Chapter 2 - Absolute Zero

 
   Mar woke up on his floor, cold down to his marrow. The light of a failing sunset was spilling through the window he did not have a bookshelf pushed in front of—he had slept through almost the entire day. Here on the floor? He was freezing cold, but oddly enough, felt none of the aversion to the temperature that he usually did. Why not? What had—
   Oh.
   Mar felt himself blush, and was very grateful to feel the heat warm his face.
   His clothes were…absent. He sat up to look for them and saw next to him, luminescent in the darkness of his little apartment, a lithe, pale, snowy body sprawled in the shadows like a cat in the sun.
   Mar gazed at Shirai, losing himself in the form of the man he now knew so well, and wanted so badly to know better still. Shirai’s long hair spilled like mist across the frozen whiteness of his skin, smooth as silk and cool as water—Mar could now personally attest to that. His eyes were closed, his head pillowed on one muscular arm, the lines of his shoulder leading down to gorgeously sculpted pectorals tipped with alabaster nipples. Mar remembered with wonderful clarity the shock he had felt when he had pulled Shirai’s robe off his shoulders, and seen the impossible whiteness of his nipples.
   Utter shame had crossed Shirai’s face. “I…my body is not…it repulses you…?”
   Mar had had to laugh. “Oh my God, no. Never. No. Shirai, you are the most exotically sexy guy I could possibly dream of. You are…”
   Words had failed Mar at that point. But actions hadn’t.
   As though sensing Mar’s eyes on him, Shirai moved, an odd, squirming kind of motion. He moved first one way—then another—and then with startling suddenness, he jerked awake.
   “Whe—I—wha—?!”
   Mar blinked. Shirai was staring at him like he had never seen him or anything like him before. Before Mar had time to get worried, however, recognition dawned in Shirai’s eyes.
   “Mar…?”
   “Yes,” Mar ventured.
   “I…” Shirai shook his head, pushing himself up to sit on his feet, “What’s going on?”
   “I…we…” Mar felt his blush rising, but also his worry. “Last night, we…”
   “But after that, we—that is, I—” Shirai shook his head again, hair swinging across his chest. “I was in a strange place, with many strange buildings and people…”
   “Strange—? You mean, a dream?” Mar hazarded.
   “A dream?” Shirai repeated.
   “Yes, a—” Mar stopped. “Do you know what a dream is?”
   “Yes, I know the meaning, but…” Shirai blinked. “Snow spirits do not—”
   He stopped abruptly, his face falling deathly still. Mar wanted to finish the sentence, but had a feeling he shouldn’t. An intense battle was raging in Shirai’s frozen expression.
   “Snow spirits do not dream,” Shirai continued, his voice quiet, wondering. “Snow spirits do not feel pain. Snow spirits do not lie with humans.” He shook his head a third time. “Snow spirits do not want humans.” He looked up at Mar, his eyes a blizzard of conflicting thoughts and feelings. “Snow spirits do not want[/i].”
   “Not even each other?” Mar asked.
   Shirai shook his head yet again, but this time slowly. “No. I have not ever…not once…what we did last night…”
   As though Mar hadn’t already seen enough things to blow his mind, he now saw perhaps the most unbelievable of all: Shirai blushed[/i]. A deep sky-blue tint tinged his skin from his collarbones up, cooling the air so much that even Mar could feel it. Shirai raised his hand to touch his cheek, looking as astounded as Mar felt—and Mar noticed something else.
   “Your wrist—”
   Shirai looked at it, and rotated it. Then he raised his other wrist, and did the same. Then he stared at both of them.
   “I broke it, did I not?” Shirai asked, his voice filled with wonder. “Last night. Catching us from the fall.”
   “Yes,” Mar said, feeling very much out of his league. “I thought you needed to freeze it?”
   “I should have needed to,” Shirai said, sounding just as mystified as Mar. “I was so hot last night—hotter than I have ever been—my heart was hurting me, pulsing through my body, making me so hot—I should have melted. Certainly my wrist should not have set so fast. Not even in our lands of the north should my wrist have set this fast…”
   Shirai suddenly seemed to realize what he had said. He grabbed at his bare chest with both hands.
   “Shirai?!” Mar asked, alarmed.
   “It doesn’t hurt!” Shirai exclaimed, shocked. “I’m not melting—I’m not even warm! It does not hurt![/i]”
   Mar blinked. “Really?”
   “I don’t understand!” Shirai ran his hands over his body, as though assuring himself that he wasn’t evaporating away as he spoke. “Our hearts—our emotions—are supposed to melt us! But now—I’m feeling more emotion than ever I have—and I’m—”
   Mar was thinking hard, putting two and two together and trying with all his might to get four. Finally, it seemed to click. The germ of an idea blossomed in his mind.
   “Shirai,” Mar said, getting Shirai’s attention—then he darted forward and pressed his mouth against the cool, pearly skin just beneath the snow spirit’s navel.
   Shirai yelped and jumped, his face once again turning sky-blue. “Mar!!”
   Mar pushed himself up directly in front of Shirai, and touched his fingers to Shirai’s cheek. The cold radiating from the sky-blue blush was cold enough to burn.
   “Shirai,” Mar said, “I think I know why your wrist set so fast.”
 
