If a look could be heard, his would be now. But this silence suddenly sounds gentle.
“Hey.” Suddenly, River is beside me and pulls me into his arms. “God, I’m sorry. Calm down, okay. I’m here, baby.”
I hold on to him, but I can’t stop the fear. The fear of what happened today, the fear of home, the fear of school, and now the fear of River’s rage. He rubs my arms repeatedly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Stay here, Tucks. Okay? Everything’s fine, I’m here.” My teeth chatter. I’m so glad he’s himself again, so glad he’s calm again, and yet I don’t stop shaking. I would really like to know what’s wrong with him.
River takes my face in his hands. “Look at me.” I try, but my eyes lose focus as images of Chester and Jack merge and images of River destroying everything appear. “Look. At. Me.” Now he whispers. “I. Am. Here. I’m not angry anymore. I was just so afraid.” The quietness in his voice, the gentleness, is what brings me back a little. “Tell me how I can help you. Show me. With your hands, somehow...”
However, my fingers are shaking so much. I try to form letters, but I can’t get them under control. River holds them for a moment, warming them with his hands.
“Try again.”
I do something, but I don’t know if he can interpret it. My mind is still in a fog, like I’m on a ghost ship abandoned at sea.
“Okay, that’s a B, an E, an A. O. No? Okay, a U... Do that again. Not so fast, Tucks, I’m not that quick. T...” River murmurs the letters one after the other. “Beautiful words. Is that what you want to say? You need nice words?”
When he pulls me back into his arms, I nod exhaustedly. The images continue to flicker, but now they’re in the background, like on a movie screen.
“Okay. You’ll get beautiful words...” He doesn’t seem surprised at all, as if it’s normal.
That’s what I love about him. He doesn’t see my behavior as out of the ordinary. He rocks us back and forth a bit, probably thinking. “Night angel’s song,” he suddenly says. “Do you like that?”
I nod even though I’m still shaking and cold.
“Okay... how about moon bird bright. Night wind woven. Moon twilight blue.”
Moon twilight blue. The most beautiful words I’ve ever heard. In fact, the images start to fade. I bury my nose in his shirt and feel his warmth. Everything is fine; he is here. Nobody will hurt me, and he’s cooled down.
“Hey, I have more. Just give me a little time... moon shadow whispers. Night sparkle music. Silver star dark, moon-milk shimmer.”
I repeat all the words in my mind, feeling the magic of them fill me with calmness.
River holds me tighter against his chest, and I feel his heartbeat against my ear, his deep breaths. Cautiously, I place my hand under his shirt, feel his warm, smooth skin, and place my fingers over his heart. He flinches, probably because my hand is icy and his skin is so hot. Da-dum. Da-dum. His heart beats calmly and evenly under my hand, settling me in a way I never thought possible.
“Someone once told me that some words are like music,” he says softly. “And somehow that’s true. Words have their own sound, their own vibration. You can whisper them, and their syllables spark and tickle your stomach. You just have to allow it.” He gently strokes my hair with one hand and twirls a strand around his finger. “Starfire surf, dream magic nebula, starward.” I press my fingers a little harder against his chest, and he understands.
“You particularly like starward.”
I wish I could ask him who told him about the words—that they can be like music. Maybe June.
Over the next few hours, River whispers many beautiful words to me, and at some point, they actually blur into a form of music, and it feels like he’s singing. I forget everything around me. Only he counts. Him and these words. They’re like a protective shell that entwines us. They are our night magic cocoon.
Chapter 17
Isleep restlessly. I dream of Chester attacking me, then turning into Jack, and when I wake up, I’m drenched in sweat and full of panic-tinged, scarlet images. It takes me a while to realize that I’m not in the Davenport mansion.
“Everything is fine, Tucks. It was only a dream.” River sits on the edge of the bed and pushes my damp hair back. He’s still wearing the black shirt and looks at me seriously, as if he wants to see inside me. Maybe he’s afraid that his behavior yesterday might have frightened me so much that his attempt to save me will fail. “We have to go,” he says after a moment. “I have no idea when Buddy Miller will show up and ask awkward questions. Tom left earlier—maybe he was afraid he’d get in trouble for the gun.”
Confused, I glance at the clock above the door, which, luckily, remained intact during River’s freakout. It’s eight o’clock in the evening, and almost dark outside.
I have to concentrate to follow his words. Tom is gone? I didn’t even thank him.
“This Miller guy will wake up from his delirium soon, and then all hell will probably break loose.”
How long has it been since I showered? One hour? I merely wanted to rest for a bit afterward, but obviously fell asleep.
River stands. “I don’t want to worry you, but I’m afraid those bastards might come back. If Miller is John’s old man...and his brother is the police chief... then John and his buddy might have a free pass in this town. I don’t know how it runs here. And if they find out Tom left, and I don’t have access to a gun...”
I understand what he’s trying to tell me and pull myself away from the blanket. Still wearing my jeans and a black turtleneck sweater of River’s, I hastily slip on my flip-flops.
