All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [151]
Fiona finally had to let go of his hand.
“Mustard, please,” she replied, eyeing the hot dogs suspiciously as the vendor pulled them out of a steam cabinet. Cee didn’t let this kind of “preprocessed poison” into her kitchen.
Mitch paid for two dogs with mustard and two lemonades.
To be polite, she took a bite of the thing.
It was delicious.
She took three more bites, then felt full. That had to be the continuing side effect of her severed appetite.
“Another?” Mitch asked, giving her a paper napkin.
She dabbed her mustard-smeared mouth. “No, thanks. This is good for now.”
Mitch offered his hand. “Let’s see Central Park, then.”
Fiona took it and they strolled down the Avenue of the Americas.
“You’ve never said anything about . . . ,” Fiona started to say. “I mean, ever since Jezebel told everyone . . .” She stopped, remembering there were rules about her talking about her League side of the family in public.
“Ever since she told everyone about your mother? Atropos?” Mitch shrugged, but offered no further comment.
Suspicion gnawed at Fiona. Had Mitch insisted on their coffee date today because of her new social status? Like everyone else, was he attracted to the League’s power?
“It’s just that everyone treats me differently.”
He laughed softly. “Oh, your paparazzi?”
“They’re not fans, so much,” she countered. “They just hang around and ask about my relatives.”
Mitch made a noncommittal murmur.
She wasn’t getting anywhere with this. Mitch was either being evasive or dense, or, astonishingly, he really didn’t care about her League connections.
Fiona just had to know—so she blurted out, “Doesn’t it make a difference to you who my family is?”
Ahead were the trees and rolling lawns in Central Park. There was a huge dog show in progress: hundreds of people and just as many yelping canines.
“Ugh,” Mitch said. “Not exactly what I was hoping for.” He gripped her hand and tugged her toward a shadow. They crossed the plane of darkness—
—and this time, when they stepped out it was dark . . . but a normal nighttime dark.
As her eyes adjusted, she saw they stood upon wide flat stones. On the horizon were the crisscrossing silhouettes of spires and columns and the broken spans of once mighty bridges. Farther, there was a jagged outline of a pyramid. Wind whipped through this place, crying like a wounded animal. It chilled her.
“The Gobi Desert,” Mitch whispered. “This city has never been found by any archaeologist. It was here before the Xia Dynasty. Been buried and uncovered by desert sands countless times.”
“It’s so dark,” Fiona whispered back. “I wish I could see.”
“Dark is why I brought you here.”
Mitch gestured over their heads.
It was a moonless night, and more stars filled the sky than Fiona had ever dreamed possible. The band of the Milky Way dazzled her with colors she’d never seen at night.
“Miss Westin talks about the Middle Realms,” Mitch said. “How great they are. But I think this world has wonders to match anything out there . . . especially with the right person.”
Fiona got dizzy looking straight up in the dark, and she leaned against Mitch almost without thinking about it . . . as if this was the most natural thing in the world for her to do.
He pulled her slightly closer to him. “I don’t care,” he whispered.
Mitch was warm, and shielded her against the cold night air.
“Don’t care about what?” she asked.
“Your family,” he murmured. “You asked before if it made a difference to me. You’re probably wondering if that’s the reason I wanted to go out with you.” Mitch was so close, she felt his breath rush along her neck. “It’s not.”
Fiona’s heart pounded and she found it impossible to concentrate on the stars. “Why, then?”
He hesitated. She felt his heart beating, just as fast, next to hers.
“It was that first day,” he said, “at the placement exams. When I saw you . . . I knew.”
Fiona shook her head, not understanding.
“My family’s magic lets us look at people, and sometimes we get a glimpse of what’s inside—a person’s soul—if you believe in that sort of thing.”
Fiona