*     *     *
 
   Deja vu,[/i] Mar thought suddenly.
   Once again he was sitting at his dwarf-sized coffee table, bathed in the faint glow of the ceiling light and wrapped in every length of unblackberried cloth he owned, hands thawing gradually around a glass of steaming hot tea, looking across the little tabletop at a man who he now knew wasn’t[/i] human, who was sitting cross-legged in front of the broken window in a sleeveless robe, not even shivering as wisps of cold gusted in around the bookshelf still standing between the window and the rest of the apartment.
   Except this time, he knew the man—knew the man very intimately. And the idea that he was not human was no longer a barrier, or even a consideration. He was Mar’s very first lover. That was all that mattered.
   Lover.[/i]
   Mar turned the word over in his mind, savoring it like the tea steaming in his glass. Savoring it…but at the same time thinking about it.
   Was “lover” all he wanted Shirai to be?
   Shirai waited until Mar had swallowed the tea in his mouth. Then he leaned across the coffee table, his eyes reflecting blurs of color with intense focus. “You said you had an idea of why my wrist set.”
   “Yes,” Mar acquiesced, dragging his mind back to the more urgent problems at hand. His personal life could wait. “Your face was even colder than usual when you blushed.”
   “Yes,” Shirai agreed.
   “Well, here’s my thought—and I don’t understand snow spirit body chemistry or anything, so correct me if I’m wrong anywhere. It seems like your blood is some kind of supercooled liquid.”
   “Some kind of what?”
   Mar silently thanked God that he was majoring in chemistry.  “Supercooled liquid. It’s a liquid that’s been brought down below its freezing temperature, but hasn’t been allowed to freeze. So your blood should be frozen, but isn’t—maybe because it’s moving, or maybe just because you’re a snow spirit or something. So it’s really[/i] cold.”
   “All right,” Shirai said, frowning slightly.
   “All right. Supercooled blood. Now, for humans, when we blush, blood gets concentrated in our face. Our blood is hot. It warms us up. For you, your blood is cold. It cools you down. Essentially, things that would make me hot make you cold, because of your blood.”
   “All right…” Shirai said again.
   “So. When I blush, it’s hot. When you blush, it’s cold. When I…um…” Mar fit his description, and blushed. “Last night made me hot, all over. My circulation sped up and my blood pumped faster, making me hot. Now, if it did the same thing to you, and your blood pumped faster—”
   “I would become cold,” Shirai finished, his eyes lighting with comprehension. “And I was. Last night made me so cold…” Shirai snapped his fingers. “That’s it, isn’t it! You made me so cold that I froze all over again!”
   “Good,” Mar said, relieved. “That was what I was thinking, so if you got that same conclusion too, maybe it’s not as weird as it sounds.”
   “There’s one problem, though, Mar,” Shirai said.
   “What?”
   “Our queen.” Shirai spread his hands. “I swear to you, I was there, Mar. Her emotions melted her in a heartbeat when her human love rejected her—”
   Oh, crap. That’s right. That doesn’t make sense. If she melted, why did Shirai—[/i]
   Melted. Rejected. Depression. Shirai, last night. If they get cold when we get hot—[/i]
   That’s it!!![/i]
   “Shirai!!” Mar expostulated. “I’ve got it!!”
   Shirai stopped midsentence. “You do?”
   “It’s so simple!” Mar jumped to his knees, slamming his palms down on the table. “When we get excited or happy, we feel warm. If you get excited or happy, you feel cold. But if we get depressed, or sad, then we[/i] feel cold. So if you[/i] feel depressed or sad—”
   “We feel hot?” Shirai hazarded.
   “Exactly! It makes perfect sense! Depression makes our blood slow down, and we start cooling down. Depression would make your[/i] blood slow down, so the heat from the outside would start melting you! Just like last night!”
   “Last night?” Shirai nodded, half-convinced. “That’s true. I was feeling…the words are…grieved? Depressed? And I was[/i] melting. But our queen—in the north, where it’s so much cooler, could she really have melted so—?”
   “If her love rejected her, and she really really loved him, then she might have become so depressed that her blood just slowed to a snail’s pace. If you need to be supercooled, I think almost any air here on Earth would be too hot for you if you weren’t. You weren’t as depressed as she was, so even though it’s warmer here, you didn’t melt as fast. That’s it! I’m certain of it!”
   Now[/i] Shirai looked convinced. More than convinced—jubilant. “That is[/i] it! I think you’re right—I really think you’re right!”
   “Then it’s not really your hearts that are your greatest enemies,” Mar said. “It’s depression. Inaction. Sadness and grief. And that’s the same for us, too—a lot of times, if people really love each other and one of them dies, the other one will die of heartbreak. That’s the problem. That’s what it is!” Mar paused, the enormity of the revelation breaking over him. “Shirai, you know what that means?”
   “What?”
   “You don’t need the Snowheart anymore.[/i] You don’t have to keep your hearts vulnerable—you just have to help each other through your sadness. Not only can you save your hearts from the luck spirit this time, you can save them from anybody who would ever attack them ever again—and[/i] stop the tragedy that killed your queen from ever happening again in the bargain!”
   If somebody had told Mar twenty-four hours ago that he would say something that would make Shirai’s jaw hit the floor, he would have laughed in their face.
   “You’re right!” Shirai exclaimed. “By the God and the Goddess as one…you’re right! Mar, you are brilliant[/i]!”
   Mar blushed. “Well…I mean, don’t thank me yet. We still have to get that luck spirit, or we won’t have any hearts to do this with.”
   The atmosphere in the room changed to deadly seriousness. Shirai’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, don’t worry. We will. I am not letting him get away with what he’s done to us—and you.”
   For some reason, that made Mar feel very warm inside. But he did his best to ignore that. “Okay. So, do I act as decoy again, or…?”
   “No,” Shirai said, becoming more like the Shirai Mar had known before the luck spirit had stabbed him with his heart. “He will not be coming back to bother you again—he knows you are with me, and will not risk walking into another trap to deposit magic in you. He will use his other depositories instead, which means we must find one of them and lay our trap for him there.”
   “So, we find another of his depositories, and then you…?”
   “Not me,” Shirai corrected. “It will be up to you, Mar, to get the Snowheart.”
   Mar lost his train of thought. “I…what[/i]?”
 
