Ten Thousand Skies Above You
Page 32

I have to wake him up. He has to know how badly this went wrong, so he can help me figure out a Plan B.
Even though I still can’t fully trust Theo, I know I need him now.
Remembering his reaction to the red dress, though, I go ahead and change in the bathroom, wrapping myself in the white robe I brought. The robe’s fabric is as thin and cheap as I’ve come to expect in this universe, and the hotel doesn’t seem to consider “heat” one of the guest amenities. So I’m shivering as I sit on the edge of the bed and whisper, “Theo?”
“Mm.” He stirs slightly, but then snuggles back into the pillow.
I put one hand on his shoulder. The remaining Firebird dangles from my robe as I lean closer. Theo’s skin is warm through the white fabric of his undershirt. “Hey. Wake up.”
He half turns, opens his eyes, and gives me a groggy smile. Then he slings one arm around my waist and tows me down onto the bed.
I try to protest, but I can’t speak, because his mouth is covering mine.
Theo and I kissed only once before, and it was a pretty good kiss—but nothing like this. This is passionate, warm, searching. At first I’m too startled to react, and before I can even speak, he rolls over so that he’s on top of me. This isn’t my Theo.
“I was having the weirdest dream,” he murmurs as his hands press mine against the mattress. “Sorry I fell asleep. Let me make it up to you.”
He kisses me again, and I feel the weight of his Firebird against my chest. I pull back and turn my face from his. “Theo, wait.”
“Hey, what’s wrong?” He pulls back and props up on one elbow—even as his other hand trails down my body, casually curving over my breast before coming to rest on my belly. “Are you all right?”
“Hang on.” I grab his Firebird, quickly set a reminder, and—
“Gahh!” Theo shoves himself backward, slamming into the headboard. The pain of the reminder makes him clutch his chest, but it’s the sudden rush of memories that make his eyes go wide. “Oh, I—I just— I didn’t mean to—oh, crap.”
“It’s okay.” I’m so grateful to have him back with me that I don’t care about what just happened here.
Theo, however, does. “Listen, Marguerite, I’m so, so sorry about—the kissing, and the hands, and—I’m just really sorry I did that.”
“It’s all right. You weren’t yourself. Literally.” I straighten my robe as I sit up, trying to make myself forget it all.
“Right. Got it. Moving on.” Then Theo stares at my throat. “Wait. You’re missing a Firebird. Where’s the other one?”
“Paul has it. Theo, he figured it out. He knows everything, and he took my Firebird.”
I vent the story to him, holding nothing back; I tell Theo what I felt, what I did, from the first smile on the sidewalk to my brazen offer to go to Paul’s place, all the way to shouting out the things I knew about my Paul as the other one walked off. By the end, my voice is shaking—from fear, rather than any urge to cry. I’m so scared for my Paul now that it eclipses everything else.
Our eyes meet, and I know we’re both worried about the same thing. If I tried to travel home with Paul’s Firebird—the one storing a splinter of his soul—would I destroy it? If so, then my choices may be living in this universe forever or killing Paul.
“We have to think of something,” I say. “Some way to get to Paul, to get that Firebird back. I don’t know how we even start to—”
“Hey.” Theo takes my hand in both of his. “We’re going to figure something out. All right? Don’t panic.”
“I’m not panicking.” Even as I say it, though, I’m trembling so hard my entire body shakes. “But I don’t know what to do.”
“It’s late. You’re tired, and you’ve had one hell of a night. Right now you need to calm down. Take deep breaths, try to sleep. We’ll tackle this in the morning.”
“How am I supposed to sleep? Even if we could get Conley to tell us the other two dimensions we need to search, we can’t save Paul and get home. Not without that other Firebird.”
The springs of the mattress creak as he leans closer to me, and his fingers tighten around mine. “If we figure out where Paul is, and we only have two Firebirds, then I’ll give you mine. You’ll be able to take him home.”
“But—you’d be left behind.”
“You’d come back for me,” Theo says simply. “Or Paul would. One way or another, I’d get home in the end.”
He says that knowing how strange it is to be lost in another version of yourself. Knowing how dangerous other dimensions can be. “I can’t let you do that.”
“The hell you can’t. You’re not the only one who loves Paul Markov, okay? Anything you’d do to get your boyfriend back, I’d do for my best friend.” He shakes his head; in the moonlight filtering through the window shade, I can see his rueful smile. “Or do you still think I’m the same as that other Theo? Always looking out for number one?”
“You’re not him,” I say, just as I’ve said many times before. Maybe I’m finally starting to believe it. “But . . . do we even have the right to do this? To sabotage this technology when they feel like it’s their only hope?”
“They don’t know that. We don’t know that.”
“If there’s any chance they’re right, then I’m basically prioritizing my Paul’s life over the lives of every other person in this dimension.”
Theo scowls in irritation. “I have two words for you. Global and warfare. We didn’t start the fire, Marguerite. The war going on in this dimension is bigger than the people we’ve met here. Bigger than this country. Could the Firebird help them? Maybe. But from what I can see, no one weapon could win it for them. So we can’t tie ourselves in knots worrying about these guys. We have to look out for ourselves. I need a cure, and Paul needs to come together and get back home. Right?”
I believe what he’s saying, mostly. Yet guilt still weighs me down. “I guess.”
More gently, he adds, “Now, come on. Try to sleep.”
Even though I want to argue with him, I can feel exhaustion creeping over me, dark and heavy. I ease down onto the bed, lying on my left side so that I can look toward the moonlight. The second my head touches the pillow, I know I won’t be awake long.
The mattress shifts as Theo moves toward the floor, but I reach back and catch his arm. “Don’t go.”
After a moment, he lies down behind me, spooning around my back as he wraps one arm around my waist. It could be a lover’s embrace, but it’s not. He’s simply here with me, close enough for me to hear him breathe, so even in sleep I’ll know I’m not in this alone.
Yet I can’t stop my imagination from wandering across San Francisco. I envision shabby military housing, and Paul sitting on the edge of his bed, alone. The Firebird is in his hand, and he’s mad as hell. But his heart is broken just the same.
12
BY NEXT MORNING, THEO AND I ARE IN STRATEGY MODE.
“First thing we have to figure out is whether Paul has talked to your parents,” Theo says as he combs his wet hair wearing just his undershirt and uniform pants.