luck to Tom. His friend was so muddled that he barely kept his balance. Adam tried an uppercut, but the same thing happened.