hand — still in his pocket, still clutching
the roll — squeezed so hard that the bag almost burst.
Again, Moth spoke. The voice was all too familiar.
“That’s not your business, man. Not tonight.”
Nix whirled. “What? What the fuck do you know about what is or isn’t my business?”
“The time to help is coming, Nix. I promise. At the beginning you have to let the world be as it is.”
Across the room, Jacob, fire-eaten, was carrying his trashed daughter out of the party. His eyes caught Nix’s again, hostilenow. He needed someone to blame — anyone but Neve — and Nix supposed he deserved it. Though he wanted to go to Jacob, protest
his innocence and declare his guilt at the same time, Moth’s last words stopped him.
“If you’re fucking me, I’ll … I’ll
burn
you.”
Nix didn’t know what he meant, but Moth seemed to.
The older boy smiled, his soul patch sharp as a tusk beneath his lip.
“You’ll light us all up one day, Nix Saint-Michael. I only hope I’m there to see it.”
“S O IT ’ S YOU .”
They were standing in a shadow near the back door, smoking a cigarette. Nix didn’t smoke often but he felt he needed a cigarette
now. The sight of Neve and Bleek and Jacob — especially Jacob, on fire, reproach in his eyes — had shaken him. He crouched
on his haunches then straightened up, stubbing his half-smoked cigarette in a nearby bottle.
“I had a feeling it was you.”
“Of course it’s me.” Moth nodded.
“James Motherwell, huh.”
“No.” Moth shook his head. “It’s Moth. That’s my realname, just like Nix is yours.” He paused. “But all of this is for later. Now. About the gathering in a few weeks.”
“‘The Ring of Fire,’” Nix said through a tight jaw, the quotation marks audible in his voice. It was as if someone had told
him about it, but he couldn’t remember hearing anyone saying the words.
“Exactly. You’re coming.”
Nix nodded.
“You need directions —”
“Highway ninety-seven …” He had a hard time believing the words were indeed coming from his mouth. He felt the cool beer in
his hand, saw Moth standing in shadow in front of him. He stuttered and then righted himself. “I think — I think I know where
it is already.”
Moth smiled. “You’re better than they said.”
Nix was on the verge of asking “Who?” but he thought he knew that, too. Not a name, a face, but … he knew. It had something
to do with the lights he saw.
“The Ring of Fire,” he repeated. “But why Jacob? What about Jacob?”
“All in good time, Nix.” Moth paused. “First things first: the time for explanations will come. I’m guessing I can trust you
not to tell anyone.”
Nix smiled, though he didn’t feel happy. “No. I don’t think I’llbe telling anyone.” Then again, speaking words that were barely occurring to him, he said, “Ondine’s coming though, isn’t
she?”
“Yes, Ondine’s coming. She has trouble finding places, though. It’s a blind spot.” Moth looked at him. “You’ll have to help
her.”
He’d have to help her. Nix felt impatient — the turn of events, Neve’s thin little arms, her helplessness, made him want to
get back to Ondine, be close to her, protect her.
“Is that all? No one else?”
“You don’t know? Interesting.”
“Not Finn?” The question was a formality. Nix knew Finn wasn’t coming.
Moth shook his head.
“Not K.A.”
“No, brother. Not K.A. It would have been nice, but no, not him.”
Nix’s eyes narrowed. He thought of all of them there at the party: Ondine, Moth, K.A., Neve, Jacob. Even Bleek. The proximity
was both completely random, born of life in a small city, and perilously meaningful. His mouth went dry and what came out
was almost a whisper:
“Morgan?”
Moth smiled. “Yes. Yes, Morgan. Of course Morgan. Morgan needs to be tamed, true, taught, but yes, Morgan, too. But you. You
are very precious. You are the most precious. Now,
the roll — squeezed so hard that the bag almost burst.
Again, Moth spoke. The voice was all too familiar.
“That’s not your business, man. Not tonight.”
Nix whirled. “What? What the fuck do you know about what is or isn’t my business?”
“The time to help is coming, Nix. I promise. At the beginning you have to let the world be as it is.”
Across the room, Jacob, fire-eaten, was carrying his trashed daughter out of the party. His eyes caught Nix’s again, hostilenow. He needed someone to blame — anyone but Neve — and Nix supposed he deserved it. Though he wanted to go to Jacob, protest
his innocence and declare his guilt at the same time, Moth’s last words stopped him.
“If you’re fucking me, I’ll … I’ll
burn
you.”
Nix didn’t know what he meant, but Moth seemed to.
The older boy smiled, his soul patch sharp as a tusk beneath his lip.
“You’ll light us all up one day, Nix Saint-Michael. I only hope I’m there to see it.”
“S O IT ’ S YOU .”
They were standing in a shadow near the back door, smoking a cigarette. Nix didn’t smoke often but he felt he needed a cigarette
now. The sight of Neve and Bleek and Jacob — especially Jacob, on fire, reproach in his eyes — had shaken him. He crouched
on his haunches then straightened up, stubbing his half-smoked cigarette in a nearby bottle.
“I had a feeling it was you.”
“Of course it’s me.” Moth nodded.
“James Motherwell, huh.”
“No.” Moth shook his head. “It’s Moth. That’s my realname, just like Nix is yours.” He paused. “But all of this is for later. Now. About the gathering in a few weeks.”
“‘The Ring of Fire,’” Nix said through a tight jaw, the quotation marks audible in his voice. It was as if someone had told
him about it, but he couldn’t remember hearing anyone saying the words.
“Exactly. You’re coming.”
Nix nodded.
“You need directions —”
“Highway ninety-seven …” He had a hard time believing the words were indeed coming from his mouth. He felt the cool beer in
his hand, saw Moth standing in shadow in front of him. He stuttered and then righted himself. “I think — I think I know where
it is already.”
Moth smiled. “You’re better than they said.”
Nix was on the verge of asking “Who?” but he thought he knew that, too. Not a name, a face, but … he knew. It had something
to do with the lights he saw.
“The Ring of Fire,” he repeated. “But why Jacob? What about Jacob?”
“All in good time, Nix.” Moth paused. “First things first: the time for explanations will come. I’m guessing I can trust you
not to tell anyone.”
Nix smiled, though he didn’t feel happy. “No. I don’t think I’llbe telling anyone.” Then again, speaking words that were barely occurring to him, he said, “Ondine’s coming though, isn’t
she?”
“Yes, Ondine’s coming. She has trouble finding places, though. It’s a blind spot.” Moth looked at him. “You’ll have to help
her.”
He’d have to help her. Nix felt impatient — the turn of events, Neve’s thin little arms, her helplessness, made him want to
get back to Ondine, be close to her, protect her.
“Is that all? No one else?”
“You don’t know? Interesting.”
“Not Finn?” The question was a formality. Nix knew Finn wasn’t coming.
Moth shook his head.
“Not K.A.”
“No, brother. Not K.A. It would have been nice, but no, not him.”
Nix’s eyes narrowed. He thought of all of them there at the party: Ondine, Moth, K.A., Neve, Jacob. Even Bleek. The proximity
was both completely random, born of life in a small city, and perilously meaningful. His mouth went dry and what came out
was almost a whisper:
“Morgan?”
Moth smiled. “Yes. Yes, Morgan. Of course Morgan. Morgan needs to be tamed, true, taught, but yes, Morgan, too. But you. You
are very precious. You are the most precious. Now,
Similar Books
