Chapter 209: What He Wanted to Know

By eight on Sunday night, the lights in Faye Larkin's living room had been turned down for a horror movie. Four people occupied the couch in front of the television, two adults and two children, all watching the screen with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

Lena was sitting in Cyrus's lap. She had insisted on watching with everyone else, although she had spent much of the movie turning her head away whenever the music grew ominous. When something suddenly lurched into view, she buried her face against his chest and stayed there until the screaming stopped.

Cyrus kept his expression perfectly neutral.

That took more effort than he cared to admit. He knew the scene was fake. Someone had written it, hired actors, and put the whole thing together to make an audience jump. Knowing all that didn't stop his legs from feeling oddly weak every time the soundtrack went quiet and then exploded without warning.

It was the noise that got him. The pictures themselves weren't frightening in the slightest, and he'd be happy to explain that distinction if anyone asked.

Fortunately, nobody did.

Lena was still curled up against him, so he gave her a moment to recover while he checked on the other two viewers. Miles seemed composed enough, though he hadn't taken his eyes off the television. He was watching with the fierce concentration of someone determined not to miss a single scare.

Faye was harder to understand.

She sat beside them with a faint, pleasant smile, even while the movie showed things that Cyrus would have preferred not to examine closely. Her expression barely changed when the characters began shouting or something terrible appeared in the dark. She looked as comfortable as she had during dinner.

The dim lighting didn't help. The television cast a bluish glow over her face, catching that mild smile at moments when everyone on the screen was in a panic. Under the circumstances, Cyrus found Faye a little more unnerving than the movie.

She was probably just better at watching horror than he was. That was the explanation he decided to go with.

When the credits finally rolled, Cyrus felt his shoulders ease. The children had suggested watching a movie together, and he'd gone along with it without thinking much about the genre. Next time, he was going to pay closer attention before agreeing.

"That was a pretty good movie," he said as Lena moved off his lap.

He meant the compliment, more or less. Watching it once had been plenty.

Faye noticed him getting to his feet. "Are you heading home now?"

"Yeah, I'd better get going. Thanks for having me over today."

"You know you're welcome here."

She walked with him to the front door. Her purple bracelet was still on her wrist, and she raised that hand in a small farewell. There was a trace of reluctance in her expression, though she made no attempt to keep him any longer.

"Thank you again for the present," she said. "Be careful on your way home, and have a good night."

"You too, Faye. Good night."

Outside, Cyrus pulled his collar down a little. He'd kept it higher than usual for most of the visit, conscious of the mark Vera Sable had left near his neck. It was already fading, but Faye noticed details that other people missed. If she'd spotted it while greeting him, she might have asked questions he had no desire to answer.

He wasn't sure why he was particularly unwilling to let her see it. Explaining the mark to anybody would have been inconvenient, but with Faye the thought bothered him in a way he couldn't quite account for.

Better to avoid the subject entirely.

By tomorrow, the trace Vera had left should have faded enough to be irrelevant. Cyrus stretched and continued along the sidewalk at an easy pace, enjoying the chance to walk without a schedule or a teacher checking where he was supposed to be.

A streetlight ahead caught his attention.

There was nobody beneath it. The pavement around the pole was empty, and he couldn't see anything unusual in the shadows beyond. Even so, he felt a sudden, unpleasant flutter in his chest, like the warning that came just before something stepped out of the dark on the television.

He looked again and found nothing.

Apparently the movie had gotten to him after all. He'd sat through too many scenes designed to make an empty corner seem threatening, and now his imagination was doing the director's work for free.

Cyrus turned away from the streetlight and quickened his steps a little. The uneasy feeling followed him for a while, but it began to loosen once he reached his apartment building.

He let himself inside and closed the door. Almost immediately, someone knocked.

His hand paused on the lock.

The rhythm was familiar, though, and the tension lasted only a moment. Cyrus opened the door to find Daphne Whitlock standing outside his apartment.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No, nothing's wrong. I just wanted to make sure you'd gotten home."

Daphne seemed to consider what to say next. She chose her words with unusual care.