*     *     *
 
   Shirai refused to explain himself further until they were in Mar’s car, Mar following the directions supplied by Shirai as the snow spirit focused on homing in on the nearest depository. Between directions, Shirai explained his plan.
   “I can’t sense that luck spirit until he’s quite close, but the same holds for him—he cannot sense me unless he is very close as well. You, as a human, he cannot sense at all—or at least, he won’t be able to once I take the deposit out of you again. Left here.”
   Mar turned. “Okay, so he can’t sense me…”
   “Yes. That means that if you stay with the depository and wait for him to arrive, you will know he is there before he knows that you are. Those ridiculous bells he was wearing should alert you. I will stay nearby, but far enough away that he cannot sense me. Left again.”
   “Wait. If you’re far enough away that he can’t sense you, how will you know where he[/i] is?”
   “I won’t know where he[/i] is. I will sense the Snowheart. My power is still a part of it; I can sense it from quite some distance. Once I feel it, I will hide, and you will wait. Once you see him, it is up to you to steal the Snowheart.”
   “To do what[/i]?”
   “Once—right here—once I take the deposit out of you, you will no longer feel like a depository. He won’t know you for the same human he almost killed yesterday unless he pays exquisitely close attention, and even then it’s unlikely. Thus, you should be able to surprise him and steal the Snowheart. Keep going straight.”
   “What good will taking the Snowheart do? For that matter, how do you know he’s gonna have it? I mean, why would he carry it around with him?”
   “He needs[/i] to carry it around with him,” Shirai explained. “He needs it with him if he intends to deposit its leftovers somewhere. It was with him last night, in a pouch at his waist. Didn’t you see it?”
   “Um…”
   “I suppose if you couldn’t sense it, you probably wouldn’t notice it,” Shirai said apologetically. “But at any rate, he will[/i] have it. And if you can take it, then he will no longer be able to use its power to augment his own. In a fair fight, without the Snowheart, I am far stronger than he. Once I feel the aura of the Snowheart pass over to you, I will strike.”
   Mar slowed to a stop in front of a red light. “You can feel who’s holding it?”
   Ice-cold lips pressed lightly against Mar’s skin, just beneath his ear. Mar froze, delicious shivers dancing down his spine, and almost missed it as the light changed back to green.
   “No,” Shirai admitted in a whisper, his breath so cold against Mar’s neck. “But I will know when you hold it, Mar. Believe me.”
   Before Mar could think of a reply to this, Shirai brought himself back up in his seat and looked ahead again. “Right, and then left, and another right. These ‘streets’ are so convoluted…”
   The directions struck a chord in Mar’s mind. “Wait…right, left, right?”
   “Yes, I believe so. Why?”
   “That’s the way to my girlfriend’s house.” Mar listened to his own words, and snorted. “My girlfriend…yeah, I say that now. We got together about a week ago, went out exactly three times, and broke up. She didn’t really like me, and I…” He had to smile, now that he knew how stupid he had been. “I should have realized I couldn’t make it with a girl, and just left her alone. But I think I was in denial, from about eighth grade until I saw you.”
   Shirai looked very confused. “Girlfriend? Is not ‘girlfriend’ a very close relationship?” His face clouded. “Are you…and this girl…?”
   “Oh, God, no!” Mar said hastily. For some reason it hadn’t occurred to him that Shirai could still have the kind of mood swings he had been suffering from last night. “ ‘Girlfriend’ is just like a close friend you’re thinking[/i] about having a close relationship with. At least, it’s supposed to be. And we did not[/i] want a close relationship with each other.”
   “Then why was she your girlfriend?”
   Mar frowned. “I…”
   Now that he thought about it, that was a better question than it seemed. Why had[/i] he and Ashley gotten together? What did they have in common? Precious little, other than the fact that they both liked to read. What had he seen in her? Nothing, actually—she was smart and nice, but so were a lot of other girls he knew. There had been no reason for him to ask her out. What had she[/i] seen in him[/i]? Nothing, or so she had said most vehemently when she broke up with him.
   “I actually don’t know,” Mar said slowly. “Just about a week ago, I just kind of…felt like I should get closer to her. Something inexplicable. And I think she felt the same way, because she was really eager to go out with me. But once we did, I think we realized there was no point—there wasn’t actually anything about us that we really—”
   “Oh yes there was,” Shirai interrupted, his confusion suddenly turned to steel. “Go to her house.”
   “What? Why?”
   “This girl is the depository I am sensing.”
   Obviously Mar hadn’t become quite as jaded to surprises as he had thought. “What?![/i]”
   “Like attracts like. The magic in you attracted you to her, and the reverse. That was the feeling between the two of you.”
   “Ashley[/i] is another depository?!”
   “Precisely. It explains everything you have said so far: your inexplicable feelings, her unusual eagerness to be close to you, the fact that we are heading towards her house at this moment.” Shirai paused, then went faintly blue. “I…must confess…I am relieved. I…find the idea of sharing you with another…difficult to accept.”
   Mar wanted to protest some more, but found that after that, he really couldn’t.
 
*     *     *
 
   Ashley lived in an apartment rather closer to college than Mar’s, and rather more expensive because of the fact. Where Mar’s apartment was a tiny, four-room affair with one bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchen, and a living room (the last two only separated by the sink counter, not actual walls,) Ashley’s was almost twice the size, a comfortable cube of rooms with everything Mar’s apartment had and more.
   She answered the door before the second knock; a pretty, petite girl with golden-brown hair and big blue eyes. When she saw who it was standing on the welcome mat, she let out her breath in an irritated sigh.
   “Mar, what are you doing he—?”
   Then she saw Shirai.
   Shirai’s hair alone would have been enough to astound Ashley. Mar had seen her mutter darkly under her breath at the sight of men with shoulder-length hair alone, and Shirai’s was down to his thighs, to say nothing of its impossible translucence. Combine that with his ivory-white skin, his pure white nails, and his bare feet, and Ashley was without words; add his outlandish white robe, his inhuman reflecting eyes, and the breath twinkling out of his mouth as ice crystals, and Ashley nearly had a heart attack.
   “You are Ashley,” Shirai said bluntly. “We have much to discuss and far less time than I had with Mar to discuss it in. You must accept right now that I am a snow spirit and that you are being victimized by a luck spirit before we go any farther.”
   Ashley opened her mouth and closed it again, clearly unable to reply to this. Mar suddenly remembered that Ashley was a devoted Christian, and could almost have laughed as he saw every belief she swore by shaken to its foundation.
   Mar squeezed around Ashley into her apartment, and Ashley stepped back, allowing Shirai to enter as well. She closed to door without looking at it, her eyes fixed on Shirai.
   “Mar,” Ashley said unsteadily, “who is this[/i]?”
   “Just like he said,” Mar said. “His name is Shirai, and he is a snow spirit.”
   Ashley shook her head uneasily, although her eyes still never left Shirai. “No. That’s impossible. Mar, you can’t possibly—”
   “Ashley,” Mar said gently, “he is a snow spirit.[/i]”
   “I am,” Shirai said, very calmly. “And in a very short time, we are expecting a luck spirit to come here, in an attempt to leave within you a certain deposit of luck magic—”
   “Magic?![/i]” Ashley’s voice rose. “Magic doesn’t exist!”
   “Yes, it does, actually,” Mar said, rather enjoying this. “There was a bunch of it in you and a bunch of it in me because this luck spirit—”
   “Mar, you have lost your mind! You and this man both!”[color=] Ashley's shoulders had risen like the hackles of a wolf backed into a corner, and her eyes were set in the look that meant that she hadn’t taken in a word that had been said to her and wasn’t going to until the sky fell in. Even as she spoke she whirled around and went for the phone.[/color] “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but I’m calling the police!”
   Oh, crap. Why can’t she just [/i]listen for once in her damn life?![/i] “Ashley, don’t do that until we explain every—”[/i]
   A solid shell of ice encased the phone completely, freezing it to the wall. Ashley jumped, and let out a little scream.
   “I cannot let you do something as foolish as I believe that would have been until we have you understanding the entire situation,” Shirai said, still as calm as though Ashley was agreeing with his every word. “I believe you have been having bad luck lately?”
   “What does that have to do with—?!”
   “I think you can pretty safely take that as a yes, Shirai,” Mar contributed.
   “Then we were correct in our thinking,” Shirai said.
   “What thinking?! What are you talking about, magic in me and Mar—?!”
   Shirai suddenly snapped his fingers. “That’s right. I almost forgot. Mar, I need to take back that luck deposit.”
   And with no more warning than that, he put one arm around Mar’s waist and the other around his shoulders, and kissed him deeply on the mouth.
   Ashley screamed louder than Mar had ever heard her before, but he didn’t have time to concentrate on her. The familiar cold slid down his throat, and this time, perhaps because he wasn’t so stunned by the cold itself, Mar actually felt[/i] it wrap around something inside of him—something hidden deep inside of him—drawing it together and up and out—
   Then the cold was gone, and the hateful little ball of luck-metal bounced off Mar’s teeth over Shirai’s. Shirai drew slightly back, then changed his mind, reached out again, and placed another soft kiss on Mar’s lips, sweet and cold as a snowdrop. Mar had to smile.
   Ashley wasn’t smiling, Mar saw as Shirai let go. She was turned firmly away, sounding like she was trying not to throw up. Shirai spat out the ball of luck-magic into his hand, strode up to Ashley, and touched her shoulder. She whirled as though she intended to strike him, but froze as he held up the ball of metal for her examination.
   “This was inside of Mar, and there is another inside of you,” Shirai said gravely. “It was placed there by a luck spirit, and has been the source of countless unlucky events in Mar’s life over the last few days, once it grew large enough to exert its influence upon him. That luck spirit will be coming here soon to drop more of his power into you, for he dares not use Mar any longer now that he knows I am with him, and he has no time to search out another depository when he used so much magic the last time I encountered him. Mar and I are going to—”
   Shirai stiffened all at once. “He’s coming. I feel it.”
   Ashley clearly had a few things to say to all this—enough that she looked as though she were choking on them. Shirai paid her no mind, but instead turned to Mar. “Grab the Snowheart, and I will be here. If you need me before you can grab the Snowheart, get outside of this building. If you are in open air, I will feel you and I will come regardless of the Snowheart.” He hesitated. “This does not seem appropriate…but Mar, I value your safety above the Snowheart. I will have another chance at the Snowheart—I will not have another you.”
   Impulsively, Mar ran to Shirai and kissed him quickly, almost violently.
   “For luck,” he muttered, pulling away. “Both yours and mine.”
   Shirai smiled, and passed one last kiss between them. “Then we need more than one.”
   Then Shirai closed his eyes in concentration—there was a freezing wave of cold that hit both Mar and Ashley like a hammer and left ice on the carpet—and a huge white bird leapt up onto Ashley’s open windowsill, and took flight out into the air.
 
