Thrall

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Is that mold?”

Lucy paused halfway to the next step so she could reach back and give Jillian Easting’s arm a gentle tug. “There is no mold in this library, Mom. It’s a black scuff.”

“It smells like mold.” Jillian gave the wall, which in Lucy’s opinion was quite definitively scuffed, a narrow-eyed look as she passed. “Do you remember when we moved into the apartment on Hodges? It smelled exactly like this.”

Lucy frowned over her shoulder. “Was that moldy? I thought it was just wet.”

Jillian sighed as she stepped onto the landing of Johnson Library, B2, reaching back to sweep a stray cowlick from Lucy’s face. “Yes, darling daughter,” she said. “The wetness was the entire issue.”

Lucy sighed back, though she allowed it.

It was Jillian’s second day at Rollins, and now that she was reasonably confident that nothing was fatally wrong in her daughter’s life, she’d consented to a tour.

Lucy, in turn, wasn’t sure she had consented to a comprehensive rundown of all the dangers of the Rollins campus.

But to know Jillian Easting was to understand all the different ways that life could kill you.

And strangely enough, it was a little comforting to think of all the much more normal ways she could die.

Jillian, for her part, was settling back into the typical spectrum of worrying as well.

Lucy still wasn’t entirely sure that Jillian had bought the “panic attack” cover story.

But Jillian had, at great length, accepted that everything seemed fine, at least for now.

Of course, the long conversation she’d had with Lucy’s extremely competent and devastatingly ripped RA had gone a long way toward all that.

All of that was likely to change when Jillian knew that her daughter’s roommate had disappeared just before classes began. But even if it was inevitable that she’d find that out eventually, she wasn’t going to find out that day.

And speaking of which…“You’re okay with waiting here while I get my books?” she said. “I just need to have a quick meeting with the reference librarian.”

“I’ll entertain myself, don’t you worry. Although…” The ever-present crease in Jillian’s forehead smoothed as she saw a tall blond figure disappear into the office in the back. “I’d be much more entertained if he stuck around.”

“He’s married,” Lucy called over her shoulder as she made her way across the floor. “And ew, by the way.”

Jillian’s laugh was always quick when it came over her. Like a fish skimming the top of deep water: just a flicker of scales, and then gone. “Your mom is old, Luce. She’s not dead.”

Lucy turned her own smile forward as she crossed the room, then stepped into that office herself. Laurentius and Hiro watched her shut the door as if they had long heard her coming. But then again, she was sure they had.

“Your mother?” Hiro said.

Lucy didn’t quite feel the faint strain in her legs until she collapsed into the chair opposite Hiro.

She was still a bit shaky from Vanya’s final drink—and dragging Jillian up and down the mountain wasn’t exactly helping matters.

“She wants to see that I’m okay,” she said.

“I’m trying to demonstrate with visual aids. ”

Laurentius, standing just a little behind Hiro’s perch on the tufted velvet stool, made a faintly judgmental sound at that. “Nearly fifty years working in higher education,” he said dryly. “And the only thing that never changes is children lying to their parents.”

“You realize that’s a little parental of you to say yourself, darling,” Hiro said sweetly.

“Oh, hush,” Laurentius said, to which Hiro threw his head back and cackled.

“I’m not lying so much as excluding distracting details,” Lucy said. “There’s just a lot of distracting details in this particular instance.” Which was partially why she’d stopped by the library in the first place. “Have you worked out your terms with Dr. Horne?”

“Indeed. As you guessed, it seems that I set those terms now—or my money does, at the very least,” he said. “I’ve convinced her to think of a story for Whitney Fielding’s family. Not the usual runaway story, as you specified.”

“She didn’t say what the story would be?” Lucy said. At Laurentius’s raised eyebrow, she said, “Whitney was close to her family. She…didn’t want to leave them without any answers.”

Lucy knew that there would never be a way to give them full closure. It was one of the things that had kept her awake in the nights since she’d killed Vanya. But they deserved to know that she was gone, in whatever way Dr. Horne could convince them.

