The Price Guide to the Occult(26)

“Not necessarily, but don’t say that to all those sorority girls with their matching infinity signs. It would break their hearts.”

Nor laughed. “Well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a blackbird tattoo before. So two points for originality.”

“Not if you consider the reason I got it.” Reed smiled at her guiltily. “It was after a breakup.”

“Oh, shit.” Nor shook her head, embarrassed by the wave of jealousy that surged in her chest. She matched his grin with her own. “So your tattoo does have one of those deep but clichéd rationales! There’s a story here, isn’t there?”

Reed stared out at the water for a long time, thinking. Finally, he ducked his head and let out a half sigh, half laugh. “Fuck it,” he said, “you win. Yeah, there’s a story.”

“And?” she prompted.

“And —” He sighed and ran his hands over his face. “The problem was I wasn’t the only one she’d ensnared. I was just the one stupid enough to stay caught for as long as I did.” He picked up a rock and flung it into the lake as hard as he could. It landed with an angry plop.

He sat on a fallen tree trunk on the side of the trail. Nor sat, too, feeling the spray of the waterfall on her cheeks. The log was nothing but a husk now, but she could still make out a hint of its spicy fragrance. She scraped her fingers across the red bark, and in doing so, disturbed a yellow jacket hiding in a knot in the wood. It buzzed at her, angry, until Nor waved it away.

Reed squeezed his hand into a fist, and the bird’s black wings seemed to flutter. “After I ended it, I realized I just wanted to be back home. My last stop before leaving the mainland was a tattoo shop.” He turned away from the water and looked at Nor. “The idea was that this way, whenever I thought about her, I’d look down at my tattoo and remember —”

“The hot searing pain of having a needle punctured into your skin a hundred thousand times.”

Reed laughed, embarrassed. “Something like that.”

“So that’s it?” Nor asked, laughing. “It’s just going to be you and your bird tattoo all alone on Anathema Island for the rest of your life, huh?”

Reed nodded, feigning seriousness. “Damn right it is. I was thinking I could get into stamp collecting to pass the time. Maybe get some reptiles.”

“Like snakes?”

“Really deadly ones,” he said. “And iguanas. A couple Gila monsters. Anything to solidify my reputation as the island’s resident reptile man. We don’t have one of those yet.”

Nor laughed. “Sounds like you have it all figured out.”

“I thought I did, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to think about pain every time I look at my arm anymore.”

“No?”

“No. I’ll be too busy thinking about you and how hard you laughed at my dumb bird tattoo.” He smiled, and Nor’s cheeks were aching from laughing so much. “How could I think about you and be in pain?” he said. “You aren’t pain. Even the bees don’t sting you.”

You don’t know that. Nor thought about the scars that covered her skin, scars from a time when it had seemed like pain was the only thing that kept her tethered to the ground. Would she ever be able to forget that pain?

Reed leaned toward her, so close that she could see the droplets of water on his skin and on his eyelashes. They reminded her of morning dew on a blade of grass or a flower petal. Nor’s heart skipped a beat. Oh shit, he’s going to kiss me. But before she could even decide whether she wanted him to kiss her — rather, whether she wanted to let herself want him to kiss her — he didn’t.

Reed got up, strolled over to Antiquity, and scratched her gently behind the ears. Nor cringed, certain Antiquity would find the gesture condescending, but as much as she didn’t want to like him, the old dog couldn’t seem to help herself.

“Come on. I’ll race you home,” Reed said, and took off down the trail. Antiquity was quick to pull herself to her feet and sprint after him.

First Bijou, Nor thought as she started down the trail. And now Antiquity? If Reed somehow found a way to win over Judd, too, she’d be screwed.

Nor let Reed take the lead for most of the run back, leaving herself space to obsess unhealthily about how, a few moments ago, she had been certain that Reed wanted to kiss her.

They rounded Meandering Lane and passed the dock just as the ferry pulled away. Its few passengers stood on the deck. Nor suspected each of them had their own nefarious green tattoo.

Nor shivered. Her mother hadn’t shown any interest in her or the island since she’d left. The fear of Fern’s return may have been a dark cloud that hung over Nor’s head, but it was still a cloud, which was a far easier thing to fear than the possibility of having to face the real life thing itself — especially if the real thing was Fern Blackburn.

Nor traced the raised lines on her wrist with her thumb. Those had been Nor’s first scars. The ones her mother had given her when she’d split open Nor’s wrists and elbows and spilled her own child’s blood across the roof. The rest of Nor’s scars she had done to herself. After she’d received her Burdens, she could barely look at herself in the mirror without feeling afraid. She’d carved that pain into her skin using whatever sharp object she could find — a razor, a pair of scissors, or the sharp point of a pin. Now, when she ran her hands over her arms and legs, the skin there still read like braille, relating the story of how, for reasons even Nor couldn’t understand, hurting herself had once been the only thing that made her feel better.