She couldn’t finish, and she didn’t have to. I knew exactly what she meant. We kissed again, the kind of kiss that bound us in way that was so much more than physical. I was trying to pull her shirt off when she suddenly paused and asked breathlessly, “You did get something at the store, right?”
My brain was too addled with lust and thoughts of her to fully process what she was saying. “Huh? I got lots of things.”
“Protection,” she said meaningfully. “Wasn’t there a drugstore across the street? Bigger selection there than the other place.”
“I—oh. That kind of thing. Uh, no, I didn’t. I guess I forgot.”
Before Sydney had been taken, she’d been on the pill, and I’d never really had to think about birth control. I think she preferred it that way, not really trusting anyone but herself to handle such important matters. I sighed.
“Don’t I get points for being more concerned about feeding you and dressing you in bright colors than I was about getting you into bed?”
She placed a light kiss against my lips and smiled. “You get lots of points. But unfortunately, you don’t get this.”
I leaned over her and brushed golden strands of hair from her face. “Do you know how torn I am right now? I mean, I’m disappointed, obviously . . . but at the same time, I’m kind of in love with you even more for still being your meticulously careful self, in spite of everything that’s happened.”
“Really?” She shifted so that I could rest my head on her chest. “My meticulous and careful nature is what you love?”
“There’re so many things to love, Sage. Who can keep track?”
As frustrating as it was to be unexpectedly denied that physical consummation, I still found myself basking in that earlier sense of bliss that just came from being near her. Did I want sex? Sure, but I wanted her more—her presence, her laughter, her spirit. The churning hormones in my body soon quieted, and I found more than enough ecstasy just lying in her arms. And when she dozed off soon thereafter, I had a feeling my oversight in not going to the drugstore might have been for the best, no matter what she’d said. Getting her back to full health was most important right now, and I was pretty sure rest and candy bars were the best way to help.
As for me, I was too restless. Part of it was just the day’s excitement and being with her. Another part was that it was still earlier than I was used to going to sleep. I loved being entwined with her, but after a while, I cautiously slipped out of bed and tucked the covers around her. I studied her fondly a few moments before turning off the lights and creeping out to the living room, careful to close the door behind me so as not to disturb her.
I settled onto the couch with a candy bar and watched TV at a low volume, needing to settle my spinning mind. I knew Sydney would undoubtedly have all sorts of plans and deductions that were better than mine, but it was hard not to think about the future. Where could we go? Was there a safe place? And whether it was with Marcus or on our own, what exactly was it we were going to do with our lives? So much energy had just been spent on being together—itself a daunting task—that we’d hardly ever paused to discuss what we’d truly do. One of our outlandish escape plans? College for her? An obscure life in the middle of nowhere? Fighting for the freedom of Moroi and ex-Alchemists?
There will be no peace for you, whispered Aunt Tatiana, in one of her more antagonistic moods. No peace for you and your human girl. This was a mistake.
No, I told her. We’ll make this work. We have to.
How then? she demanded.
I had no answers after staring at the TV for over an hour and was considering going to bed when I heard screams from the bedroom. In a flash, I was off the couch, hurtling toward the bedroom. I ripped the door open and flung on the light, drawing spirit’s power to me to attack the raging band of Alchemists I expected to see coming through the window. But there was no one—only Sydney, sitting up in bed, her screams piercing the night. I let go of spirit and hurried to the bed, pulling her to me. To my astonishment, she struck out against me.
“No! No! Don’t touch me!”
“Sydney, it’s me,” I said, trying to catch hold of her hands before she did real damage. Even half-asleep, she’d apparently retained lessons from our old self-defense instructor, Malachi Wolfe. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Everything’s okay.”
She struggled against me a bit more, and in the poor lighting, I could see a frantic, terrified look in her eyes. At last, her thrashing stilled, and recognition lit her features. She buried her face in my chest and began to cry—not the wistful tears of love from her reunion with Eddie or the mournful ones for Hopper’s sad state. These were full-on sobs that wracked her body and rendered her incoherent, no matter how much I tried to comfort her or ask what was wrong. I could do nothing but hold her and stroke her hair, waiting for her to calm down. When she did, intermittent sobs still occasionally broke up her speech.
“I . . . I thought I was back there, Adrian. In re-education. When I woke up. It was so dark there—I mean, until I joined the others. But when I was in that cell, there was no light. They literally kept me in the dark. It hurt when I got out—looking at the light. Three months, Adrian. Three months I was in a cell smaller than our bathroom here, in the dark. I thought I could handle it . . . I thought I was stronger than it . . . but when I woke up, and you were gone, and I couldn’t see anything . . .”
She broke down in tears again, and it was all I could do to get a grip on my own emotions. I was sad for her, of course. Sad and hurt that she’d had to suffer like she had. But at the same time I was angry, so angry that if I’d known any of this back at the re-education center, I would’ve been right by Chantal’s side—to help her, not pull her back. I wasn’t given to violence or even anger that much, but a rage burned in me that the Alchemists could’ve done this to someone so bright and brilliant, who’d served them so faithfully and would’ve continued that service if there’d only been a way for her to do so while being true to her own heart. They’d tried to break her—not just her thoughts but her very self. Equally appalling was the realization that it might not be over yet, that getting her out of that place wasn’t enough. What kind of mental damage had they done? Was this going to haunt us the rest of our lives, even if she was free? The implications were staggering, and in that moment, I hated the Alchemists as I’d never hated anyone else.