The devil twin

Going up

*Eden*

My sister wrote in her journal about the gardens and the spectacular display of bursting lights in the sky. “May we stay until after the fireworks?”

He gives me a generous smile that steals every bit of breath from my body. Oh, he is dangerous to my heart. I thought to take advantage, and instead I find myself enthralled by him.

“If it pleases you,” he fairly purrs.

“It would very much.”

“Then stay we shall.”

After he hands me down from the carriage, he gives orders to the driver to return at nine. At the entrance, he pays a shilling for each of us, tucks my arm around his, and leads me through the metal gates into the gardens. The crowd is dense. She-wolves and gents stroll along arm in arm. I suspect most are married and those who aren’t have chaperones nearby. Even a few children can be seen. It is the time for families, for the proper people to be about. This is what Elisabeth had seen, what she’s written about in her journal.

“Did your sister visit the gardens?” Mr. Swindler asks.

I jerk my head up and hold his familiar green gaze, seeing the compassion and understanding there. How is it that he is able to read me so well? “Yes. She wrote glowingly about the fireworks.”

“So although you were lost the other night, you knew where you were?”

“It’s possible to be lost, even when you know where you are,” I say tartly.

“Are you lost, Miss Newmoon?”

His question contains an undercurrent, as though he recognizes that of late I barely know myself, have moments when I feel adrift at sea. Sometimes I think coming to Blackrock City is a mistake. I’m not comfortable here. It hems me in. Or maybe it is merely my quest for retribution that makes me uncomfortable with my surroundings.

“Since my sister’s death and then my father’s, yes, I very often feel lost. Untethered.”

Those words are so true that it frightens me to think I can speak them to him so easily. I want to trust him with everything, completely, implicitly, but I know I can’t. Too much is at stake. “Do you suppose we could make a pact, at least for tonight, to talk of nothing except the future?”

He looks curiously at me. “How can we speak of what we do not know?”

“The present, then. It seems forever since I’ve only been concerned with the present.”

“Then tonight we shall focus on the here and now. Where shall we begin?” He asks.

So much to choose from, I hardly know where to start. Then my stomach embarrasses me by making a little rumble, taking the choice from me. “I suddenly realize I’m quite famished.”

He smiles. “A she-wolf after my own heart. Let’s see what we can find.”

As he guides me through a throng to the banqueting hall, I think under different circumstances that I would indeed be a she-wolf after his heart. He is strong, kind, and solicitous. He pleases me in small ways. He brings me smiles when I thought to never smile again.

I haven’t come to Blackrock City to find happiness, and yet it hovers, like a butterfly testing the petal of a wildflower. But no matter how much I wish otherwise, it doesn’t stay for long.

*****

“Hold me, Mr. Swindler, dear Goddess, please hold me.” The words slip out, whispered from fear, mingled with embarrassment. I seem to be the only one in a panic as the hot air balloon ascends. The other passengers utter a few hushed exclamations of awe and wonder. As Mr. Swindler’s arm comes around me, I clutch the lapel of his jacket and bury my face in the nook of his shoulder. He is as sturdy as the cliffs, as comforting, as he murmurs, “You’re perfectly safe, Miss Newmoon. We’re not going anywhere.”

“We’re going up.” I can hardly believe that I am standing in a basket… in a basket! … floating toward the heavens. I fear that I am going to bring up the warm meat pie he purchased for me earlier. I hadn’t considered that watching the earth move away from me would make my head spin.

Hot air balloon rides are a weekly occurrence at the gardens. The balloon is moored so its ascent is controlled. Once the passengers have a good look around, it will be brought down for another group. From the ground, it had looked to be so much fun. I don’t know why the thought of going up bothers me. I’ve looked out over the cliffs my entire life, but they don’t wobble, they don’t move. Steadfast and strong, they can support me. Can the basket hold the weight of everyone inside it? Or will we find ourselves falling through its center to the earth below?

“Listen, Miss Newmoon. Is that the quiet you longed for?” he asks softly. I hear it then. The din of the crowds has retreated. There is no whir of carriage wheels or clatter of horses’ hooves. We are above the noise. I almost think up here that I can hear Elisabeth whispering to me. How close are we to heaven?

The basket gives a little jerk. I release a tiny squeak and tighten my fist on his jacket as though it would hold me up if the balloon starts to fall.

“It’s quite all right; we’ve simply met the end of our tether,” Mr. Swindler purrs near my ear. If I weren’t so terrified, I might swoon from his nearness. “Open your eyes.”

“I don’t think I can,” I whisper, hoping none of the other four passengers are listening to me.

“Don’t look down. Simply look across. Trust me, Miss Newmoon.”

Swallowing hard, I barely open one eye. I can see treetops. I open the other and release a startled laugh. I can see rooftops. “Oh, look, there’s the Thames.”

I don’t know why I am surprised to see it. The gardens are built at its edge. Some people arrive in boats at its waterside entrance. Its nearness is one of the reasons that the gardens are so green and vegetation flourishes. The sun is beginning to set, creating a spectacular view awash in orange and lavender. What more is to be seen beyond this small area? How would my home appear from on high? I find myself envying the birds.

“I almost wish it would break free of its tether. Almost.” I bring my gaze to Mr. Swindler’s. He isn’t peering out over the land spread out below us like some elaborate tapestry. His eyes are on mine. “You’re missing the sights.”

His lips slowly shift up into a sensuous smile. “I don’t believe I’m missing anything.”

I wonder at the taste and feel of his mouth. What a strange thought. To realize how desperately I want to experience his kiss, how I yearn to have him desire me. Even knowing that his interest in me might be influenced by an association with Rockberry that he hasn’t claimed, I still find myself drawn to him. I hoped to distract him from his purpose in serving Rockberry, and I am the one distracted.

With my tongue, I touch my lips, imagining his causing them to tingle and swell. His gaze dips to my mouth, and I wonder if his thoughts are traveling the same path as mine. His eyes darken and narrow. Beneath my hands resting on his chest, I can feel the stillness in him, the tension building as though he fights some inner battle and is very close to losing whatever control he possesses. He takes in a shuddering breath.

He swings his gaze out to the river, and I wonder if my small, insignificant actions have stirred his passions. Judging by the deep furrows in his brow and the tightness in his jaw, he is bothered by something. How fascinating, but then I shouldn’t be surprised by my interest when everything about him intrigues me.

I turn my attention back to the scenery. I wish we could stay up here forever. What a different world it is, looking down rather than up. I can almost forget my reason for coming to Blackrock City, the need for retribution that nags at me. Up here I can imagine that love is attainable.

A pity my heart knows the truth of the matter. In very short order, I will sacrifice any chance I might ever have for a happy life.