In the half light, Russ looked younger and less imposing than he had previously, perhaps because his dark clothing blended so perfectly into the night. It felt like our shared experiences and shared concern for Dec had connected us as friends.
“I guess Dec will be free to focus on leaving now,” I said, and immediately regretted it when Russ grimaced and pulled his coat around himself. “I’m sorry. I mean, it does not take a psychic. Um, medium… Sometimes it is easier to see things from the outside. And you obviously…” I was aware of myself rambling, so I stopped before I finished my sentence.
I could see the moon reflected in Russ’s eyes as if it had taken the place of his pupils, wide and white.
“Does he know?” I asked. It was all too easy to conjure the feeling of Dec’s lips on my own. It made me feel guilty for having had something Russ wanted for himself.
“He knows I’d do anything for him. Does anything really matter beyond that?” Russ kept his eyes on the moon. “And like you said, he’s leaving. The sooner, the better, actually.”
Russ looked at me, and suddenly I was not sure which would be harder, being the one to leave or being the one left.
He paused, rubbing his wrist, and then said, “I know we don’t know each other well, and I’m not one for asking for favors, but is it okay for me to ask you for one?”
“Of course.”
Russ’s tone left no doubt that he was serious. “Help him leave. Help him get out of here as soon as possible.”
Help Dec leave? Could I? Was it even possible that we could walk out of St. Hilaire together after all of this was over? My whole time here felt like something from a storybook. Was there any way to move our relationship into real life when I did not even know what I was going to do from here?
“It’s what’s right for him, Annie,” Russ said. “He needs to get out of here.”
“What about you?” I asked.
“I’m not going anywhere. I have a meeting with the Guild tomorrow, in fact,” he said with the hint of a smile on his face. I stared at him long enough that the smile faded. “My mother,” he began and then seemed to think better of it. “Doesn’t loving people mean you have to let them do what they need to do?”
I pictured Dmitry, doped up on pain meds after the last time we played together in public. I had wanted to go to a quiet coffee shop to talk. Instead, he had pulled me aside in my dressing room and said he was going out and not to expect him back.
I had always tried to remember my place. Remember who Dmitry was and who I would have been had he not agreed to take me on. But that night, I was hurt. And now that childish hurt embarrassed me in light of Russ’s comment.
“Even if you believe they are making a mistake?” I asked.
“Especially then.” Russ shrugged and laughed sadly. “How come you never asked if I could contact him for you?”
“Dmitry?”
Russ nodded.
I tried to explain my feelings without divulging my conversation with Tristan. “I believe Dmitry would have spoken to me before he died if he had anything to say. He sent me an email asking me to find the Prelude. I have done that; for better or worse. I do not know that I have anything left to tell him.”
Russ looked up at the sky and said, “I wish more people realized that. Sometimes you have to stop. Sometimes you don’t get what you want when you try to force things.”
I had a sudden urge to hug every inch of Russ’s sadness away, but knew better than to try. “I believe you and Dmitry would have gotten along well,” I said instead.
Russ pulled his eyes away from the moon and turned to me, but somehow the reflected light stayed in them. “What are you going to do now?”
I thought about the time I had lost and the events I already had scheduled. “I have shows, and this competition, and then…” I hesitated.
“And then?”
I made a decision that had been in the back on my mind for days. “Home. You said I should go home. For a minute, I thought that this place, that St. Hilaire might play a part, but now, well, now I have this bizarre idea that I need to go see my family. Before we get any further apart.”
Russ nodded. “Families are tricky, regardless of whether they’re the one you’re born into or the one you create.” He jumped down from the car and held out a hand. I took it and slid off the hood.
Chapter 47
Russ
Sometimes you don’t get what you want. It was one thing to say the words to Annie, quite another to accept them myself. Dec was never going to care about me like that, and I’d never had any doubt about it.
That didn’t make it painless.
On top of it, while I’d proven that my grandmother’s solution would work and now had the opportunity to demonstrate my success to the Guild, it was becoming clear that the organization wasn’t the creepy-but-benevolent group of elders I’d assumed them to be. They were not only corrupt but had allowed Dec’s parents to die. So instead of rising through their ranks and being mentored, I was going to work my ass off because Ian Mackenzie told me that avenging their deaths and stopping the Guild’s disturbing plans was my responsibility.
That also sucked.
I walked through the quiet house. My father was, of course, at work. The squeak of the floorboards under my feet was the only noise cutting through the silence. I tried humming. I let out a loud string of expletives to hear how they sounded. I recited Chaucer in Middle English because some teacher at some school had told me it would be an important thing to know. So far it hadn’t been.
The living room was cold and drafty. The kitchen cluttered. I didn’t go into my father’s room because I was a firm believer in privacy. The bathroom reminded me it was my turn to clean this week. I didn’t bother going up into the attic.
I went to my room and flicked on the bedside lamp. Flicked it off. Lit the candles that hung off iron sconces. I was waiting for something. I just didn’t know what.
I was tired of waiting.
I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my few contacts. Annie’s talk of home made me miss my mother. Dad insisted I keep her number in my phone, just in case. I was sure that meant I should call if my father was run over by a train or otherwise debilitated. Not because I was confused, sad, and lonely.
I threw the phone onto the desk and looked in the mirror. Spiked hair. Tired eyes. Mouth drawn in a thin line. Like always.
The closet door stood open slightly. Beckoning. I tried to look away. Failed.
I was in the closet without consciously walking over to it, and felt the joke somewhere deep inside. Maybe Willow had been right after all. I was so tired of hiding from the things I wanted.