 
   Mar was still staring out the window, wondering where it was that Shirai was going, when Ashley’s voice exploded in on his thoughts like dynamite.
   “What is going on here?!”
   Mar turned, almost dreamily, and looked at his ex-girlfriend. Ashley’s face was beet-red, and she looked like she wanted to punch something into nonexistence. She also looked like she thought Mar would be a good candidate for the punching.
   “You tell me what’s going on right this minute, Mar Roy, or I swear to you—”
   “Shirai already told you what’s going on here, Ashley,” Mar said, almost having to force himself to concentrate on the matter at hand. “We’re trying to catch a luck spirit. He’s coming this way right now, to try and put more magic into you.” Mar paused, realizing something. “Oops—you’d better pretend to be asleep. I don’t think he tries it unless you’re asleep.”
   “Asleep? Asleep?! You think I’m going to pretend to be asleep?!” Ashley was turning redder than was healthy. “You barge in here without my permission, without even calling, feed me some cock-and-bull story about snow and luck spirits and magic, and—”
   “If it’s cock-and-bull, then how did Shirai turn into a bird and go out that window?” Mar asked reasonably, waving at the window in question. “How did he freeze the phone?”
   “I don’t know what he’s doing or what he’s told you, but it’s obviously all a lie. A trick. He’s deceiving you, Mar! Taking advantage of you!”
   Now that, Mar took umbrage at. “Shirai is not taking advantage of me, Ashley.”
   “Oh no?!” Ashley retorted. “Look at what he’s done to you already!”
   “Done to me? What has he done to me?” Mar folded his arms. “What, his kissing me?”
   Ashley winced. The very idea offended her Christian sensibilities. “He’s got you good as brainwashed, Mar! You obviously believe everything he says, and when he walks up and does stuff like that to you, you just stand there with this big stupid grin on your face, like—”
   “I believe what he says because he’s right[/i]!” Mar yelled, finally incensed. “He is[/i] a snow spirit, and that metal ball is[/i] what’s causing our bad luck, and there is[/i] a luck spirit, whom I am[/i] going to help him take out! And believe it or not, Ashley, I like it when he kisses me all[/i] on my own! I don’t need brainwashing to enjoy something like that!”
   “He’s not a snow spirit, Mar!” Ashley shouted, swinging her fists in furious exasperation. “Don’t you get it?! He’s some kind of pervert who’s deluding you with that story and…and probably dancing around with glee inside that he can do things like that to you and get away with it! He’s—”
   “For the last time, he is not[/i] taking advantage of me, Ashley!” Mar wanted to hit her. “Kissing is nothing—I slept[/i] with him last night! And it was my[/i] idea!”
   Ashley now really[/i] looked like she wanted to throw up. “You’re both guys[/i], Mar!”
   “I don’t care!![/i]” Mar’s hands balled into fists. “I don’t care if he was a cat, Ashley, I love him!![/i]”
   Something about his voice stopped Ashley dead in her tracks.
   “He’s cool and smart and distant and weird and strong and vulnerable and gorgeous and helpless and he needs me,” Mar said, feeling the truth of every word as he said it. “He’s a total mystery and at the same time I think I know him better than he knows himself now. He’s lived without a heart or emotions for centuries and now he’s got them back and he doesn’t understand or control any of them and he lets them out to me. Me[/i]. I’m a cookie-cutter college student with no recognizable future—” Mar stopped, realizing something. “But I don’t need one with him, because he can be[/i] my future. I love him, Ashley! I love him! And that’s more than I’ll ever be able to say about you!”
   Ashley was staring at him, mouth agape.
   “I love him,” Mar repeated softly. “So take your ramrod-Christian beliefs and shove them where the sun don’t shine. I could never have any feelings for you; for any woman. I love him[/i].”
   “Beautiful,” sighed a voice.
   Mar whirled. Ashley screamed.
   The luck spirit was standing on the ceiling.
 
