Page 118
Story: Shadowfox
The not knowing—it tore at me.
We kept moving until the streets began to widen. The houses thinned, replaced by storefronts with shuttered windows and flickering signs. Budapest was asleep, but ghosts were awake.
At a main road, we found a battered taxi idling near a darkened pub. The driver looked up as we approached—Will waving, me leaning heavily against him, Eszter trailing close.
The driver didn’t ask questions, just looked us over in the rearview mirror and nodded once.
I slurred a few words in Hungarian, remembering how to say, “vodka” and “more.”
Being drunk was an act. Slurring the words wasn’t.
Will gave the man two streets, a crossroads several blocks from our true destination.
The man grunted, and we slid into the back seat. I rested my head against the window, eyes slipping shut for just a second.
“Don’t you dare,” Will whispered in Russian. The last thing we needed was a taxi driver being alerted by our use of English.
I smiled through the haze. “You’re bossier than usual.”
“Stay . . . the fuck . . . awake,” he hissed.
The driver didn’t say a word, but he watched us. I felt his eyes checking the mirror.
Once. Twice. Three times.
The moment we climbed out of the cab, the frigid night bit into my skin, and Budapest began to spin. I couldn’t tell if the sky was below or the ground above. I vaguely heard Will’s voice but had no idea what he was saying.
He sounded urgent, almost panicked. I just wanted to sleep.
The walk to the safe house was a blur of turns and ducking into shadows, skirting streetlamps and avoiding passing cars. The safe house itself was a narrow brick building tucked between a grocer and a factory that hadn’t produced anything since the war ended.
Egret opened the door before we knocked. I was just awake enough to catch the scowl that deepened as he reached forward and lifted my weight from Will’s arms.
Sparrow appeared behind him, her mouth tight with concern, then turned back into the house, probably to prep supplies or something necessary, though my foggy mind failed to grasp what might be important in the moment.
Eszter stepped in without a word. Her father appeared like a wraith out of mist, wrapping weathered hands around the girl and pulling her into him so tight I wondered how she was able to breathe. Something stirred in my soul, a warmth, at seeing them reunited. It fled as quickly as it tickled my senses.
The door clicked shut behind us, and two bolts slid into place as Will secured the deadbolts. For the first time all night, I felt something akin to safety.
Will’s voice urging me to stay awake was the last thing I remembered as I ceded myself to the darkness that had threatened at the edges of my vision since we’d left the mansion.
46
Will
I’dneverseenasafe house bathroom double as an operating room before, but there we were.
Thomas lay slouched in the tub, a pillow between his head and the wall, his shirt off and eyes glassy. His skin was pale—toopale. Blood soaked the towel Sparrow had clamped to his shoulder, bright red turning dark and sticky.
I hated it.
I hated every second of it.
So I paced.
Back and forth.
Five steps, turn, five steps back.
We kept moving until the streets began to widen. The houses thinned, replaced by storefronts with shuttered windows and flickering signs. Budapest was asleep, but ghosts were awake.
At a main road, we found a battered taxi idling near a darkened pub. The driver looked up as we approached—Will waving, me leaning heavily against him, Eszter trailing close.
The driver didn’t ask questions, just looked us over in the rearview mirror and nodded once.
I slurred a few words in Hungarian, remembering how to say, “vodka” and “more.”
Being drunk was an act. Slurring the words wasn’t.
Will gave the man two streets, a crossroads several blocks from our true destination.
The man grunted, and we slid into the back seat. I rested my head against the window, eyes slipping shut for just a second.
“Don’t you dare,” Will whispered in Russian. The last thing we needed was a taxi driver being alerted by our use of English.
I smiled through the haze. “You’re bossier than usual.”
“Stay . . . the fuck . . . awake,” he hissed.
The driver didn’t say a word, but he watched us. I felt his eyes checking the mirror.
Once. Twice. Three times.
The moment we climbed out of the cab, the frigid night bit into my skin, and Budapest began to spin. I couldn’t tell if the sky was below or the ground above. I vaguely heard Will’s voice but had no idea what he was saying.
He sounded urgent, almost panicked. I just wanted to sleep.
The walk to the safe house was a blur of turns and ducking into shadows, skirting streetlamps and avoiding passing cars. The safe house itself was a narrow brick building tucked between a grocer and a factory that hadn’t produced anything since the war ended.
Egret opened the door before we knocked. I was just awake enough to catch the scowl that deepened as he reached forward and lifted my weight from Will’s arms.
Sparrow appeared behind him, her mouth tight with concern, then turned back into the house, probably to prep supplies or something necessary, though my foggy mind failed to grasp what might be important in the moment.
Eszter stepped in without a word. Her father appeared like a wraith out of mist, wrapping weathered hands around the girl and pulling her into him so tight I wondered how she was able to breathe. Something stirred in my soul, a warmth, at seeing them reunited. It fled as quickly as it tickled my senses.
The door clicked shut behind us, and two bolts slid into place as Will secured the deadbolts. For the first time all night, I felt something akin to safety.
Will’s voice urging me to stay awake was the last thing I remembered as I ceded myself to the darkness that had threatened at the edges of my vision since we’d left the mansion.
46
Will
I’dneverseenasafe house bathroom double as an operating room before, but there we were.
Thomas lay slouched in the tub, a pillow between his head and the wall, his shirt off and eyes glassy. His skin was pale—toopale. Blood soaked the towel Sparrow had clamped to his shoulder, bright red turning dark and sticky.
I hated it.
I hated every second of it.
So I paced.
Back and forth.
Five steps, turn, five steps back.
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