Cold Kiss

though, too intense, and when a squirrel runs in front of me on McKinley, a skittering gray shape too close to my feet, I muffle a scream of surprise and watch in horror as it explodes into a cloud of dandelion puffs. The wind carries them away in a starburst, pale green stems wheeling along helplessly.
    “Oh my God.” I sink to my knees right there on the sidewalk, shaking. I did that. I made a squirrel disappear, change, explode, whatever it was, and I didn’t even mean to. I did that.
    I’ve done so many things now, and in the big picture one harmless squirrel morphing into a weed isn’t exactly tragic, but it doesn’t matter. It feels so wrong, as wrong as the cold pallor of Danny’s skin under my hands, as wrong as the sickly bright sting of pain in my palm when I sliced it open with the athame.
    You’re wrong, that voice whispers, cool and slithering in my head. All wrong.
    I can’t stop shaking. I fumble my phone out of my pocket and press the number for Gabriel.
    It rings three times before he picks it up, and I cut right through his sleepy, muffled hello.
    “He’s gone. He’s gone. I’m walking and I can’t find him and I don’t know where he is, and what if he does something, Gabriel, he drew all these pictures and—”
    “Whoa. Whoa. Wren, calm down.”
    I can’t, not right away—the words tumble out of my mouth, broken and breathless, until Gabriel nearly shouts, “Wren, stop. Just hold on, okay? I’m on my way.”
    It’s after two when Gabriel runs toward me. I stumble straight into his arms and bury my face in his chest, breathing in his heat.
    “Hey.” He strokes my back briskly as I shiver. “You’re frozen.”
    I am, but it doesn’t matter. I shrug off his arms and step back, shaking my head. “We have to find him. Come on.”
    “Wren, you’re a Popsicle. Just warm up and tell me everything, all right? Slowly.” He bends his head to look me in the eye.
    “I told you! He’s gone, Gabriel, and we’re still blocks from his house and—”
    “You’re not getting the hang of ‘slowly,’” he says, and pulls me back against him. “Put my jacket on at least.”
    It’s got to be near freezing for real now—the grass shimmers with the pale sheen of frost, and the stars are an icy blue. I let him drape the faded army jacket over my shoulders but it’s hard not to just bolt, dragging him along behind me. I’m still jittery, echoes of that explosion of power rippling through me, and I can feel time ticking away, every second another chance that someone has seen Danny, paper white and unreal.
    No. I swallow back another awful surge of bile.
    “Come on,” I say, and grab his elbow.
    Gabriel blinks in surprise. “ Wait . Tell me where you’ve looked, where you think he might be.”
    “While we walk,” I insist, and the wet heat of tears scalds my cheeks. “Come on . Are you going to help me or not?”
    “Wren,” he says, and he’s so self-possessed, so logical, talking to me like I’m insane, like he has to be careful or I’ll attack at any moment.
    He’s probably not wrong.
    “You need to calm down. I can feel the power in you, and it’s like fireworks waiting to be lit.” He steps closer slowly, takes the hand I’ve left outstretched, and closes his fingers around it.
    I nod, and wipe the tears away with my free hand. Calm. I can do that.
    We’re halfway down the block when he glances sideways at me, wincing. “A squirrel, huh?”
    He gets an elbow in the ribs in reply, and I don’t feel a bit guilty.
    “I really thought he would be here.”
    We’re across the street from Danny’s house, and it’s nearly three now. The sky is slowly losing color, beginning to bleed out the black, but the streets are still sleeping.
    The Greers’ house is closed up for the night, blinds drawn and doors shut, and in the fading dark it looks sad. As if it’s faded in the last few months, too. Even the yard looks shabby in its bare fall clothes.
    Gabriel puts his arm around me, but I shrug it off. I know it’s wrong—it’s the middle of the night and he’s here to help me, but standing across the street from Danny’s house with another boy’s arm around me is wrong, too. Wronger, and I can’t even remember if that’s a word, but it’s still true.
    “It’s the first place I would have looked,” Gabriel says, and if his voice sounds a little strained, I’m not going to apologize. Not right now anyway.
    “What if he’s inside?” I whisper, squinting