“I threw an air conditioner at him. Isn’t that enough?” I was offended, I had pushed myself way beyond my comfort level, and he didn’t even see it.
“And the second you did, you worried for him.” His statement was a little too true to life. I felt my chest stiffen against it. “I can guarantee you, he did not do the same for you. If I had not taken you away, he would have crumbled the building underneath you, hurled a fiery car toward you, or flung your body into a telephone pole. What would you have done in return?”
I didn’t know what to say, I knew every word that Ilyan had said was true. I had worried about Ryland every time I attacked him. I had watched for signs of life after I had launched him off the roof. If we had not escaped, I would have done the same thing I had always done – acted in desperation to save him, even as he attempted to kill me.
I needed to be stronger, but I didn’t know how to be. Saving him is one thing, fighting him is another one entirely “I can’t do this,”
“You can, Joclyn.” Ilyan gently moved my head up to look at him, my body still tight against his as we cut through the air. “We just have to change our game plan.”
“And, how do you suggest we do that?”
“Oh, I have ideas.” Ilyan smiled the powerful grin that was so natural for him and I fought a shiver from moving up my spine. I don’t know if it was from the icy air or worry about what he had planned, but either way, I was uncomfortable.
I pulled away from his gaze to move back against his chest. I fought to keep the ‘ideas’ that Ilyan had floating around inside his head from occupying my thoughts. Ilyan stayed silent, which helped me to keep my mind clear.
We flew until I could see the sliver of dawn’s first light peek over the horizon. The dim light crept into my brain and I yawned, hating the reminder of how little sleep I had been able to sneak in. I was glad for Ilyan’s supportive arms, without them I am not sure I would have been able to keep myself airborne.
Just as a sliver of sun peeked out over a river that lay down to our right, Ilyan began a quick descent to a small community surrounded by farmland.
“Are we going to be farmers, Ilyan?” I asked my voice stretched out as I yawned again.
“No, I have had more than enough of that to last me a lifetime,” he said.
I couldn’t think of why Ilyan would choose to be a farmer. The work seemed far too slow and monotonous, but then he had also lived in at least three churches that I knew of. They were both odd choices.
“Do you see that house in the middle of the main street, the one with a green roof?”
I looked eagerly toward the center of the town, easily picking out the green roof amongst the brightening buildings. The house was huge. Daydreams of my own bed and bathroom filled my mind. I had lived in close proximity to Ilyan for far too long.
“It’s not much,” Ilyan said, but I scoffed at him.
“As long as there is a giant bed, in my own bedroom that I can sleep in for the next two days I will be happy.” I grinned and bobbed happily a little bit, careful to keep Ilyan’s hands against my skin, and the shield Ilyan was protecting me with intact.
“There is a bed, of that much you can be sure.”
“A bed?” I asked, terrified. “What do you mean a bed?” I wiggled around in his arms, craning my head to look at him.
Ilyan looked down on me for a minute, his lips turned up at the corners, before looking away.
“I mean, there is one bed where we are going.” I didn’t miss the hint of sarcasm in his voice.
“Not two?”
“Not two.” He didn’t seem too torn up about this.
“But the house is huge...” I looked toward it aimlessly, my excitement dashed.
“We call it the haunted house. We haven’t used this safe house for decades, so I am hoping that if there is a spy they won’t be able to find us here.”
“The haunted house? Why would you call it a haunted...?” We were close enough to the house now that I could see large portrait windows, and the family inside having breakfast.
“Someone lives here?” I yelled in a panic.
Ilyan clasped his hand over my mouth. We landed on the roof right against a window that obviously led to the attic. The glass was so old and grungy I couldn’t see inside. Ilyan’s hand moved down my arm to wrap tightly around my unbroken hand, keeping contact with my skin. The motion reminded me that we were nowhere near safe.
“Someone lives here?” I asked in a whisper the second Ilyan had removed his hand.
He looked to me with an exasperated face that I knew all too well, our feet securing us precariously on the steep roof.
“Yes, Siln?, someone lives here. The safe house is in the attic. We will be confined to a very small space for a week – and only a week,” he added hastily as my mouth fell open in panic. “We call it the haunted house because while they can’t see us, they will be able to hear us moving around and talking.”
“So we are like, ghosts?” My panic was steadily increasing.