Infinite Risk by Ann Aguirre Page A

do.”
    â€œMore like marking territory,” I muttered.
    â€œDon’t be absurd, dearling. I don’t need to mark for you to be mine.”
    That was both annoying and wrong, but I didn’t have the energy to argue. “Are you planning to ride the bus with me?”
    The Harbinger laughed. “Hardly.”
    But before I could speak, the talkative girl from Tanya and Jake’s group stopped beside us. “I heard you might come to the party on Saturday.” While she was allegedly talking to me, her gaze never left the Harbinger.
    Shit.
    â€œYou are?” I prompted.
    â€œLara. Sorry.” As far as she knew, I could be a doll made of pepperoni sausage. So much for thinking Wade was the best thing ever to happen to this school. “Is this your boyfriend?”
    A little of the Harbinger’s aura shivered through me, but either I’d built up an immunity or he was shielding me somehow. Yet Lara must be getting the full impact. If he asked, she’d probably run out into traffic. I grabbed his arm, annoyed that I probably looked jealous and possessive, when my main goal was delivering a vicious pinch. The Harbinger smirked, setting his hand briefly over mine, and Lara didn’t notice how he squeezed the fingers together, a little painful while seeming intimate. That pretty much described all our interactions.
    â€œYes,” he said. “You said something about a party?”
    I stepped on his foot, but it didn’t faze him. Lara enthusiastically explained how awesome Jake’s parties were, kind of legendary despite him only being a sophomore, and we should both totally come. By his gentle smile, I could tell the Harbinger thought this was all delightful and tremendously entertaining. He could probably find at least twenty people to feed from.
    Lara finished, “Normally I think the violin is boring and weird, but I bet your music is awesome. So you can even play if you want to.”
    Finally, I understood why he was carrying one, the whole fiddle of gold against your soul thing had to be massive in-joke. I sighed. “We have to go. See you around.”
    It took all my strength to haul him away from the conversation, and I didn’t notice I had a hold of his wrist until he resisted, staring at where my fingers held him. I let go at once.
    â€œSorry, but you can’t complicate my situation. You’re supposed to be a spectator.”
    â€œHow am I interfering?” he asked softly.
    â€œForget butterfly wings causing a hurricane; you’re a tsunami of nope. You just being here will screw things up.”
    â€œHow can you be sure? Maybe you need chaos on my level.”
    â€œWe’re not going to the party,” I said. “And that violin—”
    â€œIs not a prop.”
    â€œWhat?” Caught off guard, I stared while he opened the case, withdrew a burnished instrument, and played a few gorgeous bars. His music tore through me like an anguished, exquisite cry. My breath went. “Wow.”
    Satisfied with this response, the Harbinger put it away. “You underestimate me. I learned to play in Dublin, a long time ago. I was pretending to be human then too, and there was a red-haired girl, various misfortunes, and a dingy pub. It ended badly, of course,” he added with a flinty kind of tenderness. “Sometimes I still like to go out and play. It amuses me to seduce a few coins from people I could drink like a cup of tea.”
    â€œThat’s a terrifying metaphor.”
    The Harbinger snapped the case shut without looking at me. He obviously didn’t want to talk about taverns or red-haired girls; I remembered the shawl and gown he’d let me borrow before and wondered about all the sad stories he’d wandered through alone, set on his course by our tales, and then abandoned. It was hard to feel nothing for him. Hesitantly, I put out my hand but he stepped away as if acid coated my fingers. An