Page 144 of Winterveil

Julian took the phone from Landon and scrolled down. Some furtive photographer had managed to capture a single moment of intimacy between him and Klaudia: his hand brushing the small of her back, her arm around his shoulder, their fingers laced together. The shot was in profile, over the heads of the other guests, and slightly blurry—but it caught the glow of Klaudia’s pale skin against her dark hair, the graceful line of her neck, and . . .

The faintest smile on her face. He remembered how the worried hesitation in her eyes had melted into pleasure as he drew her onto the dance floor, holding her close, feeling the flutter of her breath and the answering spike in his pulse.

Klaudia had been right; photos from the gala had leaked. She had been right about everything.

Except, evidently, about trusting him.

Landon was saying something. Julian blinked out of his reverie.

“. . . doesn’t really look like your type, though.” A lazy smirk came over Landon’s face. He scrutinized the photo again. “Maybe from the neck down.”

Julian grasped the steering wheel and swerved to the nearest curb, then slammed his foot on the brake. The car lurched to a halt. “Get out.”

Landon’s jaw went slack. “What?”

“Get out,” Julian said. When Landon continued to stare at him in blank shock, Julian reached over and unbuckled Landon’s seat belt. He leaned far enough to catch the door handle on Landon’s side and thrust the door open. “Get out.”

“Julian—”

“Get out,” Julian repeated, voice shaking.

Landon, looking dazed and already halfway through his high, rose unsteadily from his seat and stumbled onto the curb. He managed to balance himself against a streetlamp before he fell.

Julian slammed the door shut after him. He hunched over in his seat, bracing his arms on the steering wheel, and stared at Landon’s phone in his lap. At the picture of Klaudia, at her shy but earnest smile.

He pounded his fist once on the dashboard, feeling the pain reverberate up his arm, as if that might make his decision for him. He raised his head and stared at himself in the rearview mirror, streetlights casting his face in a glaze of red.

Julian drew in a breath. He set Landon’s phone in the cupholder and peeled out from the curb.

He didn’t look back, or even away from the road, until he reached the Boston city limits. That was when his breathing finally steadied, too. The dark thing was still inside him, but it no longer tapped its claws or gnashed its teeth. His heart felt light as he turned onto the highway and headed south.

Forty-Five

Spring 2037

New York, New York

The world was a blur of white. White sheets and white curtains, the glare of fluorescent lights. Strange faces in masks hovered over hers, prodding her with their words. Stay with me, all right? You’re going to be fine. Does it hurt?

The wheels of the gurney clattered on the linoleum. Cold scissor blades against her skin as they cut off her black dress, replacing it with a paper gown. The snap of medical gloves. Her blood, pouring over the crinkling paper and dripping onto the floor, staining everything red and tinting the air with the smell of death.

Nadiya’s vision went black.

When she came to, she was in a hospital bed, her left leg elevated in a sling. The light scalded her eyes. The monitor at her bedside beeped in a steady rhythm. A nurse in navy scrubs sat beside her, and as soon as Nadiya stirred, she bolted up.

“Welcome back,” she said, her voice soft. “How are you feeling?”

“Where’s Giselle?”

The nurse frowned. The name tag on her scrubs read Sam. “Is that a friend of yours? If you give me her number, I can call her. She should be able to come for visiting hours as soon as you’re cleared by a doctor.”

Her thoughts were swimming. There was nothing in her mind she could arrange into words. Nadiya slipped under once again.

The next time she woke, Sam was gone, and there was a doctor leaning over her instead. The name tag on his white coat read Dr. Li.

“There you are,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

It seemed like an absurd question to ask someone who’d just had a bullet surgically removed from their thigh. Nadiya wondered how much strange blood had been pumped into her to keep her heart beating. Despite the heaviness of exhaustion, she managed to raise one shoulder in a shrug.