"Did you have a good time on the trip?"

"Yeah, I had a good time."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it."

Her expression brightened at his answer. She seemed genuinely pleased to hear that he was happy with how the trip had gone.

She hesitated again. "Have you had dinner yet?"

"I already ate, thanks for asking."

"All right, then. Have a good night."

"Good night, Ms. Whitlock."

After he closed the door, Cyrus went back to the little table in his apartment, thinking about the exchange. Daphne had barely asked him anything, yet there was something almost excessive about the care she'd put into each question.

He'd originally meant to take advantage of her guilt to make his circumstances a little easier. Now she seemed to have convinced herself that looking after him was her responsibility. He hadn't needed to encourage her nearly as much as he'd expected.

It was a peculiar development, but he couldn't say he was suffering for it. He'd grown rather good at dealing with troublesome women, if he did say so himself.

He took out his journal and compared what he'd written with what he could still remember.

The memories from when he was thirteen were fading little by little. He checked them carefully, looking for gaps and changes that might have appeared since the last time he'd gone through his notes. The loss was real, but it wasn't happening quickly enough to frighten him yet.

If things continued at this pace, he still had plenty of time to enjoy the life he'd made.

He had a place to stay without worrying about rent. His job at The Full Moon Lounge was going well, and his schoolwork had improved so much that he was now among the stronger students in class. Not long ago, even keeping up with his grades had seemed like an unnecessary burden. Now the practical parts of his life were finally starting to cooperate.

Cyrus smiled to himself and began recording the events of the two-day trip. There was plenty to write down, from the aquarium and the food to the trouble he'd stumbled into after leaving the hotel. His thoughts were easy enough to organize until he reached Audra's confession.

The smile faded.

He'd refused her because it was the right answer for him. That didn't tell him whether she'd still be comfortable treating him as a friend. She'd left the classroom without a word, taking the little whale charm with her. He had no way to know what either gesture meant.

He put the question aside for now. Tomorrow at school, he could pay attention and see whether anything had changed between them.

The rest of the night passed without dreams.

On Monday, Cyrus sat in his usual place at St. Alder Academy, occasionally glancing toward Audra. From behind, she appeared much the same as always. She sat with her usual composed posture and showed no obvious sign of the turmoil he'd witnessed after the confession.

Then again, they hadn't talked much during regular class hours even before all this happened. Audra, Owen, and Cyrus had their own routines, and their closeness was easier to notice when they were studying or spending time together outside lessons. Watching her sit quietly couldn't tell him much.

Lunch would be the real test. If they could spend that time together the way they used to, perhaps the friendship had survived.

As Cyrus drew his attention away, he happened to notice Iris Wexley. After what had happened on the bridge, he doubted she'd be trying to set him up again. He'd been very clear about what he wanted: she could sort out her feelings about Owen however she pleased, but she was to leave Cyrus out of it.

Iris was capable of understanding that much. At least, he hoped she was.

Cyrus glanced at Owen in the neighboring seat. Those two were an odd combination. Whatever happened between them next was none of his business, though he couldn't deny being a little curious.

The first classes of the morning passed as usual. Between periods, students gathered in their familiar clusters to talk and joke around, while Cyrus kept to his quieter corner. He was reaching for a comic to pass the break when his phone vibrated inside his desk.

Another message from Vera Sable.

This time, he didn't open it. Tapping the notification would mark the message as read, and he saw no reason to tell her he'd received it. A student paying attention at school could easily miss a text. That explanation suited him much better than leaving her on read.

He put the phone aside without checking what she wanted.

By the third class, Cyrus found himself paying more attention to the clock than he usually did. He had something he wanted to confirm, and waiting for lunch made the minutes crawl. He tried to follow the lesson, but his thoughts kept circling back to how Audra might act when they were alone.

Eventually, the bell rang for lunch.

Cyrus looked toward Audra almost without thinking. She rose with the same composed expression he'd seen all morning. Without acknowledging him or showing that she'd noticed his attention, she walked out of the classroom at an unhurried pace and disappeared into the hallway.