 
   “I’m not sure whether to congratulate you, thank you, or feel very sorry for you,” the luck spirit said, standing perfectly nonchalantly there on the ceiling.
   Ashley seemed glued by shock. Shirai, she had been able to deal with. This luck spirit, though, was not even temporarily mistakable as human. With skin greener than any makeup could have achieved, eyes a glowing amber shade that no contacts could have produced, and hair that no dye could possibly have made look like the rainbow spray off a waterfall, the luck spirit looked[/i] like what he was—a luck spirit. And Ashley could not—would[/i] not—deal with that.
   Mar, however, had no choice about dealing with this spirit even if he had wanted one.
   “What for?” he demanded.
   “Well, congratulate you, of course,” the luck spirit said, walking casually towards Mar across the ceiling in a way disconcertingly similar to an overlarge emerald spider, “for managing to get that snow spirit into your bed. Some spirits, they’re easy. Water spirits particularly. They’ll protest, but they’ll never do anything more than that—where do you think mermaid legends came from? Luck spirits, like me—for somebody as good-looking as you, we’ll lie with you in a heartbeat. Turn on you in the next, but I’m sure you figured that out already.”
   “Think I guessed that, yeah,” Mar said coolly.
   “Snow spirits, though,” the luck spirit chuckled quietly, “are impossible. No emotions, no lust, no desire to lie with anyone, even each other. So your managing to bed one? Impressive. Extremely impressive. Even if you had my help with it.”
   Mar wished he had something huge, blunt, and heavy right at this moment. “You almost killed him.”
   “But I have to thank you, as well,” the luck spirit continued, as though Mar hadn’t spoken. “Because if you hadn’t[/i] been with him, you wouldn’t reek of his magic. And if you didn’t reek of snow-magic, I would never have recognized you as the human I dropped off the side of the building the other night.”
   Mar stiffened. Crap![/i]
   “So…the congratulations, and the thanks,” the luck spirit said, still moving towards Mar, one leisurely step at a time. “But at the same time, my deepest apologies.”
   “What the hell for?” Mar snarled.
   The luck spirit leapt up (?) and flipped in midair, landing right in front of Mar with a jingle of bells and no other sound. No human could land so lightly. From behind Mar, Ashley let out a squeak.
   “Apologies,” the luck spirit breathed, “that your bedtime was wasted with such a cold…”
   One slim green finger traced Mar’s collarbone.
   “…harsh…”
   His finger traced down the front of Mar’s shirt.
   “…inexperienced…”
   His thumb rubbed lightly across Mar’s belt buckle.
   “…lover.”
   Mar couldn’t believe it. The luck spirit was trying to seduce him.
   Actually, he supposed it made sense. The luck spirit knew that Mar was Shirai’s ally, and if he knew anything about human males at all, he must know that the easiest way to have your way with one is to make them want their way with you. If Mar could be inveigled into switching sides, that would give the luck spirit the advantage of both the Snowheart and a human assistant Shirai wouldn’t be expecting an attack from, while Shirai would have only the disadvantage of the uncontrolled emotions of his heart.
   But that wasn’t the real reason Mar couldn’t believe the luck spirit was trying to seduce him. The main reason was the fact that this close, the pouch—the pouch Shirai had mentioned, the one he claimed held the Snowheart, the one Mar was trying to steal—was in plain view at the luck spirit’s waist. Barely more than a hand’s breadth away.
   Surely not. It was too easy. If Mar played along with the seduction for just a minute—less than a minute, even—that pouch could be in his hand. But that was too easy! This luck spirit couldn’t possibly be dumb enough to fall for something like that!
   But what if he was?
   The luck spirit was only centimeters away from Mar now, and Mar made a split-second decision. It didn’t matter if the luck spirit was trying to trick him or not. If the spirit really was dumb enough to do this, then this was Mar’s chance. If he wasn’t, possibly by making him think that Mar was could make[/i] a chance. With the spirit already this close, there was really no other option.
   Mar spared a brief, almost apologetic thought towards Ashley—he was still ticked about her aversion to the truth about him and Shirai, but she didn’t really deserve to have two men start making out in her living room—before the luck spirit pressed their lips together.
   The luck spirit was[/i] experienced. Mar had to admit that as soon as their lips touched. Every movement he made was sweet, sensuous, and leisurely, drawing out every feeling into a symphony of sensations that rippled inside of Mar’s skin. Experienced, yes. But experience could only count for so much.
   There was no passion in the luck spirit’s kiss. It was[/i] a symphony, and the luck spirit was conducting, leading Mar along on the notes he himself chose and played. Shirai did not play, or stay distant in the moment of intimacy—Shirai was there[/i], fierce and cold and uncontrolled, his breath sharp with the scent of the morning dew that freezes in the cold, the rose growing in the middle of a snowdrift, the snowflakes that spin in the pure cold air of the north. The luck spirit smelled of clover and honey and sunlight, and it made Mar want to gag.
   What truly separated the luck spirit from Shirai, however—something that Mar would never have guessed he would miss—was their body temperature. The luck spirit was warm, pliant, supple, as slender and caressing as a breeze; his fingers slipped underneath Mar’s shirt and brushed across his stomach like tickling blades of grass. It was nothing like having Shirai touch him. Shirai’s fingers traced cold across Mar’s entire body, forcing his circulation to rise until his blood felt steaming inside his chilled skin, heat on top of passion until even the lightest touch made his entire skin vibrate.
   That[/i], no amount of experience could reproduce.
   Mar kept his mind on the polar coldness of Shirai’s fingers and flung himself into the seduction with abandon, crushing the luck spirit closer to him, wishing he could snap him like the twig he seemed to be. The luck spirit pulled Mar’s shirt off over his head, green hands leaves in a breeze that swirled around Mar until he wanted to scream with irritation. He rubbed his hands up underneath the luck spirit’s shirt of bells and listened to them ring, trying to ignore the infernal tickling across his back and ribs.
   Behind them, Ashley was silent, revolted into speechlessness by a spectacle she couldn’t tear her eyes away from. The luck spirit was speaking, murmuring softness against Mar’s mouth, his throat, but Mar wasn’t listening. The pouch was close. Very close.
   Mar brought his hands down out of the luck spirit’s shirt and slid them down the spirit’s bell-clad hips, interested despite himself to find that there was nothing underneath the bells. The luck spirit’s whispers were white noise in his ears—he was so close—he brought his hands back up along the inside of the spirit’s thighs, hearing a quiet moan merge with the jingling of a score of sliding bells—and—
   Mar linked his hands together and slammed them up between the luck spirit’s legs, then grabbed for the pouch.
   A slender green hand seized his thieving hand in a grip like a vice and crushed down hard, making the bones in Mar’s wrist creak alarmingly. Mar yelped, and looked up from his captured hand to meet the luck spirit’s amber gaze. He hadn’t so much as flinched.
   “Sometimes,” the luck spirit said casually, “it is useful to be able to change one’s form.”
   Mar jerked himself back, trying to break away, but the luck spirit’s fingers only tightened, and Mar had to gasp with the pain.
   “I was beginning to hope I was making an impact on you,” the luck spirit sighed, as though to himself. “But it seems I can’t trust you after all.”
   “Like I could ever trust you[/i]!” Mar spat, cursing himself. It had[/i] been a trap. And he had walked right into it.
   “Well, you could have trusted me not to kill you,” the luck spirit said. “Up until you proved I couldn’t expect the same from you.” He twisted Mar’s wrist around behind his back, bringing Mar down to his knees, and forced his head up with one bell-clad knee of his own. “Now, of course, I am[/i] going to have to kill you.”
   Mar went cold.
   The luck spirit raised one rainbow eyebrow. “Oh, don’t look so worried yet. There are formalities to observe, you know.”
   “Formalities? For killing[/i] me?”
   The luck spirit sighed. “All right, there aren’t really any formalities. But what fun is it to rape you unless I can claim it was only duty on my part after the fact?”
   Mar lost coherent speech. “I—you—rape[/i]—?”
   “What better way to make sure that that damned snow spirit’s last moments in this world are a living hell than raping the man he’s obviously in love with?” the luck spirit asked rhetorically.
   With no warning whatsoever, the luck spirit abruptly twisted Mar’s wrist to the side. There was a moment of pain—then a sharp crack[/i]—then a burning, immolating burst of pain that devoured Mar’s arm whole and refused to let it go. Mar had to bite back a scream.
   The luck spirit let go of Mar’s broken wrist and kicked him down onto his back, pressing his bare foot down on Mar’s stomach. He leaned forward along the line of his golden trousers, and smiled into Mar’s face—but Mar, nearly blinded by the pain of falling onto his wrist, didn’t see it.
   “It’s easier to hold you down if you don’t have both arms,” the luck spirit commented, and he reached down and unzipped Mar’s jeans.
   When a lamp smashed into the side of his face at a rather high velocity.
   Mar didn’t realize the lamp had hit the spirit until the foot disappeared from his sternum, allowing him to curl up into a fetal position around his broken wrist—which he did, immediately. Only sheer force of will allowed him to lift his head up and see what was going on.
   Ashley was advancing on the luck spirit, pelting him with every object she could reach—a book, a chair, an encyclopedia, a snow globe, a china plate, a shoe—and screaming at the top of her lungs.
   “YOU BARGE INTO MY HOME, BREAK MY FRIEND’S WRIST, TRY TO RAPE HIM, AND EXPECT ME TO JUST STAND BY AND LET IT HAPPEN?! GUESS WHAT, PSYCHO PERV, YOU’VE GOT ANOTHER THINK COMING! I DON’T CARE WHAT’S GOING ON OR WHAT YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING, THIS IS MY APARTMENT AND I WON’T ALLOW IT! NOW GET OUT NOW[/b]!!!”
   Unfortunately for Ashley, her first projectile had only done its job because the luck spirit had not been prepared for it. As Ashley finished throwing her shoe and grabbed for a pillow, the luck spirit moved at the speed of light to a position right in front of her face. Pillow in hand, Ashley swung it like a sword, but the luck spirit was far too quick. He ducked underneath her swing and came up with his hand streaking for her throat. Before Ashley knew what was happening, the spirit’s palm connected hard with her esophagus and knocked her flying to the floor, where she struggled helplessly for air.
   “And here I thought that because you remained quiet while I tried my best to seduce him, you would stay that way,” the luck spirit said coolly, watching Ashley writhe like a beached blue fish. “Clearly, I must eliminate you before I can finish tormenting—”
   Mar bulled into the luck spirit at the knees, knocking him to the ground. The luck spirit’s head cracked heavily against the table, and for a moment—an inhumanly short moment—he was stunned. Only a moment. But that moment was enough.
   Mar seized the pouch and ripped it off the luck spirit’s belled trousers.
   Something white exploded in through the window, something pearly and incandescent that brought the North Pole with it. And out of the whiteness Shirai fell like a meteor, holding an icicle like a massive sword—a great wind lifted everything in the room, including Ashley, and threw it about like peas in a rattle—freezing, radiating cold burned the side of Mar’s face and all down his bare chest, every bell of the luck spirit’s trousers freezing to his skin—and then the bells were gone, and the cold was gone, and there was only a huge icicle stabbed into the floor to show where the luck spirit had once been. And Shirai was crouched on the floor a safe distance from his icicle sword, holding Mar in his arms.
 
