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He takes a step forward, and I take one back.
My heart gallops in my chest, and there’s a vice around my throat, slowly tightening and sealing off my airway.
“Tell me, malen’kiy golub’, do you want to fly?”
My eyes widen, and I stumble back a step.
Just then, the door opens, letting in a gust of music, right along with the breath of relief that rushes out of me.
“Sir.”
The white-haired man turns his head, a flicker of irritation creasing his features.
The bald man dressed in all black propping the door open, cuts an unreadable glance my way. And then he says something—a string of what sounds like Russian perhaps leaving his barely moving lips.
“I see,” the man with the white hair and cane murmurs. He hums, and turns to cast me an unreadable look. He seems almost…disappointed. He says something, and this time I don’t know what language it is. Latin maybe?
My eyes round and I dart looks between him and the man at the door.
A bodyguard?
Who is this guy?
“Well,” the white-haired man says. “It would seem that business is calling me away.”
Relief blooms brightly in my chest, expanding my chest.
“You have a lovely night, little dove,” he says, and I nod, murmuring, “You too.”
Humor alights his eye, and he goes to turn away, but pauses.
“And remember, for as much as the physical world tries to keep us chained…” He steps toward me once more, and lifts a hand, coasting a gloved finger down my temple.
I hold myself utterly and completely still.
“In here, we are limitless.” His gaze bores into me, and I’m helpless to look away. “And we always find ways to…satisfy what we cannot have.” His hand drops, finger skating over my clenched, trembling fist, right over where I’ve got pencil smudges stained in my skin.
Chills spread like wildfire across my skin, bringing a full-bodied shudder to my limbs before I can stop it.
He smiles knowingly, pulling away, taking a step back. Then another. Then another.
“Take care, little one,” he murmurs, and turns away, following his bodyguard or whatever out into the hall, and taking all the air out of the room with it.
“Jeremy?” Mom says, worry sharpening her tone when I reach them. “Where’s your sister?”
I look around, not really seeing anything, but feeling like everyone sees me. “She’s c-coming. She was outside, talking to M-Mason.”
She says something, but I don’t hear her. The world’s shrinking around me.
I can’t breathe.
Tugging at the collar of my shirt, I say in a quiet, stuttered rush, “I-I think I’m gonna go upstairs. I don’t feel good.”
It was nothing.
What happened in the bathroom was nothing.
And yet, why do I feel like I somehow just…barely crawled away with my life?
