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"Now think about what it feels like to punch, and toshield. The sensation is not thesame. Although Nash is clearly drawingon that punch power reservoir, it is–"
"There's something else involved." The more she thought about it, the moreconvinced she was Fisher had a point. "When I feed Nash, I really feel like I'm, well...almost like I'msitting next to myself. I don't get thatsensation at all when I shield or punch.
"I've been focusing on that," Fisher said, stillspeaking very low. "Isolating thesensation, trying to work with it. Thisis..." He stopped, frowningfiercely at the ceiling. "Closeyour eyes."
She studied his profile, then settled herself morecomfortably and obeyed.
"I'm going to reach for you," he continued. "I'm not certain how..." He paused again. "Tell me to stop right away if I hurtyou, and try not to shield-stun me."
Madeleine realised that part of the reason for the hint ofreserve in his voice was an unspoken: "Or mash me into paste".
"Okay," she said, deciding to postpone some seriousthought on a life of being uncomfortably dangerous.
Warmth. A delicatethread which was somehow a thing to capture all her attention and make her wantto shy away, to push back, but also light her up, a spark to a bonfire. It wasn't simple heat, was a presence, apiercing tenderness, underlaid by anger and fear.
"It's like I'm breathingyou."
The warmth faded, and Fisher moved so he could tangle fingerswith hers. "Did it hurt?"
"N-no." Painwas the wrong word, but she didn't have any proper equivalent. "Like drowning, but not," shetried. The sense of his presence as athing additional to the physical was fading, leaving her as alertly roused as ajolt of caffeine.
"Try it on me. Aslightly as you can."
This was far from simple. The power she used to shield and punch was something tangible to her,and her awareness of containing it was strong. Trying to locate and manipulate something presumably intrinsic toherself – perhaps literally her own self – was a bit like attempting to look atthe colour of her own eyes. But in a wayFisher had held up a mirror.
He drew in his breath, hand tightening on hers, and shefaltered, then reigned back the outpouring of self to a thread as delicate asgossamer, a thistledown spiritual embrace. Fisher reached back with a thread of his own, and that was something newagain, fragile and overwhelming.
They couldn't sustain it, and drew back, panting likeru
"There's no way I'm practicing that with a group,"she said when she could speak, and he laughed, but the sound had a bereft noteto it, so she kissed him and that was an easier, more familiar path to follow,but made different again by their intense, lingering awareness of each other.
Madeleine wondered if this was something non-Blues would beable to do, something related to the spirit or the soul, or if it was merelyanother newly discovered difference to make her less human. And whether she could possibly cope with theway she was feeling about this boy she'd known a bare few weeks.
"What are you thinking?"
She didn't answer, shifting against him.
"Tell me. You'rebothered by something."
"I was wondering," she said, very slowly, "ifwe would have gotten together if all this hadn't happened."
"No."
The answer was immediate, unhesitating, and she shrank alittle. His arms tightened around her.
"We would never have met," he explained, voicedropping to a husky note. "I wouldhave gone about my life and not thought I was missing anything. You would have – you would have paintedobsessively, all those transformative images, and I would be someone unimaginedand unknown, and I ca
He stopped, took a shaking breath, then laughed.
"I sound like Pan's understudy, failing to cha
Chapter Nineteen
"When I'm having an apocalypse, I always insist on sixstar accommodation." Noi waved agloved hand languidly, and turned so the skirt of her dress coiled andswirled. She considered herself in themirrored wall dominating one side of the store. "Maybe a little too Grande Dame?"
"Try the yellow one," Madeleine suggested.
"All I can think when I see that is Fire Hazard."
"Which makes it a good thing the cooking's all butdone. And, plus, aprons."
"There's not going to be any wi
Emily eyed herself in the mirror and evidently agreed,selecting a white dress from the store's limited range of evening wear and retreatingonce again.
The day had already been full. Madeleine and Fisher had emerged in time tohelp decorate the small function room chosen for the night's festivities, andonly smiled at teasing looks and comments. After lunch there had been swimming, and then a group effort atpreparing an evening feast, Pan insisting on joining in because: "What funis there in sitting by myself while you're all off together?"
With only a few things needing last-minute heating, they'dseparated to clean up and take advantage of finally locating the security codesto the foyer's selection of expensive stores. Party clothes.
"Pity there isn't a shoe place," Noi said, emergingto eye herself doubtfully. The yellowdress, a tight-fitting sheath covered in tiers of gold-shot fringes, shimmeredwith every tiny movement, emphasising her curves. "But I can live with barefoot in sheersilk stockings."
Madeleine looked down at her legs, glimmering blue throughthe semi-transparent skirt of the icy flapper-style dress she'd fallen for onsight. "I'm not sure stockings workfor me any more."
"Mm. You've got apoint. Shall I take the time to pointout that you're suddenly no longer trying to hide every inch of your starry starry skin?"
"Would there be any way to stop you?" Madeleineasked, and wondered how Noi would react if Madeleine shared her discovery thatbreasts were like tickling: a concept not fully appreciated until someone elsewas involved.
Noi took a few dancing steps, watching the fringes at herhips shimmer, then plumped down beside Madeleine.
"Okay, less teasing, more congratulations. You think you'll work out? Long term?"
"Maybe." Madeleine had to admit to wanting there to be a long term. "If the Moths give us the chance. I...I think I fell in love with him thismorning."
"What, not till then? Not that I'm arguing against try before you buy, mind you, but it tookhim all the way till morning to impress you?"
"Before, I knew I really liked him. A lot. But this morning when he woke up I was drawing him, and he asked if itwas okay to move. And then fetched mestuff, instead of expecting me to stop. Most people, when they meet me, it's completely obvious to them thatdrawing is important to me. But Fisher,he treats my drawing as important. Theway that makes me feel..."