 
   “Shirai,” Mar whispered, his voice unsteady and quivering, “Shirai…he was going to…”
   “He’s dead,” Shirai murmured, his body filling Mar’s with familiar, almost comforting cold. “You got the Snowheart, and I could kill him.”
   Mar looked vaguely down at his uninjured hand, in which he was still clutching the pouch, and felt—even above everything else—relief. The utmost relief. He had succeeded. He was safe.
   “He’s dead,” Shirai repeated, stroking Mar’s back with one hand.
   A howl built up inside of Mar’s chest, ricocheting and building with the release that utter relief brings; and before he could stop it, it had torn itself out of his mouth, and he was sobbing into Shirai’s shoulder, releasing the pain of his broken wrist and the terror of his near-failure and the horror of his near-rape only now, now that he knew he was safe in the arms of the one he loved.
   Shirai held him. Just held him, letting him cry, until the tears he needed to shed were gone, wincing every so often but still holding him tightly and eternally. Mar finally wiped his eyes so that he could see again, and almost burst into tears all over again when he saw that the hot, salty water had melted trails down Shirai’s arm as sure as the tip of a hot poker. Except pulling away from him, trying to apologize, he also realized that those of his tears that had fallen on his own body had frozen solid, decorating him with little diamond droplets, and for some reason he had to laugh. And Shirai laughed as well, mirth warming Mar until the teardrops melted, mirth cooling Shirai until the tear-burned channels froze over.
   When Mar finally stopped laughing, guilt smote him at once as he thought of Ashley.
   Ashley had flown to the opposite side of the room with the force of the wind Shirai had brought in his entrance, and when she landed, lack of air had made her pass out. Now, however, she looked much better than she had when Mar had last seen her, struggling and blue from the luck spirit’s blow. She had begun to breathe again, and her face was back to its normal color. She looked like she was sleeping.
   “I should—” Mar said, rising to his feet, realizing only afterwards that he had no idea what it was he “should” do.
   Cool arms enfolded him again from behind, and a hand took his around his broken wrist. Ice froze around Mar’s skin, forming a thick makeshift cast like a bracelet of milky crystal.
   “You should dress yourself,” Shirai murmured into Mar’s hair. “I will take the luck deposit from her and remove the icicle—and then we should leave her. She is not as accepting as you—she would rather forget that this has happened than have us here to remind her of it when she awakens.”
  Mar flushed brightly and yanked up his jeans while Shirai went and touched the shimmering icicle in the floor, which drained away from itself back into Shirai, from where it had come. Mar’s shirt was MIA, thrown God only knew where by the wind Shirai had brought, but eventually he found it on top of the bookshelf, just as Shirai went over to Ashley and lowered his mouth to hers.
   Jealousy leapt like a flame in Mar’s chest. He turned his back on Shirai and Ashley, busying himself with getting it off the bookshelf, then taking more time to pull it over his head than was strictly necessary. Before he was finished, a snowflake of a kiss dropped on the small of his back.
   Mar jumped, whirling with a yelp to find Shirai staring at him with a very[/i] un-Shirai-ish look on his face.
   “Now,” he said softly, teasingly. “We have achieved our goal. We have retrieved the Snowheart. We have won the war. I believe it is time for a celebration.”
   Mar blinked. “I thought snow spirits didn’t eat.”
   “Not that kind of celebration,” Shirai clarified, leading Mar out the door. “The kind of celebration that most stringently requires returning to your apartment. More specifically, to your bed.”
   Mar brightened. “Oh. That[/i] kind of celebration.”
   “Yes, that[/i] kind.”
   “But didn’t we already have that kind of celebration?”
   Shirai scoffed. “That was not[/i] a celebration. That was a mere…prayer[/i] for the success of the events that would cause us to have a celebration.”
   “Then a celebration is…?”
   “Bigger. Much bigger.”
   Mar quirked an eyebrow. “How much bigger?”
 
