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“It’s cold. Wear this.” I push the jacket in her hands, giving up on trying to be chivalrous. My head is reeling with questions.
What do I do with her? She will probably need professional help to deal with the world. It’s three in the morning. I don’t want to wake the Empress up. I don’t want to be on her bad side again.
The girl puts the jacket on without breaking eye contact with me. Her light blue eyes bore into mine with an uncomfortable intensity. It feels like she’s used to watching quietly, absorbing every movement of the people around her.
“Have you gone to the police?” I ask.
“I don’t know who that is.”
I hold my head in my hand and rub my hairline, feeling a headache starting. Can I just leave her here?
No, idiot, she’s a child.
“Let me make a call.” I pull out my phone and dial Ivo. Maybe he’ll know where the children are. She should rejoin them as soon as possible.
He doesn’t pick up. I call again. The girl’s gaze is so focused on my face that it prickles.
After a few excruciatingly slow minutes, Ivo picks up. There’s booming music in the background and people shouting and singing. Right. He’s at the celebration party.
“Where are the children?” I whisper into the phone, urgency snaking its way into my voice.
“WHAT?” Ivo shouts back.
“The kids. From the cult. Where are they?” I try again, a bit louder.
“I CAN’T HEAR YOU! WAIT!” There’s shuffling and a door slamming, then the background noise dissipates. “You were asking something about the cult?”
Ivo’s voice is still too loud for comfort, but at least he isn’t shouting.
“I want to go to where the kids are,” I say.
“They’re at the Russian embassy. All of them are Russian citizens and can’t speak a lick of English. Why?”
I narrow my eyes at the girl. “No reason. I felt guilty, that’s all,” I say to Ivo.
“Come celebrate with us! No guilt here,” he replies with an audible smile.
“Nah, thank you, though.” I end the call.
Now it’s me staring at the slumped teenager in front of me.
“Who are you?” I ask.
“Jenya,” she replies.
“Just Jenya?” I repeat her name, the sounds foreign on my tongue. If you were to sound it out, the beginning is like the middle of the word ‘vision’, followed by an E as in ‘pet,’ then nya, like the end of Tanya’s name.
A memory of the crumpled orphanage flyer in Tanya’s hands flashes in my mind. Maybe she knows more about this whole thing than she was willing to tell me. Maybe I should take the girl to her.
“And who are you?” Jenya asks.
“Ben,” I say absentmindedly. Would Tanya like me more or less if I brought her a teenage girl from a cult? After everything that happened in Lavender, she’s probably in a good position to help Jenya adjust to this world.
She’s clearly not like the other children. Her English is perfect and she’s nowhere near their age. The oldest child in Ivo’s rescue report was ten years old.
“Are the children safe, Ben?” She pronounces my name like Byen.
“They’re safe. At the Russian embassy. Are you from Russia?”
