"No, in the world."
I eyed him warily. "Sydney's going to be pissed if we take off for Istanbul or something."
This got me full-fledged laughter. "Not what I had in mind. Come on."
I followed him toward what looked like the bait and tackle store and then noticed a small building tucked behind it. Naturally, his sharp eyes had seen what I missed—
probably because I'd been fixated on the ice cream. RUBYSVILLE PUBLIC LIBRARY.
"Whoa, hey," I said. "One of the few perks of graduating was avoiding places like this."
"It′s probably air conditioned," he pointed out.
I looked down at my sweat-soaked tank top and noticed a faint pink tinge to my skin.
With my tanned complexion, I rarely burned, but this was some serious sun—even so late in the day. "Lead on," I told him.
The library was mercifully cool, though even smaller than the one at St. Vladimir's.
With some uncanny sense (or maybe just a knowledge of the Dewey Decimal System), Dimitri led us over to the travel section—which consisted of about ten books, three of which were about West Virginia. He frowned.
"Not quite what I expected." He scanned the shelf twice and then pulled out a large, bright-colored one entitled 100 Best Places to Visit in the World.
We sat down cross-legged on the floor, and he handed me the book. "No way, comrade," I said. "I know books are a journey of the imagination, but I don't think I'm up for that today."
"Just take it," he said. "Close your eyes, and flip randomly to a page."
It seemed silly, considering everything else going on in our life, but his face said he was serious. Indulging him, I closed my eyes and selected a page in the middle. I opened to it.
"Mitchell, South Dakota?" I exclaimed. Remembering I was in a library, I lowered my voice. "Out of all the places in the world, that makes the top hundred?"
He was smiling again, and I'd forgotten how much I'd missed that. "Read it."
""Located ninety minutes outside of Sioux Falls, Mitchell is home to the Corn Palace.""
I looked up at him in disbelief. " Corn Palace? "
He scooted over next to me, leaning close to look at the pictures. "I figured it'd be made of corn husks," he noted. The pictures actually showed what looked like a Middle Eastern—or even Russian—style building, with turrets and onion domes.
"Me too." Reluctantly, I added, "I'd visit it. I bet they have great T-shirts."
"And," he said, a sly look in his eyes, "I bet no guardians would look for us there."
I made no attempts to conceal my laughter, imagining us living as fugitives in the Corn Palace for the rest of our lives. My amusement brought us a scolding from a librarian, and we quieted as Dimitri took his turn. Sao Paolo, Brazil. Then my turn: Honolulu, Hawaii. Back and forth we passed the book, and before long, we were both lying on the floor, side by side, sharing mixed reactions as we continued our "global tour of the imagination." Our arms and legs just barely touched.
If anyone had told me forty-eight hours ago that I'd be lying in a library with Dimitri, reading a travel book, I would have said they were crazy. Almost as crazy was the realization that I was doing something perfectly ordinary and casual with him. Since the moment we'd met, our lives had been about secrecy and danger. And really, those were still the dominant themes in our lives. But in those quiet couple of hours, time seemed to stand still. We were at peace. We were friends.
"Florence, Italy," I read. Pictures of elaborate churches and galleries filled the page.
"Sydney wants to go there. She wanted to study there, actually. If Abe could have managed that, I think she would have served him for life."
"She's still pretty obedient," Dimitri remarked. "I don't know her well, but I'm pretty sure Abe's got something on her."
"He got her out of Russia, back to the U.S."
He shook his head. "It's got to be more than that. Alchemists are loyal to their order.
They don't like us. She hides it—they"re trained to—but every minute with the Keepers is agony. For her to help us and betray her superiors, she owes him for some serious reason." We both paused a moment, wondering what mysterious arrangement my father had with her. "It′s irrelevant, though. She's helping us, which is what matters . . . and we should probably get back to her."