*     *     *
 
   “So,” Mar sighed, rolling himself up in his blankets with his last reserves of energy. “That[/i] much bigger.”
   They had returned to Mar’s apartment, and they had celebrated until Mar felt numb all the way to his bone marrow. Completely satiated, utterly exhausted, and unsurpassably happy, Mar could feel himself drifting away into slumber by the moment.
   Shirai was lying next to him, iridescent in the darkness, head pillowed on his white arms. “You should have your wrist looked at tomorrow.”
   “Ooh, my wrist. Thanks for reminding me.” Mar pulled his arm out from the blankets and flopped it onto the mattress between them. “Better keep it cool, right?”
   “Yes,” Shirai said.
   There was a pause, and Mar yawned.
   “Mar,” Shirai said suddenly.
   “…’eees?” Mar said indistinctly through his yawn.
   “I have to leave.”
   Slumber vanished in an instant. Mar sat bolt upright. “What?”
   “I have to return to the north, to give back the Snowheart—and, more importantly, to tell the other snow spirits the truth. That we can take our hearts back; that it is grief that kills us, not emotion itself. I have to stop something like this from ever happening again.”
   “You—well, yeah, I mean, I know you—but you—” Mar didn’t want to plead, but it slipped out without his conscious consent. “You’ll come back, won’t you? Please? Someday?”
   “Yes,” Shirai said positively. “Of course. Once I have finished with the business of the Snowheart, and ensured that my clan is safe, I will come back. I couldn’t not.”
   Mar was silent for a moment. “When will you leave?”
   Shirai took a deep breath. “I…must go now. I cannot leave my clan without news, knowing that I have their hearts. And on the way back, I must find the other depositories and relieve them of their burdens—then find a safe place to dispel the magic myself. It is best if I go now.”
   Mar nodded. “I thought it probably would be. There’s just one thing. Before you go…”
   Shirai waited, his eyes black as the room around them.
   “Before you go,” Mar continued, not sure whether this was something he should ask or not, “can I see it? The Snowheart?”
   Hazel eyes stared into black. With every facet of Shirai’s reflective eyes mirroring the darkness around them, Mar couldn’t tell what the snow spirit was thinking—or even if he was insulted by the request.
   Shirai reached out and brushed Mar’s cheek with one hand, light as a breeze.
   “Of course.”
   Rising, lithe and bare as the air around him, Shirai glided across Mar’s floor to a table by the window, where he had thrown the pouch when they had entered the room hours ago. Mar stood up as well, shedding his blankets, and joined him, looking down at the pouch, illuminated by a bar of moonlight.
   Shirai picked up the pouch and handed it to Mar wordlessly. Mar undid the drawstring of the pouch, reached in…
   And pulled out the most fantastic crystal he had ever dreamed of seeing.
   Mar stared at it, captivated. It was large enough to fill the space of his cupped hands, perfectly spherical, clear as water, and covered with a hundred, no, a thousand, no, more, glittering, sparkling, shimmering facets. The moonlight touched every facet from a different angle and filled the entire crystal with glimmering flecks of light—the shadows touched every facet from another angle and shot through the light like clouds in a sunset. A million tiny rainbows breathed from the dance of light and dark, shooting out into the darkness, fluttering across the walls and the ceiling like a million colored snowflakes.
   “Oh, Shirai,” Mar whispered. “It’s…it’s…” Words failed him. “And you’re going to destroy it?”
   “It is beautiful,” Shirai said, watching the rainbows dance off the crystal with a distant look in his eyes, now glittering with the radiance of the Snowheart. “Very beautiful. But it is a prison. And no prison, no matter how beautiful, has the right to exist—to deny life the right to live.”
   Mar hesitated, then tipped the Snowheart back into its pouch.
   “I will see you soon,” Shirai whispered, embracing Mar fiercely, almost hungrily, pressing white skin against peach in the softness of the moonlight. “I promise.”
   The snow spirit took the pouch back from Mar, pulled out the drawstring, and hung it around his neck like a pendant. Then there was a blast of cold, and a bird like an overlarge, pure white falcon was standing there in Mar’s room.
   The bird hopped up onto Mar’s table, pouch held securely around its neck. Mar went to the window and yanked it open, and the bird took off, flying out the window and soaring away, into the darkness of the sky.
   Mar watched it wing away until it resembled only a faraway white star in the sky…then, until it was lost to sight.
 
