I have to get her off the street, and there aren’t that many places I can take her. She ran in the opposite direction from my place, but Tristan’s is close. I’d have to take her out onto a crowded boulevard to get to him, but running into foot traffic can’t be helped now. It’s rush hour.
I try to tip her head toward me as I carry her so that at least her face is pressed close to my chest. Her bright hair is everywhere. It obscures some of her features, but it’s also like a beacon, drawing stares. As I hurry past, I see people look at me, recognize who I am, then glance down at the slight redhead in my arms and make the obvious connection.
Their confusion, coupled with the reverence they have for the Salem Witch, is what keeps anyone from stopping me. Still, I move fast, before someone gets it in their head to summon the guard.
Four blocks later, and I’m at Tristan’s building. I don’t have a free hand so I reach out to him in mindspeak.
Wake up.
Go away, Rowan. I’m busy.
Tell her you forgot about an appointment. This is important.
He tries to block me out, but Tristan doesn’t have a fraction of my talent. I don’t stop pestering him until he comes down. He pulls open the door with a blanket wrapped around his bare waist. When he sees me his expression pinwheels from angry to confused to terrified in a moment.
“You crazy son of a—” he says as I barrel past him with Lillian in my arms.
I carry her up to Tristan’s apartment and dump her on his couch. It’s easier to just show him what happened this morning rather than tell him, so I share the memory while he and I look down on Lillian’s inert body. Of course, the girl he brought home the night before picks that moment to come out of his bedroom.
“Where’d you go, baby?” she asks, rubbing her sleepy eyes. She’s wearing his shirt and nothing else.
I rip the blanket off Tristan and toss it over Lillian. That hair of hers. Its uncontainable—poking out from under the edge of the blanket and spilling off the side of the couch in a shining red curtain of curls. The girl sees it and looks up at me, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
Tristan hurries the girl back to his bedroom, telling her that he’s sorry but she’s got to go. He promises her dinner and says something about how much fun he had and how much he likes her before I stop listening. A few minutes later the girl passes on her way to the door, still fastening the buttons on her dress. I give her a weak smile and she eyes me warily.
“Is she going to be a problem?” I ask Tristan once she’s gone.
“No idea,” Tristan responds, waving a frustrated hand in the air. “Can’t remember her name.” I roll my eyes, but Tristan’s not having any of my judgment today. “Hey, no one asked you to show up here with her like that!” He pulls the blanket off of Lillian with one quick tug, exposing her slack form. He draws his brow together, really seeing her for the first time. “What is she wearing?”
“I don’t know,” I say, staring down at her. “I’ve never seen anyone dress like that before. And what’s a nuke?” I add, reading the writing on her shirt. Tristan shrugs.
“So what do you want to do?” he asks.
“Get her out of the city.” I’m making this up as I go along. “We should bring her to Alaric.”
Tristan bites his lower lip, considering. “You know, we could end this whole thing right now,” he says quietly.
I picture myself placing my hands on the sides of Lillian’s head and giving it one quick twist. This isn’t something new for me. I’ve fantasized about snapping her neck a thousand times in the past year, but as I look down on her all I can see is the soft skin and fragile bones I used to tilt my face into when I held her. I remember breathing her in, and I can’t find the strength in my arms to actually do it.
“Do you want to—” I don’t know how to phrase this so I let my words trail off. Tristan looks horrified.
“No. I couldn’t do it,” he says, blanching.
“You suggested it.”
“I thought you’d want to.”