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“He didn’t, no,” Mama says, her frown deepening. She turns to Papa. “You didn’t hear anything, right?”
“No,” he says, his upper lip curling. “Why would I?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because it’s your daughter’s education on the line—not that you give a fuck, you selfish bastard.”
And that’s my cue to leave. Making a face at Pavel, who’s looking at me sympathetically, I slip out of the kitchen and head upstairs to my room. I can’t wait for this stupid winter vacation to end. Being with my parents is the worst. Sometimes, I wonder how they even got together in the first place. Sure, Papa is ridiculously handsome in the way that all Molotov men are—even at his age, women stare at him like he’s their favorite flavor of ice cream—but Mama is beautiful too, and I’m sure she had options.
I used to think it was somehow my fault, their constant fights, but in recent years, I’ve come to the conclusion that they’re just toxic together. That their love, if that’s what it is, is poison at its core.
Sometimes I wonder if that poison has infected me… if I’m destined for an equally toxic relationship.
* * *
It’s notuntil an hour later, when I’m finishing up another level ofZelda,that my thoughts return to Dan. Why didn’t he show up? Even if I scared him off, shouldn’t he have called with some kind of an excuse? You don’t just flake on the Molotovs on a whim, at least not if you have any brains.
I go looking for my mom again, and this time, I get lucky and find her in the media room, watching a soap opera by herself.
“Any news on Dan?” I ask.
She pauses the TV and shakes her head. “I’ve tried calling him, but he’s not picking up. It goes straight to voicemail. I reached out to our contacts at the US embassy, but they said they haven’t heard from him either. He didn’t come to work today.”
Huh. Against my will, my mind flashes back to the menace emanating from Alexei yesterday, and a chill roughens the skin on my arms. Could Alexei have said something to my father yesterday? Or, even less likely, could he have done something to Dan himself? I don’t see why he’d do either—I’m nobody to him—but maybe evil doesn’t need a reason.
Maybe Dan is at the bottom of the Moscow River as we speak.
“Thanks, Mama,” I say as steadily as I can. “Let me know if you hear anything.”
“Of course.” She resumes her show. “Your father is already looking into it.”
That’s good. We should hear something soon, then.
I return to my room and play my game some more before getting on a chat with my friends from boarding school. That occupies me until it’s time to go to sleep. It’s a restless sleep, filled with unsettling dreams about black, demonic eyes, and the next morning, I wake up tired and lethargic.
“Anything?” I ask Mom over breakfast, and she shakes her head, looking puzzled.
“It’s like he’s disappeared into thin air.”
My stomach tightens, and the peanut butter toast I’ve just bitten into tastes like sawdust. I know the kind of resources Papa has, and if he still hasn’t learned anything about Dan’s disappearance, there can be only two reasons for that.
He’s either not looking, because he’s the one who made him disappear, or he’s up against someone with comparable resources.
Like the Leonovs.
“I’m going to walk to Natasha’s,” I say, pushing my plate away. “I’ve got a headache, and fresh air might help.”
It’s not a lie this time. I feel a band of pressure around my temples, a band that tightens more with each passing second. It’s an unfamiliar sensation, and one that I definitively dislike.
“Of course,” Mama says. “Pavel is busy, but a couple of guards will go with you.”
I nod and hurry to get dressed. I need to get out of here before my head explodes. I text Natasha as I’m pulling on my coat. She replies right away, as expected. My friend is always down to hang, but even if she weren’t, I’d use the excuse of visiting her to get out of the house.
It’s freezing outside when I exit our high-rise building, the guards following me at a discreet distance, as always. The cold air bites at the exposed parts of my face, but I don’t mind. It’s cold in New Hampshire in the winter as well, so I’m used to it.
Natasha’s building is only a few blocks away, yet I’m feeling better by the end of the walk. As I hoped, breathing in the fresh, crisp air has chased away the worst of the pressure around my skull. Maybe I’m worrying over nothing. Dan could’ve just had some family emergency and hopped on a plane back to the States without telling anyone, his work and tutoring employers included.
Yeah, right. And aliens landed in the Red Square yesterday. Not to mention, my father has undoubtedly checked all the flight records by now and would know if Dan simply went home.
If my father is looking, that is.