“She said she would think of something,” Laurentius said. “I don’t envy her the task. To say a child ran away is easy. That’s what children do. To say a child is dead, and yet have no body to show…It will be difficult to convince her parents of that.”

The thought settled hard in her stomach. “She’d better think of something,” she said. “She gave Sadie’s and Addison’s loved ones false hope. This is the least of what she owes.”

“Speaking of Sadie and Addison,” Hiro said. “Are you still feeling hopeful about them?”

Lucy scoffed. “Depends on the day,”

Granted, it had only been two days. Two days wasn’t much time to cause a lot of chaos. But Sadie and Addison had been starved for years. They had to be out there looking for food. Wherever they were looking for it, though, it wasn’t Rollins—not yet.

Maybe Sadie was still looking for Addison. Or maybe they’d found each other, and they were biding their time. Or maybe…Well. As Sadie had said, in her parting words, she didn’t know what it was she planned to do. Maybe she still didn’t know.

“That aside,” Laurentius said. “When you said you wanted to meet…I thought it would be for the other reason.”

Ah, Lucy thought. There was also that. “The other reason was also on my mind,” she said. “But I wasn’t sure whether to bring it up.”

“As I told you, I’ve only made that offer before once,” Laurentius said. “I wasn’t expecting to be ‘left hanging.’”

“Not all of that was my fault,” Lucy said. “I told you I’d think about it. I got interrupted halfway through thinking about it.”

Laurentius was characteristically unimpressed by that. Hiro reached up to pat at his arm. “You can’t expect her to decide as quickly as I did,” he said. “She’s not in love with you.”

“Yes, well.” Laurentius cleared his throat loudly. “I suppose if you’d like to keep thinking about it, that’s all right. I just imagined that you’d like to complete the transformation quickly, with those two girls on the loose.”

“That’s the thing.” Lucy paused. Not because she wasn’t sure of her decision. She’d talked Mila’s ear off about it all night. But the one thing she hadn’t considered was how to say it to them. “I was hoping I could keep thinking about it…indefinitely.”

“…Beg pardon?” Laurentius said.

“I mean, not forever, obviously,” Lucy said. “But I just don’t know yet, so—I’d like to extend my decision timeline a bit. And stay like this, for now.”

Lucy would have thought it impossible, a few days ago, that Laurentius’s usual scowl could hold a touch of concern.

“I don’t think I need to remind you that ‘like this’ means all the weaknesses of a vampire and none of the strengths.

The sunlight will still be a burden to you.

You’ll continue to need blood to live, though perhaps not as often as a true vampire would.

And considering the number of times Ivan fed from you, the infection will be slow to fade. It may take months.”

“Well,” Lucy said. “Good. That gives me plenty of time to weigh the options.” At Laurentius’s sharpened stare, she said, “Sadie said something interesting, back in the tunnels. She was curious about what kind of monster she’d be without Vanya.

I guess I’d like to figure out what kind of monster I am, too.

And now that you two are staying, there’s no more rush for me to decide. ”

Hiro lightly nudged Laurentius with his elbow. “That’s a lovely idea, Lucy.”

“It’s wishy-washy nonsense,” Laurentius said. Though Lucy knew him well enough by now to know that she’d won. “But…my offer will remain on the table. As you said, I’m not going anywhere. And neither, it seems, are you.”

“What a shame for Rollins, though,” Hiro said with a sly smile. “Your appetite likely won’t be normal for quite some time. Does that mean they’ve traded one bloodsucking fiend for another?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” For the first time in days, Lucy felt a warmth that seemed to come from herself. From her own blood. “I only terrorize a select group of people.”

By the time Lucy put her mother back on the shuttle to return to her hotel, she was already running late. She took her time, though, walking the now-familiar path to the campus radio station. The quicker she reached the studio, the more she would have to pack.

She swiped in, and even all the way at the door, she could hear laughter coming from Athena’s suite. “—think we’re just going to have to carry the cushions,” she caught Natalie saying. “They’re not going to fit in a box. Why are these so big?”

“I got them from some Swiss site,” Athena said. “Maybe that’s why? Like how different continents have different standard paper sizes? Ah, maybe we should leave them here, though. Just in case—”

“Just in case of what?” Mila’s voice. It was enough to make Lucy finally pick up her pace. “I hope you’re not thinking of studying in here. Terrible environment for concentration.”

