He ignored her. He was used to people giving him second, third, and sometimes fourth glances. He was even used to people pretending to take pictures of themselves or the scenery while actually taking pictures of him—or, more likely, his sister or brother. He probably expected her to pull out her phone and take a picture of the hot-dog stand, the pots of flowers, or even the trash bags lining the curb in front of the mailbox, while conveniently catching him in the photo.
Instead, she cleared her throat and asked loudly, so she could be heard over the early-morning traffic, “Excuse me, are you Luvic Bard?”
A dozen people turned to stare at him. He flicked his hand, altering his nose and his eyebrows imperceptibly and changing the color of his eyes from brown to burnished gold, before glancing in surprise at the woman. “Me?”
An older woman with a plastic rain bonnet narrowed her eyes. “Can’t be. Luvic Bard’s not this good-looking.”
Luvic grinned. “Thank you.”
The first woman stared at Luvic a moment longer and then blushed. “Sorry. You looked like him for a second. But not anymore. The lighting, I guess.”
“Anyway,” the older woman in the rain bonnet added, puffing out her chest, “he’s wrecked over his siblings’ deaths. I saw it on TV last night. He’s in a downward spiral. Drugs. Alcohol. Women. His friends are worried. No one has seen him sober since the funeral. He’s unstable. What do you expect though? Probably be dead in a few years.”
The light changed, and everyone hurried across the street, forgetting the Luvic Bard lookalike.
Luvic didn’t move. He stared after the older woman, his mouth open, one finger in the air.
“I . . . she . . .” He closed his mouth and gave me a perplexed look. “Downward spiral?”
I shrugged. “She’s right. The real Luvic would’ve been a wreck if his brother and sister were killed.”
He glanced at me quickly, made a noise, then grabbed my arm and dragged me across the street.
“You’re not strong enough,” I said.
“Excuse me?” Luvic dropped my arm, and we ducked under a scaffolding and hurried up Broadway north toward Houston.
“If you were heir, I wouldn’t be able to do this”—I waved my hand in front of his face, and the illusion he’d put on at the crosswalk unraveled—“so easily. It’s like a toddler made your illusion.”
He glanced at his reflection in a dress-shop window and frowned at his face. “I’m worn out from rescuing you.”
“I’m only saying, if I have suspicions, then someone else will too. Does the Bard know?”
Luvic veered down Spring Street, escaping the hustle of Broadway. He stopped under the shadow of scaffolding and backed me against the crisscrossed metal poles, caging me in. A low rattle escaped, and his eyes flashed orange.
A street sweeper rumbled past, shoving dust and dirt over us like a miniature sandstorm. I looked up at Luvic. He was at least eight inches taller than me, and standing this close, I had to tilt my head to stare into his eyes.
“Does the leggerock know you aren’t completely his?” His voice was a low growl.
I swallowed, my mouth going dry. “Luvic.”
He shook his head. “They’re dead, Mari. Just like Finn is dead. All right? None of them can help us. It’s just you and me. So you’re going to help me, and I’m going to help you. And we’re both going to try to stay . . .”
Alive.
I thought he was going to stay alive, but instead, he ended with, “Ourselves.”
Luvic’s mouth kicked up into his half-smile, and he reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “You smell like a dead rat rotting in a pile of trash.”
I shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge.
“I’ll make breakfast while you take a shower. The Bard’ll be back soon.”
He stepped away, but I stayed pressed against the metal bars.
When he turned to see why I wasn’t following, I asked, “Can I trust you?”
His mouth formed the loose, carefree smile that hid everything Luvic was. “Right now, I’d place a bet I’m the only one you can trust. Remember my friend? She trusted the wrong people. She got herself killed. Don’t do that. Okay?”
