“You are not safe here,” he tells me.
“Of course not. You’re going to scoop out my brains like you did to Ivan.”
He chuckles. I can almost look at him from the corner of my eye; speckled black hair, not onyx like Valentin’s but like a shirt left too long in the sun. No, wait—is it golden? A blazing red? Trying to pin down this man’s substance is like trying to catch a firefly in your hand. As soon as I think I’ve caught him, I open up to find him gone.
“The foolish boy? He was too close to seeing me. I couldn’t have him tattle. No, Yulia, I’m here to help you.”
I shake my head. “Please, if you’re going to kill me, get it over with. I don’t want to suffer like he’s suffering.” The car’s cold metal seeps through my coat; the wind outside lashes at us through the bars.
He laughs like crinkling foil. “I’m offering you a way out.”
The spokes of Moscow’s streets branch out before us, pinned to the city center by the Kremlin and Lenin’s tomb. White and gray slush, split open by drab buildings, dead trees. “Out of what? The KGB, the mansion? Moscow?” I swallow hard.
“You don’t want to be trapped forever.” He leans toward me. His face is tan somehow in the dead of winter. No, that’s not right; it is ashen, post-mortem gray. “You’re tasked with protecting the Veter 1 lunar mission design, yes?”
I nod. My mouth has frozen over.
“They will launch the Veter 1 in secret just outside of Berlin in a few weeks. Your team will be in attendance—ostensibly to protect the launch and the high-ranking Party members in attendance from dangerous men. Like me.”
“Will we?” I ask.
He nods. “You will.” Sunlight glints off his smooth teeth. I must comply.
“Rostov is a dangerous man,” I say. “He will do whatever it takes to stop you. His powers, they’re just like yours—”
“But I am better.” The scrubber grins again.
“Why Berlin?” I ask. “If you really mean to offer me a—a way out.” A way out. Three words focusing my thoughts like a lens.
He shifts, jostling the seat; our car crests the top of the Ferris wheel with a lurch. “Because even I am not that good. Besides, there is still much more fun to be had.”
He leans forward and pushes his ungloved thumb against my forehead. Metal screams all around me, as if the Ferris wheel is pulling off its axis and our car will go tumbling into the frozen Moskva. There is something inside my brain—slivers of ice. The man that was the scrubber has flared into molten whiteness once more.
“Chernin,” I say. “You knew my last name.” I can hardly think around this new presence in my mind, but I’m replaying his words, desperate for meaning.
He doesn’t answer. I don’t know if my head can carry all this weight.
“Please,” I whisper. “Tell me what you know.”
The car sinks. Moscow swells up to greet us. I slump against the wall as this alien thought buries deeper into my head. The operator tears open the door.
“I will see you in Berlin,” the scrubber says, all brilliance fading from him as he steps out of the car.
*
Valentin pushes toward me as I stagger off the Ferris wheel platform. The air smells like death and cold; it’s too sharp. Too real. He seizes my arm and all the pain and fear in him rubs off on me. Too much. I shake him away.
“Yul, what happened? Are you okay?” He puts an arm around my waist, but I tug away from him again.
“Please, don’t touch me. My head is…” My head is what? I look across the park, listening to the children scream as they run between the rides and the skating rink. Where have I been? Did I fall asleep on a bench and dream of sailing through the stars?
“You vanished. We were standing by the bench, and then…” He stops and rubs at his eyes. “Bozhe moi. Did he come back?” Valya’s voice turns hard. “Did he hurt you?”
“No. He was right there, and I—” I what? I couldn’t see his face. I heard his voice, but the words were like drops of water, and once they’d pooled together, I could never sort one from the other.
“You saw him?” Valentin cups my face in his hands. Even through his gloves, his hands are scorching. “But you’re—all right.” He swallows hard. “Aren’t you?”
The noise in my head turns sharp and acrid. “He could have killed me,” I say, throat clenching up. “But he didn’t. What if he doesn’t want us dead at all?”
“Yulia. You saw what he did to Ivan. To that wildling boy—he had no idea who he was or what he was doing there.”