Page 16 of Veinblood
“Are you okay? Where did you come from? You must be freezing.” I’m talking too fast, hands still pressed to his cheeks, while I try to ignore the storm of emotions crashing through me at the sight of him. Relief, disbelief, the sick fear that he might still dissolve into nothing.
“I’ve endured worse.”
I want to ask a thousand questions. Where he’s been since yesterday, what he remembers of Thornspire, how he survivedthe snowstorm. But my mouth won’t work properly, and none of them matter against the single fact that he’s here in front of me.
“Ellie!” Kate’s voice breaks through the moment. I twist to see her standing a few feet away, my coat clutched in her hands, and her face a mask of confusion and mild alarm. “What the hell is going on? You just ran out of the diner like—” Her gaze shifts to Sacha, taking in his unusual appearance. “Who is this?”
My hand drops from his face and my fingers curl around his wrist, holding on tight. I don’t care if it gives the impression that I’m scared he’ll disappear if I let go completely.
“Kate, this is Sacha. He’s …” How can I possibly explain who he is? She’s never seen me with him before.
Kate’s eyes narrow as she studies him—the way he stands, how he has one hand resting on my shoulder, his clothes. “He’s …what?”
“It’s …” I cast around looking for something that will stop her asking questions. “It's complicated. He's ... someone I met online. We've been talking for months.”
Her expression changes immediately, turning curious. “You didn’t tell me you were talking to someone.”
“I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure. And he wasn’t certain he’d make it here before Christmas. I need to go. I’ll call you later.”
“But it’s Christmas Eve?—”
“I know, I’m sorry. But this is important to me.” I take my coat, guilt at lying to her outweighed by the need to get Sacha out of the cold.
Kate looks like she wants to ask more questions, but instead she nods. “I want to hear all about it. You promise to tell me?”
“I promise. After Christmas.” Without waiting for her to say anymore, I pull on my coat, and lead Sacha away from the diner.
“Have you been out in the cold all night?”
“Since arriving, yes. I found somewhere to wait out the storm.”
“My place isn’t far from here.”
Snow starts to fall again as we walk, thick flakes catching in his hair. His jaw is clenched, but he can’t quite hide the shivers that wrack his body, and I pick up our pace, wanting to get him indoors before he catches pneumonia.
Every few steps, someone passes us on the sidewalk. A woman with shopping bags. A man walking his dog. An elderly couple moving carefully on the ice. Sacha’s eyes track each one. A car backfires somewhere in the distance, and he stops dead.
“It’s just a car. Not a threat.”
“Car?”
I point at one parked on the street. “We use them to travel around.”
He nods, but doesn’t relax. This world must feel like sensory overload to him. It’s been bad enough for me, and I lived here for all my life. No wonder he looks ready to fight. By the time we reach my building, his lips have a blue tinge, despite his efforts to hide how cold he is.
I lead him inside, and guide him toward the elevator. He examines it with interest when the doors slide open, and follows me inside.
“It’s called an elevator. It will take us up to my floor.” I push the button, and the doors close, sealing us inside.
I have to stop him from exiting when it stops on the second floor to let an elderly woman inside. She takes one look at Sacha and clutches her purse a little tighter, pressing herself against the far wall. I can’t even blame her. She’s sharing a small enclosed space with someone who, even on the verge of pneumonia, could kill her a dozen different ways with nothing more than a thought.
Once it stops on my floor, we get out and walk down the hallway to my apartment. As soon as we’re inside, I turn up the heat, then turn to look at him.
His gaze moves around the room, noting windows, doorways, potential exits … of which there is one. They track over the bookshelves, photographs on the walls, and I wonder how it all must look to him.
In Meridian, I was the outsider trying to understand an alien world. Now our positions are reversed, but unlike my terror, he is showing the same cool assessment he brings to everything.
“You need some warmer clothes,” I say, watching him suppress another shiver. “And food. When did you last eat?”