*     *     *
 
   It was the day before the day that would mark the one-year anniversary of Shirai’s departure. Late night. Bright moonlight. Silence. Oppressive, depressive silence.
   Mar sat on the couch in the living room, sprawled across it in the boneless manner of tired young men, and stared at the moonlight falling across his floor. It was coming in through the window that had, at this time last year, been destroyed by burglars attracted through the power of a luck deposit. Yet another reminder that Shirai was gone, and that life had moved on.
   It hadn’t been conscious. For weeks—okay, months—Mar had been waiting for Shirai to come back. He was on tenterhooks every moment of every day, waiting to see a form as white and shining as snow in the sunlight. He had slept lightly every night, waiting for a tap on the window, or a burst of frozen air that would herald Shirai’s arrival. He had waited.
   And waited.
   Shirai had not returned.
   At first Mar had made excuses. The process of safely dismembering the Snowheart was just taking a while, that was all. Then he had become irritated—where the hell was he? Then denial—he couldn’t have forgotten me. He couldn’t have forgotten me.
   Goddammit, he forgot me!
   When that realization had finally hit, Mar had…well, gone and tried to date somebody else. A human; at least, he was pretty sure Joshua had been human. It was stupid and juvenile—Mar knew it—but worse, it was a failure. Joshua had been very nice and very good-looking, but he was not cold. He was not the winter snow given form. He was not Shirai.
   It hadn’t worked out. And Mar had gotten mad again. His relationship with Shirai had ruined him for a relationship with someone of his own race! And Shirai couldn’t be bothered to come back, even just to break up with him?!
   Now, though, Mar wasn’t sure what he felt or thought. The idea that Shirai had forgotten him was, if he could be so bold as to say it, impossible. He was irreversibly tied to the return of Shirai’s emotions and the understanding of the Snowheart, wasn’t he? He was sure he was. As long as Shirai had emotions and the memory of the Snowheart remained, he would remember Mar.
   So why was he not back?
   There was only one explanation. He had found someone else.
   Another snow spirit.
   Mar had to admit, he could understand that. He[/i] couldn’t even stand humans anymore, and he was[/i] one! Shirai was a snow spirit. He lived with God only knew how many others like him. Able to change shape. Able to become as beautiful as they desired. Able to freeze skin with one touch…
   Mar shivered at that memory still. Was it any wonder that Shirai hadn’t come back? No, of course not.
   “Are you cold?”
   Mar jumped five feet with a strangled yelp and whirled on the couch to see—Shirai.
   Shirai was there.
   He looked exactly the same as he had a year ago: rippling icy hair, frozen milk for skin, colorless eyes reflecting the room’s light and shadows and yet sparkling with a little light of their own. His body was as strong and pale as ever, hard and shapely beneath the folds of white robe, his nails still white like the frost that rimes windows in the early hours of the morning.
   Mar stared. He couldn’t believe it.
   “I’m glad I caught you awake,” Shirai said, his voice deep and soft, like a snowdrift from a childhood memory. “It has been so long since I last saw you…”
   Mar felt huge and clumsy and very, very stupid. Almost everything he had felt over the last near-a-year came back to haunt him in a single second. Shirai was here. He had not forgotten. He had not abandoned. And Mar had not trusted him. Had, in fact, gone behind his back with someone else. What do you say when a snow spirit returns for you after a year of waiting and you’ve cheated on him?
   Shirai strode up to the couch and threw himself on top of Mar, arms locking around his neck, hair falling across them both like a blanket. Mar yelped again, with surprise and shock and a cold he had forgotten the wonderful intense feeling of.
   It was as if Shirai had only left yesterday.
   “I’ve wanted to see you,” Shirai whispered into Mar’s collarbone. “I’ve wanted to see you so badly.”
   Mar hesitated only for an instant. Then all his insecurities were washed away in the loving need[/i] he felt from Shirai, the need for him to be here, to be Mar. He wrapped his own arms around Shirai in response, and felt tears come to his eyes.
   “I thought you forgot to come back,” Mar whispered into Shirai’s hair. “I thought…I thought there was another snow spirit…”
   “No, and there’s not likely to be,” Shirai said. He looked up into Mar’s face, and to Mar’s astonishment the mirrorlike eyes looked almost sheepish. “I…must confess, I was there for so long, I began to long for…companionship. But when I…tried…because yes, I tried…I could not enjoy it. They are so cold. All of them. I don’t want cold.” The sheepishness died away, transforming into an odd light. “I want warmth. Your[/i] warmth, Mar.”
   Mar let out half-laugh, half-sob. “Shirai—I tried too—I couldn’t help myself—I thought you weren’t coming back, and I tried—and I can’t enjoy it either, from humans. I want cold. This cold. Your[/i] cold.”
   Shirai seemed taken aback for a moment. Then he smiled—no, not smiled—beamed[/i].
   “I’m so glad. Because, you see, Mar, I have a proposition for you.”
   Mar frowned. “A what?”
   “The reason I was so long in the north was this,” Shirai explained. “The other snow spirits do not believe me. I cannot persuade them that it is safer to keep our hearts than to keep them hidden. Nothing I do will convince them that I am not about to melt at any second—and the idea that I am in love horrifies them even more. They say I am lying, and that if it were true I would be dead and gone.”
   “Yes?” Mar prompted.
   “So although I tried everything I could think of, nothing worked,” Shirai said, beaming still wider. “So I realized that I by myself could not persuade them. I need help.”
   “And?” Mar was suddenly finding it difficult to breathe.
   “And so, I want you to come to the north with me,” Shirai said. “I want you to come with me, and stay with me, for as long as you can. I want this in part in hopes that seeing the truth of us, the rest of my clan will see reason and take back their hearts. But more, I want this because I want you much closer than we have been this last year. If I am not to succeed, I would at least that you were with me while I failed.”
   Joy flooded Mar like the most effervescent of wines. More than joy—excitement. “Come with you?!”
   “Yes,” Shirai agreed.
   “Come see the spirits and where you live and everything?!”
   “Yes,” Shirai confirmed.
   “Come live with[/i] you?!”
   “Well not with anyone else, I would hope,” Shirai said with alarm.
   “Oh, God, Shirai! I—I—yes[/i], of course, yes!” Mar burst out laughing, feeling like a bottle of Sprite shaken up until its insides foamed with bubbles and sweetness and energy. “Oh my God—I feel like I’m getting married or something—when can we leave?!”
   “Tomorrow,” Shirai said decisively.
   “Tomorrow?”
   Shirai nodded, and pressed his mouth against Mar’s in a deep, passionate kiss. Mar kissed back with all the love and emotion he had, and the kiss felt to both of them like the fulfillment of a dream.
   “Yes,” Shirai muttered, voice sultry against Mar’s lips. “Definitely not until tomorrow.”
 
THE END
 

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