Vision in Silver

CHAPTER 16

 

 

 

 

Firesday, Maius 11

 

 

Meg sat at the top of the stairs leading to her apartment, a book beside her. Her porch provided shelter in bad weather and shade when it was sunny. It had latticework for privacy. What it didn’t have was anyplace to sit.

 

Some of the apartments in the Green Complex had porches; others didn’t. None of the other porches had the privacy latticework. They also didn’t have furniture. Too early in the season? Or didn’t Hawks, Owls, and Crows bother with furniture since the porch railing was a sufficient perch?

 

Tomorrow she would look through the ads in the Lakeside News to get an idea of what people might buy for outdoor furniture. This evening . . .

 

“Want to take a walk?”

 

She looked at Simon standing at the bottom of the stairs.

 

“Okay,” she said. “Aren’t you going to shift first?”

 

“No.”

 

Not the answer she expected. Simon usually shifted to Wolf as soon as he got home, relieved to be out of the human skin.

 

Taking the book inside, she exchanged the soft house shoes for sneakers. A walk with Simon could mean anything from an amble to a muscle-burning pace, and just because he started out in human form didn’t mean he wouldn’t be trotting along on four legs by the time it was finished.

 

She closed her front door, then joined Simon.

 

“You need to read this first.” He unfolded a piece of paper and handed it to her.

 

Haven’t we all faced enough today? she thought as she refolded the paper and handed it back to him.

 

She started walking, needing a distraction from the prickling around her shoulder blades. Simon fell into step beside her, saying nothing for several minutes.

 

Plenty of Courtyard residents out and about. Many saw them and hesitated, but no one approached.

 

“I remember her,” Meg finally said. “I remember cs821. She was younger than me. I can’t tell you her age, but she got her first scar last year or the year before, so the doctor’s guess sounds right.”

 

“She said she wants to live. Jackson isn’t sure she will. What can he do? What would help you if you were in her place?”

 

“They took away the silver razor?”

 

“Probably.”

 

“Return it to her. Return the razors to the girls who had them.”

 

“They’ll cut themselves.”

 

“They’ll cut anyway.” She kept walking, kept moving. “So many things will cut skin, but those razors were designed for it.”

 

“She doesn’t want to die.”

 

“Neither do I.” Meg stopped and looked at Simon. He couldn’t quite pass for human anymore. “Neither do I, but I want to be the one who makes the choice.”

 

He started walking, a fast pace, as if he wanted to run away from the words.

 

She ran to catch up to him, then had to run every few steps to keep up with him.

 

“Simon . . . ,” she panted.

 

He slowed but didn’t stop.

 

The terra indigene had agreed that it was her choice, but they didn’t like the cutting. To them, fresh blood meant a wound, and in the wild country, a wound could be fatal. Add in the fact that cassandra sangue blood acted like a drug, and she understood why the Others weren’t easy about her cutting. Being thrust in the position of taking care of a girl they didn’t know—and who didn’t know them—would make everything harder for all of them.

 

“Tell Jackson to give her a room that contains as little as possible. Give her time to rest.” Meg thought about the girl called cs821. “Maybe leave one thing that has colors. She liked colors. She would describe training images first by their color and then by their shape.”

 

“I’ll tell him.”

 

They returned to the Green Complex in silence. Simon hurried into his own apartment and came out again a minute later. He shook out his fur and ran off, needing something she couldn’t give.

 

Sighing, Meg looked up at her apartment. She felt exhausted and restless, hungry and too listless to bother with food.

 

“Have you eaten?” asked a voice in the shadows beneath her stairs. Vlad stepped into the fading light, his form still shifting from smoke to human. “We picked up a couple of pizzas from Hot Crust. Tess made a salad. We’re gathering in the social room to watch movies.”

 

“Which movies?” Meg asked.

 

“Does it matter?”

 

She preferred being able to hide behind Simon during a movie’s scary bits—and most terra indigene movies had scary bits. “I guess not.”

 

“Then join us.” Vlad smiled. “I’ll tell Simon where to find you when he finishes his run.” He studied her. “Or I can bring you some food if you’d prefer to be alone.”

 

Did she want to be alone? Did she need to be alone?

 

“I’ll join you for the first movie,” Meg said.

 

His smiled widened, showing a bit of fang. “Come on, then. Let’s get the pizza while it’s still warm.”

 

As she and Vlad walked to the side of the Green Complex that held the mail room, laundry room, and social room, Meg heard a wolf howling. She thought he sounded lonely.

 

 

*

 

The efficiency apartments had shower stalls instead of bathtubs. After many assurances that he would be able to cope with her hair if she got it wet—and equal insistence on Lizzy’s part that she could wash herself and would be careful on the slippy floor—Monty left his little girl to shower by herself. While he listened for any sign of distress or, gods forbid, a slip and injury, he unpacked her suitcase, hanging up a few things in the closet and putting the rest in half the drawers in the dresser.

 

A temporary arrangement until they had more information about what happened to Elayne. A practical choice, since, as Kowalski pointed out, the Courtyard was closer to the Chestnut Street station than Monty’s apartment, and it was a safe haven for his little girl, because who would think to look for her here?

 

Monty picked up Lizzy’s folded pajamas and felt something the size of a small book. Unfolding the pajamas, he stared at the pink diary sprinkled with gold stars. It had a latch and a tiny keyhole. He tried the latch, confirming that the diary was locked. A quick feel through the suitcase didn’t turn up a key.

 

He rubbed his thumb over the stars. A diary? What would a seven-year-old write about? School? Friends? Please, gods, no confessions about a crush on a boy. Not yet.

 

Before he could wonder too much about the contents, Lizzy yelled, “Daddy! Make the water turn off!”

 

Monty stuffed the diary in the drawer with Lizzy’s underwear and hurried to make the water turn off.

 

 

 

 

 

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