The Girl Who Would Be King(122)

It turns out everyone is a better detective than me.

I look back toward the bedroom and Clark is leaning in the doorway.

“You figured it out even before I told you?”

He shrugs and smiles his boyish smile. “I’m no dummy. Once the thing on the train happened, it was pretty easy to go back and remember things about our life that never quite made sense. And once I thought it – well, it just sounded right. There was always something special about you. I knew it from the first time I laid eyes on you.” He looks at me intently and I wonder if he’s going to say it. “And it wasn’t in the bookstore. You’re the one that saved me from getting hit by the train.” He pauses. “Aren’t you?” I nod silently and look back at him, my eyes wet. “Thank you for saving me,” he says simply.

“You’re welcome,” I say, a smile spreading slowly across my face.

“Besides,” he says, walking over and pulling one of the articles down and looking at it intently. “The girl I loved had disappeared. I wasn’t going to just go back about my business,” he says. We’re quiet for a long, peaceful moment, him watching me, me staring at a room wallpapered with the good I’ve done. It’s a great gift he’s given me and he probably doesn’t even realize it. He walks over to me and holds me for a long time. I break the embrace because I have to. It feels like cutting off a limb.

“Her name is Lola,” I say quietly as I pull away. “The girl’s name is Lola. and I don’t mean to scare you off blondes, but she’s a blonde, tall, almost my height, very slender, long legs, icy blue eyes. If you see anyone like that trying to get close to you…well, don’t let them, okay?”

“Sure, sure,” he says lightly. “No leggy, blue-eyed blondes. You couldn’t have picked something easier?”

“No, I’m afraid leggy blondes are off the menu for the foreseeable future,” I say, smiling playfully, grateful for this strange, perfect moment of normal. I kiss him a last time on his warm mouth and duck out the door before either of us can say anything else sad and horrible.

On the roof of Clark’s apartment building I sit cross-legged with the stone in my right hand and concentrate until I feel like my brain is about to explode through my ears.

Eventually, I feel the stone leeching my power away and I almost break contact because it feels like it should be wrong for it to take from me, but something about it also feels natural and so I follow my instincts and stick with it. At first all I see is this bright beating dot, like a heartbeat, and then I see a much smaller one, at least ten times fainter, almost unnoticeable. I ignore it for the time being and focus on the larger beat and suddenly, even though my eyes are closed, I see Lola before me. My eyes snap open in alarm but when I look around it’s just the New York skyline and the rooftop. I glance around anxiously and close my eyes again. The image is wavering and gauzy, as if projected onto a watery surface. Lola is sitting in a dark room, staring at a blank wall. Her face is a mask I don’t understand except that it reminds me a little bit of myself. I yank back, away from her slightly to try to pinpoint where the room is. It’s somewhere on the west coast, Los Angeles, somewhere in downtown L.A. by the looks of the big buildings. I pull myself back even farther and look again for the smaller dot. Once I lock onto it, I reach out and pull toward it with all my strength, and with a snap I find myself staring at a flickery image of Jasper. He’s bent over a book, studying intently. I look around his living room and then pull back until I’m outside. It’s the same house from when I tried to visit, last June.

I stare at the stone. As I relax I feel my energy and strength pouring back into me.

So, the stone can find Jasper and Lola. Surely the stone is how Lola first found me, otherwise she would have come back once she realized I wasn’t dead in the river. What do the three of us have in common? The question boggles my mind as the immediate answer seems like nothing. Unless. Does Jasper have superpowers? No, surely not. Surely, I would know, surely I would have sensed something when I saw him. I wrack my brain. What do Jasper and I have in common? Parents. Dead parents. Blood.

Oh.

Blood.

What if we share blood with Lola? Could she be related to me? To us? My mind reels with the possibilities. I have to find the book. I push it all away from me and stand up. I brush myself off and look around before taking to the air at a speed that I hope will avoid any curious onlookers. I have to admit, puzzles, nightmares, and Lola the serial killer be damned, the flying is freaking fantastic. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to the freedom of it. It’s so glorious that I curse the years I wasted not knowing I was capable of it. I fly toward Jasper, toward the beating of his heart, which I can now feel almost in time with my own.