about you. Benedict Le Fay, Benedict Le Fay, Benedict Le Fay.'
Ben staggers away from me as if I'd shoved him, although I haven't touched him. For the first time, confusion begins to thread through my anger. This upsets him that much?
'Benedict Le Fay,'I say again, curious now.
Ben seems to gather himself enough to lunge forward and
grab my shoulders unexpectedly, the motion making his
hood fall away from his head.
I gasp in surprise.
'Stop saying it like that. Please. Where did you learn that? You're going to''
The skies above us open up suddenly, drowning out whatever he was going to say. He groans and drops my shoulders, hastily pulling his hood up again.
I feel so battered by strangeness I'm exhausted. 'You need to tell me what's going on, Ben.'
'Fine,'he agrees. 'Yes. But not here. We can't stay here.'
'I'm not going anywhere,'I tell him, annoyed.
'You don't have a choice.'
'I'm not,'I repeat very deliberately, 'going anywhere. You're going to tell me what's going on. Right now.'
'I can't,'he snaps. 'You said my name. Several times. Not nicely. And now it's pouring and I'm wet. So we do not have a choice. We are going. If we stay here, the world will end.'
'I'm not going anywhere until you start making sense,'I insist.
'Selkie,'he bites out, 'I am the only thing that has ever made your life make sense. Do you trust me?'
I hesitate. Only hours earlier, I would have said yes unequivocally. I study Ben's pale eyes, but I might as well try to interpret the mood of the puddles growing around us. 'I don't know,'I admit.
'Good answer,'says Ben cryptically, which doesn't exactly
inspire confidence. 'But I need you to now, just for a minute more, just the way you usually do, and come with me.'
I search his face, his well-known features, the well-defined slope of his cheeks, the elegant curve of lips that I have given far too much thought to. I look over my shoulder. Beacon Street is nothing more than a row of impressionistic lights, looking very far away and unattainable to me.
'Please come,'Ben begs me.
I look back at him.
'Please come now,'he says. He is looking anxiously around him, and he is coiled up, poised to spring. 'Please. I will explain everything to you, but there isn't time right now. We have to go.'He looks back at me, pleading with me, and I realize that, up until this moment, Ben has never asked me for anything. I am still angry, but I am also struck by his nervous determination, so unlike him; he is normally so unflappable.
'Where?'
'The subway station,'he says.
It sounds safe enough, I figure. It's late, but there are still people in the subway, and it's only a few feet away. 'Okay,'I say.
'Thank you,'says Ben, heartfelt, and then he takes my hand, dashing to the cover the station represents. The raindrops are hard as they hit the cement, tiny explosions that reverberate and soak the cuffs of my jeans as I am pulled in Ben's wake, and then he tumbles through the station doors, pulling me after him, and he slams them shut behind us,
and every single person around us in Park Street station, the people going in and out, the people going up and down, all vanish into thin air. The silence that falls is terrifying in this space that is made for the noise and bustle of a city.
I stare around myself in shock because there were people there; they were everywhere.
'Well,'says Ben, and I realize that he is breathing much harder than the quick dash through the rain should have warranted. 'We just made that. Let's not do that again in the future if we can avoid it.'
I look at him, leaning against the door. 'What have you done?'
'I haven't done anything. You did it. You said my name. A lot.'
'And that made all the people in Park Street station disappear?'
'All the people in Boston,'he corrects me, and he steps carefully away from the door. 'If you open this door, we will be pulled out into the Nowhere, do you understand me? You cannot open the door. But you can look through the window.'
I
Ben staggers away from me as if I'd shoved him, although I haven't touched him. For the first time, confusion begins to thread through my anger. This upsets him that much?
'Benedict Le Fay,'I say again, curious now.
Ben seems to gather himself enough to lunge forward and
grab my shoulders unexpectedly, the motion making his
hood fall away from his head.
I gasp in surprise.
'Stop saying it like that. Please. Where did you learn that? You're going to''
The skies above us open up suddenly, drowning out whatever he was going to say. He groans and drops my shoulders, hastily pulling his hood up again.
I feel so battered by strangeness I'm exhausted. 'You need to tell me what's going on, Ben.'
'Fine,'he agrees. 'Yes. But not here. We can't stay here.'
'I'm not going anywhere,'I tell him, annoyed.
'You don't have a choice.'
'I'm not,'I repeat very deliberately, 'going anywhere. You're going to tell me what's going on. Right now.'
'I can't,'he snaps. 'You said my name. Several times. Not nicely. And now it's pouring and I'm wet. So we do not have a choice. We are going. If we stay here, the world will end.'
'I'm not going anywhere until you start making sense,'I insist.
'Selkie,'he bites out, 'I am the only thing that has ever made your life make sense. Do you trust me?'
I hesitate. Only hours earlier, I would have said yes unequivocally. I study Ben's pale eyes, but I might as well try to interpret the mood of the puddles growing around us. 'I don't know,'I admit.
'Good answer,'says Ben cryptically, which doesn't exactly
inspire confidence. 'But I need you to now, just for a minute more, just the way you usually do, and come with me.'
I search his face, his well-known features, the well-defined slope of his cheeks, the elegant curve of lips that I have given far too much thought to. I look over my shoulder. Beacon Street is nothing more than a row of impressionistic lights, looking very far away and unattainable to me.
'Please come,'Ben begs me.
I look back at him.
'Please come now,'he says. He is looking anxiously around him, and he is coiled up, poised to spring. 'Please. I will explain everything to you, but there isn't time right now. We have to go.'He looks back at me, pleading with me, and I realize that, up until this moment, Ben has never asked me for anything. I am still angry, but I am also struck by his nervous determination, so unlike him; he is normally so unflappable.
'Where?'
'The subway station,'he says.
It sounds safe enough, I figure. It's late, but there are still people in the subway, and it's only a few feet away. 'Okay,'I say.
'Thank you,'says Ben, heartfelt, and then he takes my hand, dashing to the cover the station represents. The raindrops are hard as they hit the cement, tiny explosions that reverberate and soak the cuffs of my jeans as I am pulled in Ben's wake, and then he tumbles through the station doors, pulling me after him, and he slams them shut behind us,
and every single person around us in Park Street station, the people going in and out, the people going up and down, all vanish into thin air. The silence that falls is terrifying in this space that is made for the noise and bustle of a city.
I stare around myself in shock because there were people there; they were everywhere.
'Well,'says Ben, and I realize that he is breathing much harder than the quick dash through the rain should have warranted. 'We just made that. Let's not do that again in the future if we can avoid it.'
I look at him, leaning against the door. 'What have you done?'
'I haven't done anything. You did it. You said my name. A lot.'
'And that made all the people in Park Street station disappear?'
'All the people in Boston,'he corrects me, and he steps carefully away from the door. 'If you open this door, we will be pulled out into the Nowhere, do you understand me? You cannot open the door. But you can look through the window.'
I
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