Chapter Four #3
“The place with all the yellow tape?” Lucy said.
“That’s the one,” Pallas said. “It’s one of the safest places on campus. Meet me there at six, and I’ll tell you why. And I’ll tell you anything else I can, too.
“Oh, and Lucy?” Pallas said. “I understand you may not have much say in this. But try not to be followed.”
“I feel like this is pushing it,” Lucy said. “Semantically speaking.”
“Semantically speaking, you’re doing exactly what she told you to do,” Natalie said. “She said ‘Try not to be followed.’ You’re literally trying to stop me from following you. You can proceed guilt-free.”
“I don’t know if my guilt is what matters here,” Lucy said.
Natalie offered one of her breezy shrugs. “Ms. Pallas Radio will survive. If she wanted me to trust her, she shouldn’t have had you meet her all the way out here.”
The Interfaith Triangle lay just ahead, a glittering arrangement of concrete and glass in the golden-hour sun.
The structures, one Jewish, one Catholic, and one Protestant, were beautiful.
But even from this distance, it was easy to tell that they were long empty.
According to Lucy’s orientation tour, various services were being held in the student center while each building was having its roof replaced, but it didn’t appear to be much of a priority.
The heavy machinery, parked by the drained reflecting pool, looked dusty.
The fluttering NO ENTRY tape was flecked with dirt.
“You should keep your distance, in any case,” Lucy whispered. “She seems—cautious.”
“Well…I get that. But there’s cautious, and there’s cloak-and-dagger bullshit.” Natalie slowed, turning toward a wide-trunked tree to their left. “I’ll wait here out of sight. I should be close enough to see if anything goes wrong, but maybe we need a code word if something seems off.”
“Natalie…” Lucy faltered. “You really don’t have to do this.”
Natalie blinked. Somehow, in all the chaos of the day, she’d had time to put on her false eyelashes. “This happened to you at my party,” she said.
“That doesn’t make it your responsibility,” Lucy said.
“Oh, I know.” Natalie offered one of her breezy shrugs. “But I feel like the Middle Ages had it right about hospitality. If someone eats your food, they should be safe in your home. Dorm, I guess.” She paused. “If you really would rather go alone, though—”
“That’s not it,” Lucy said. She wasn’t sure why she was getting flustered. It wasn’t like she hadn’t had friends in high school. But they’d been so young then. Young enough that it was still scary, the idea of having someone else rely on them.
However, Natalie wanted to be relied on. That much, in the past few days, had been made clear.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Lucy finally said.
“Well, good,” Natalie said. “Because I’m here for whatever you need. Unless it’s manual labor, obviously. This may shock you, but I don’t lift.” She cast a wary eye ahead, and added, “I’ll hang back here. If something goes wrong, the code word is Warsaw. Or you could scream, I guess.”
Lucy shot Natalie a look and did something with her lips, genuinely unsure if the end result was a smile or a grimace. And as she went on ahead, Natalie slid behind the tree and fully out of sight.
The NO ENTRY tape snapped in the breeze, a crooked finger. “Okay,” Lucy breathed, more to herself than anything. “Here goes nothing.”
The walkway was cool. A little wet—Lucy could feel groundwater seeping through her shoes. The sun’s curtain had slipped a little lower, but not low enough to worry just yet. Sunset was in about an hour. Plenty of time to talk.
If anyone was coming at all. It was 6:02 now, according to Lucy’s watch. Not exactly late enough to worry. But if Lucy was worrying a little extra right now, she didn’t think anyone could hold that against her.
There was a little shuffle then, behind the Protestant chapel. Almost imperceptible: the sound of shifting weight in the dirt. But the relief of the sound didn’t last long. Whoever was there, they didn’t keep walking. They stayed right where they were.
And Lucy, fully against her will, could hear the twitching animal of their heart.
All at once, she’d had enough of it. If this really was Pallas, Natalie was right: This was cloak-and-dagger bullshit. And if it wasn’t Pallas—either way, Lucy was tired of waiting.
“Who’s there?” she called.
In the beat that followed, Lucy heard someone draw in a slow breath. “Not yet.” The voice was pleasant. Smooth, and low. But Lucy caught a dissonance in it. A strain. “We’ll do introductions when Pallas arrives.”
So it wasn’t Pallas, but it was someone who was expecting her. It should have been a relief. But now that the anger had set in, it was putting down roots. “I understand that you don’t trust me,” she said. “But you can come out. We can at least talk normally while we’re waiting.”
“We can talk right here,” the voice said. “You should be able to hear me very well, right?”
It was the casual understanding of it that sent Lucy’s blood surging into her ears.
The easy acknowledgment of what was happening to her, when Lucy barely knew the half of it herself.
It didn’t matter that Pallas had promised to tell her when she arrived.
Right then, it only mattered that they’d kept it from her for this long.
“I’m on edge,” Lucy snapped. “You’re not helping.”
“If you’re on edge,” they said, “seeing me won’t help.”
Lucy had no idea what that was supposed to mean. She wasn’t in the mood to try to parse it, either. “I’m going to see you eventually,” she said. “Might as well get it over with now, right?”
“Hmm,” the voice said. Noncommittal. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Lucy said. “I’m sure. Come out, please.”
She heard a low breath, and then the rustle of the hedges behind the chapel. And slowly, Mila Rostova stepped fully into the light, grimaced, and shrugged.
Without that bottle-green cardigan, there was no veneer of softness. The casual tension of her posture that Lucy had noticed when they met—it didn’t look all that casual anymore. And low at her side, like an extension of her arms, she held an entire fucking bow and arrow.
She raised it a little, but kept it pointed at nothing. The arrow was only gently nocked, barely held in position. She wasn’t poised to fire. But in a matter of seconds, she could be.
“Mila?” Lucy said.
The quiver of arrows at her hip jolted, just once, with the motion. “I tried to warn you.”