Scott Westerfeld - Blue Noon

“Nothing,” Beth finally said. “We’re just fooling around. No big deal.”

Their mother raised an eyebrow but then just sighed and looked at her watch. “Okay, whatever. I’m late. You guys try to have a good day.” She looked at Jessica and held up her cell phone. “Call me and Dad if you do anything after school, okay?”

“Sure, both of you. No problem.”

Beth’s toast popped up, and Jessica carried it to her little sister on a plate. “Here you go.”

“Thank you, Jess. See, Mom? Totally polite.”

“That’s nice, Beth. ’Bye, you two.”

The sisters said goodbye, then waited silently as their mother hoisted her heavy bag onto her shoulder and walked, footsteps fading, to the end of the hall. The door opened and closed.

Jessica turned to her sister, who was chewing toast thoughtfully. “Thanks, I guess.”

“For what?”

Jessica swallowed. “Not telling Mom about… everything.”

Beth shrugged.

“Like I said, Jess, I don’t want you in trouble. I just want to find out what’s going on here in Bixby.” She gave her older sister a sweet smile. “And I will too… one way or another.”

The mind noise of Jenks rumbled softly at this time of night. A fair percentage of the locals seemed to be awake—most watching the late-night dreck of unemployment TV—but this area was sparsely populated compared to Bixby. The thinly sprinkled minds dotted the mental landscape like lazy fireflies.

“Anybody near the tracks?”

She opened her eyes, licked her lips, and shook her head. “No, Rex. Nothing bigger than a squirrel.”

Her old Ford was parked in the same field as the night before, facing the long hump of the railroad line. Melissa couldn’t taste any human minds among the trees, which was one less thing to worry about.

Rex was almost being his old self, getting anxious over everything. He’d been worried that Cassie Flinders had told her friends everything she’d seen last night—or worse, spilled the beans to the local news channel.

Of course, Melissa had to admit, a bunch of thrill seekers showing up to dare “haunted” railroad tracks would be a pain. It was bad enough out at the snake pit, having to crawl over frozen teenagers playing games with so-called magic rocks. But this rip in the blue time was actually dangerous—they didn’t need any more Cassies crossing over and causing all kinds of inconvenience.

As Melissa cast her mind across the contortion, she realized that she could faintly taste the rip. There was something unnatural and vaguely wrong about this place, like the smell of chlorine on your own skin after swimming. She wrinkled her nose, wondering if the rip had grown since last night or if it only got bigger during eclipses.

“Maybe it’s too soon,” he said. “Any rumors Cassie started haven’t had much time to spread.”

“Well, we can come out here again tomorrow night if you want.” She flexed her fingers. “Scare the hell out of them. Of course, it does seem like a waste of effort.”

“What do you mean?”

“Saving every little kid who wanders into darkling land when all of Bixby’s fixing to get turned into one big buffet.” She saw his fists tighten, felt the tension course through him, and sighed. “Kidding, Rex. You know me, always happy to rescue people.”

He relaxed, took a breath. “Well, you rescued me.”

She smiled. The great thing about Rex was, he’d never forgotten the night she’d walked across Bixby to find him, back when they were kids. Even after all these years, all the mistakes they’d made, he was still that eight-year-old, forever grateful to her for showing him that the blue time was real, not just some recurring nightmare.

But what was he so nervous about tonight? Even with her new and improved skills, Melissa still couldn’t tease out the details sometimes. Not without physical contact, anyway, and Rex had been very edgy about touching today.

“Maybe Cassie hasn’t told anyone,” he said. “Maybe she really does think it was a dream.”

“I don’t know. She tasted really… clever.” Melissa paused, unsure if clever was what she meant. The kid was tough, and Melissa had detected a crafty streak in her that was a mile wide. Cassie Flinders might not have said much last night, acting very much like a kid in shock, but she’d listened to everything the midnighters had said in front of her, recording it all. The sooner Melissa rejiggered her memories, the better.

“Just don’t push too hard, Cowgirl.”

Rex’s guilt washed over her, sour milk mixed with battery acid, and she groaned. “That’s all behind us, Rex. No more screwups. I’ll be light as a feather in there. Just trust me, all right?”

“Okay.” He looked at his watch. “So what do we do for eight minutes?”

“Jeez, Loverboy, if you have to ask…”

He smiled and turned to her, leaning across the car seat. But his movements were tentative.

What are you hiding, Loverboy? she wondered.

As they kissed, she felt Rex’s nervous energy buzzing across his lips. She ran her tongue lightly across them, transforming their flavor from anxiety into desire, drawing him closer. Melissa’s own excitement—her anticipation of midnight, of using her new skills to manipulate Cassie’s frozen mind—began to build. It overwhelmed Rex’s tension, mixing with his arousal like two sharp tastes colliding in her mouth.

He reached to grasp her shoulders, his hands gloved against the accidental touch of steel, and pulled her closer. She ran a hand inside his jacket, feeling her mind begin to spin. She could taste the ferment of Rex’s ongoing transformation and wondered at its sweet electric taste, like Pop Rocks under her tongue, fizzing as it trickled down her throat.

Usually when they touched, her generations of mindcaster technique ensured that Melissa kept herself under control. But tonight Rex’s newfound confidence, the strength in him that grew every day, threatened to overpower her. She caught glimpses of what had happened the night before, saw through his eyes the darkling in its dance, acknowledging him as another predator. Talking to him, almost.

And then the real cause of his guilt and anxiety came through: how close he had come to letting his darkling side boil over. She wondered what would be left of Cassie Flinders if that had happened….

Her ancient memories cautioned Melissa that Rex was becoming something no mindcaster had ever kissed before. There were shadows in him, ancient and terrifying.

But she ignored the warnings—this was Rex, after all. He was the only reason she had survived this long. All through those years while her mind had been untutored and undefended, this was all she’d wanted: to be able to touch him. Melissa felt herself let go of everything Madeleine had given her, all mastery and control, and allowed herself to sink into the darkness inside him.

Like the old minds across the desert, the things down there didn’t have words, just images she could barely grasp—lore signs, a pile of bones, the smell of burning… the glorious rush of taking prey.

There was a moment of sharp pain, and then he pulled away, his body shuddering.

Melissa sat for a moment, watching his eyes flash violet in the moonlight, the echoes of what she’d felt in him subsiding slowly. She tasted salt and wondered for a moment what sort of mind noise it was, then realized that the taste was real—blood in her mouth.

“Crap,” she said, putting a hand to her lips. “I bit my lip. How lame is that?”

“It wasn’t you.” He turned away. “Sorry… if that was weird.”