“I wasn’t thinking I’d work in here…exactly,” Athena said. “I just thought…”

Lucy took pity on her and peeked around the door. “What’s going on now?”

“She’s trying to go back on her decision,” Mila said.

“I’m not going back on anything,” Athena shot back. “What I was going to say was that, now that Dr. Horne’s let us back on the air, maybe I should stay on for a few days, just to help with the transition.”

“Ah, yes.” Lucy grinned. “And if those few days turn into a few weeks—”

“Exactly what I said,” Natalie declared as Lucy hugged her from behind. “Hello, my love.”

“Hi, babe.” Lucy’s smile broke open as she looked to Mila. “Hi to you, too, I guess.” Mila smirked, and bowed her head in a faux-courtly gesture.

“Anyway,” Natalie said as Lucy released her. “She’s trying to give us the slip. Except instead of trying to escape, she’s trying to stay forever.”

“Not forever,” Athena said weakly. Mila knocked their shoulders together—a tiny, bolstering gesture. It made Lucy smile wider to see it. “I just…don’t feel as if I’ve done enough.”

“Thena,” Natalie said. The nickname was new, and Athena still seemed pleased by it. “You lifted that manhole cover and you burned him up like a little ant. And then Mila shot him.”

Mila saluted at that.

“I know. I do know he’s gone, I swear, I just…” Even through all her fear and doubt, Athena had never once looked helpless to Lucy. She looked helpless now. “Sadie and Addison are still out there. And…who knows who else. I’m not sure I know how to believe that the worst might be over.”

Lucy nodded. That wasn’t dissimilar to how she felt herself. “Well. I think my mother would remind us here that we’re never actually safe.”

“Oh,” Athena said flatly. “Thank you.”

Lucy laughed. “What I was trying to get at is—this campus had dangers before you. It’ll have dangers after you. But that doesn’t mean you’re the one who has to be on duty all the time. Go live your life. We’ll be here.”

“If we need you, it’s not like we’re not going to see you just about every other day,” Mila said. “And if we need you sooner than that, we know where you live. Which I gather is actually a real dorm now, right?”

Athena cast a heavy look around the studio.

Maybe the other day, in the height of her infection, Lucy would have looked at Athena and known exactly what she was feeling.

But a few days of rest later, that clarity was gone.

She couldn’t reach it anymore. She was back to listening to the beats of Athena’s heart, and taking a guess.

“Well,” Athena finally said. “Maybe Dr. Horne was right. Maybe there’s still time to do a thesis.”

“Thena,” Natalie said fondly. “Beautiful Thena. If you use your newfound free time to take on another project, I’ll kill you myself.”

Athena laughed, and bent to pick up an armful of her too-big floor cushions. “Then in that case…I guess I’ll see you all at dinner.”

“I’ll help you with your stuff. Lucy and Mila can hold down the fort, can’t they?” With a big, wicked grin, Natalie blew a knowing mwah to the room—and then she and Athena were gone, shutting the door behind them.

Lucy laughed as she turned back to Mila. So subtle. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Mila said. She was wearing that green cardigan again. The one that made her look softer, more unassuming. “How’s your mom?”

“Beset by the horrors,” Lucy said. “But good.”

“How are you?” Mila said.

“Good,” Lucy said. But even without Vanya there, Mila was still the hunter. Lucy couldn’t hide anything from that searching stare. “Maybe a little hungry.”

Lucy had been hesitant to say it. It had only been a couple of days since she fed from Mila last, and she knew she’d taken too much then—she was wary of doing it again. But an odd gleam hit Mila as she said it. An anticipation.

And Lucy thought, Oh. Maybe in this case, the euphoria went both ways.

“I’m sorry to hear it,” Mila said, closing the distance between them. Even when they weren’t touching, she was so warm. “Can I do anything about that?”

Lucy lifted herself onto her tiptoes to kiss her. And as she smiled, she felt the points of her own fangs against her lips. “Come to me.”

And, laughing, they fell together.