Shadow and Stars

Thirty

"Cam."

For a moment, I contemplate pretending I hadn't seen him, but I know that won't work. And the more I look at him, the wider the chasm in my heart becomes. But for all the hurt I feel, I have to admit there's anger there too.

And it's the anger that propels me forward, not the hurt. The hurt is telling me to run back into the school and hide until he's gone.

"Julian, what are you doing here?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest when I reach him.

"What do you mean? You just dropped me off here to pick up my car." He looks me up and down. "When did you have time to change?"

I lean against the driver's side door and rest my hand on my hip. "I can't believe you don't know."

"Don't know what, Cam?" he asks, stepping toward me.

I hold my hands out, stopping him from moving any closer. "Don't touch me. You're disgusting."

His eyebrow dips, but he is calm when he says, "That's not what you said the other night."

A wave of nausea washes over me, and I try to tell myself it's just from living in Luna's body when I know damn good and well it's the memory of seeing the two of them together.

"You really don't know, do you? You are so blind that you can't tell," I say, breaking my resolve and taking one step closer to him, the backs of my knees brushing the bumper of the Mustang. "I thought we were connecting, Julian. I was falling for you. Then you go and do this shit...can't even tell the dif—"

He moves in front of me so fast that I hardly have time to register what's happening. Slipping his arm around my waist, he pulls me flush against him and presses his forehead to mine. "I do know the difference," he murmurs, the spearmint on his breath cooling my lips. "You may be identical," he reaches down and slides up the leg of my sweatpants, his fingers brushing the spot where the crescent moon should be, "She may have your birthmark now, but she's not you, Cam. I know who I fell in love with."

I gasp and clench the front of his jacket, pulling him even closer, closer than I had thought possible. When our lips crash into one another, I feel the pieces of my heart stitching themselves back together, the hurt fading into nothingness.

Julian lays me down on the hood of the car and places his hands on either side of my head, holding himself above me. When our eyes meet, I feel the electricity flowing through my veins, the power of the magnetic pull between us almost too much for me to bear.

"I'm sorry I was such a bitch; I thought you slept with her," I whisper, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I have the chance to stop them.

He shakes his head and pushes a curl off my forehead, smoothing it down and cradling my head in his palm. "Never. It was obvious it wasn't you, Cam. It took me all of three minutes to know it was Luna up to no good. And when I saw your birthmark on her leg, I didn't know what the hell was going on, but I knew. I knew it wasn't you." He lowers his face and presses his lips to the hollow of my neck. "I didn't fall in love with your body; I fell in love with your soul. And no one, not even your aunt the moon goddess could replicate that."

My skin heats, and then we're kissing again, the relief and bliss almost outweighing the immense anxiety that's still eating me alive.

"What were you doing here so late, anyway?" I ask as we hop down off the hood of the Mustang, straightening our clothing and exchanging sheepish glances.

"Well, Aunt Psychopath did drop me off here—I had to hang out with her today, or she'd know something was up—and knew I had to find you. I figured there were only so many places you'd be; my next stop was going to be the Crescent."

I look up at him, remembering where I was going before I saw him. "I need to go there now. Can you take me?"

"I'd be honored and obliged."

"You just want to go back there," I tease as I drop into the passenger seat.

"Only with you," he says as we take off in the hotel's direction. "What do you need to do?"

"I went back to talk to Pearl," I begin, and at his shocked expression, I start from the beginning—waking up chained to the bed at the Crescent all the way to the quote Pearl kept repeating.

"What was the quote?" he asks, keeping his eyes on the road but his hand on mine.

"Be stirring as the time; be fire with fire; threaten the threatener and outface the brow of bragging horror," I say, not even needing to think twice; it is now seared into my memory.

"Ah, King John," he says, and I snap my head in his direction.

"You would know that," I remark.

"Well, yeah; Ms. Hobson made us read at least five obscure Shakespeare plays last year in Theatre Appreciation."

"Where were you when I was practically breaking into Coach Cline's office to use the computer?"

"Keeping your unhinged aunt under control?"

"Right. Anyway, when I was at the Crescent earlier, I saw an old anthology of Shakespeare plays. It has to be connected."

He pulls the car into a spot with no regard for his parking job and we run in through the basement door we've become so accustomed to.

"You know where it is?"

I nod as we jog down the corridors, the creaky wooden floors groaning under our shoes. "Records room."

Once inside, I spot the book, dropping to my knees in front of the box it's in. Julian squats beside me as I open the book to the spot with a tattered bookmark peeking over the top of the pages.

It is marking Act V, Scene I of King John, and I don't have to look at the words to know that quote is on the page.

My attention instead is on the bookmark, where in tiny cursive handwriting on the bottom it reads, "The uppermost room holds the answers you seek."

We look at each other, and I pull the key out of my pocket as we say together, "The attic."