The Demon's Covenant by Sarah Rees Brennan Page A

then.
    â€œYes,” he said. “One or two things.”
    Mae looked down and kicked an eight-hundred-year-old wall.
    She glanced up at the sound of movement and saw that Alan had circled so there was a glass door between them,lights captured in the glass casting an aquamarine glow on his face. He looked as though he was underwater, pale and otherworldly, his palm against the glass as if he was reaching out a hand to drag her down.
    â€œI always thought those doors were kind of silly,” Mae said at random, trying to make this moment not serious, make it not matter.
    â€œReally?” Alan asked, fingers light on the glass, touching carefully, as if he had one of the artifacts in his hands. “I like them. I like the idea that the past and the present are always tangled together, making us who we are.”
    â€œClearly the bright lights distracted me from the deep symbolism,” Mae said, and smiled at him.
    He smiled back at her, the same smile as when she’d told him it mattered if he was hurt, surprised and sweet.
    â€œAfter we go to Celeste Drake tomorrow, after Jamie is safe,” he began, and paused. “I thought Nick and I might stay here in Exeter.” He traced the shape of a broken cup with musician’s hands. “I was wondering what you were doing Saturday night.”
    It was such an ordinary thing to say, such an overwhelmingly normal way to ask someone out after a conversation about demons and sacrifice, that it struck Mae speechless.
    Alan watched her behind the door of light, his eyes dark serious blue. He waited patiently for her to answer.
    â€œI don’t know. Does a rave sound like your idea of a good time?”
    â€œIt might,” Alan answered, lowering his eyes. His eyelashes sparked gold in the fluorescent lights. “If you were there.”
    â€œYou can’t ask me this now,” Mae blurted.
    â€œIs it the wrong time, or is it that it’s me asking?”
    â€œThere’s a boy at school,” Mae told him. “We’re not going out, but I more or less promised him a chance. I don’t go back on my word.”
    Alan stepped away from the door into the arms of the gathering shadows.
    â€œI appreciate your honesty,” he said. “I’ll be honest too. It’s something I try, every now and then. Not often.” He smiled, and this time it was an ordinary smile, friendly and making her smile back involuntarily. “I hope that boy wastes his chance.”
    Mae ducked her head to hide the smile, though it was in her voice as well. “You never know, but …”
    â€œNo, I understand,” Alan said. “What are you doing Saturday night? I’m asking as a friend. I thought we could go—just as friends, of course—back to the Goblin Market. If you’re interested in visiting it again.”
    Mae burst out laughing at how sly he was.
    â€œYou don’t play fair.”
    Alan drew her out of the ruins, still smiling. “You don’t say.”
    Jamie wasn’t back by the time Mae got home. She had to face the fact that he would rather spend time with someone he was afraid of than come back and talk to her.
    Either that or Nick had put him in the hospital.
    Since she assumed she’d get a call if it was the hospital, she went to bed in one of the guest bedrooms. She could talk to Jamie tomorrow; she wanted a night so they could both rest, and so she could hug the thought of the Goblin Market to herself.
    She remembered seeing a wood hung with glittering lights, magic being sold like toys at stalls, hearing drums and chants and knowing that she would rather be there than anywherein the world. She was going again. She almost loved Alan, just for that.
    But it wasn’t fair to Alan to love him for the potential of magic. She owed him more than she could ever repay: it was due to Alan that Jamie was alive at all. It wouldn’t be fair to Alan to love him for that, either. The