other side, I had a choice. Follow the river or the road? They veered off from each other slightly, but both headed roughly in the direction of the city's lights. I opted for the road. I didn't want to be anywhere near the river. I would not think about what had just happened. I couldn't think about it. My brain refused. Worry about staying alive first. Then worry about how you're going to live.
The road, while clearly rural, was flat and packed and made for easy walking-for anyone else. A light rain began falling, which just added insult to injury. I kept wanting to sit and rest, to curl up in a ball and think of nothing else. No, no, no. The light. I had to go toward the light. That almost made me laugh out loud. It was funny, really. Like I was someone having a near-death experience. Then I did laugh. This whole night had been full of near-death experiences. This was the least of them.
It was also the last, and as much as I longed for the city, it was too far away. I'm not sure how long I walked before I finally had to stop and sit.
Just a minute, I decided. I'd rest for a minute and then keep moving. I had to keep moving. If by some crazy chance I'd missed his heart, Dimitri could be climbing out of the river at any moment. Or other surviving Strigoi could be coming after me from the manor.
But I didn't get up in a minute. I think I may have slept, and I honestly don't know how long I'd been sitting there when headlights suddenly spurred me to alertness. A car slowed down and came to a stop. I managed to get to my feet, bracing myself.
No Strigoi got out. Instead, an old human man did. He peered at me and said something in Russian. I shook my head and backed up a step. He leaned into the car and said something, and a moment later, an older woman joined him. She looked at me and her eyes widened, face compassionate. She said something gentle-sounding and held out her hand to me, cautious in the way one would be when approaching a feral animal. I stared at her for several heavy seconds and then pointed at the purple horizon.
"Novosibirsk," I said.
She followed my gesture and nodded. "Novosibirsk." She pointed to me and then to the car. "Novosibirsk."
I hesitated a little longer and then let her lead me into the backseat. She took off her coat and laid it over me, and I noticed then that I was soaked from the rain. I had to be a mess after everything I'd been through tonight. It was a wonder they'd even stopped. The old man began driving again, and it occurred to me I could have just gotten in a car with serial killers. But then, how would that be any different from the rest of my night?
The mental and physical pain were starting to drag me under, and with my last effort, I wet my lips and choked out another gem from my Russian vocabulary.
"Pazvaneet?"
The woman looked back at me in surprise. I wasn't sure if I had the word right. I might have just asked for a pay phone instead of a cell phone-or maybe I'd asked for a giraffe-but hopefully the message came through regardless. A moment later, she reached into her purse and handed me a cell phone. Even in Siberia, everyone was wired. With shaking hands, I dialed the number I now had memorized. A female voice answered.
"Allo."
"Sydney? This is Rose..."
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I didn't recognize the guy Sydney sent to meet us when we reached Novosibirsk, but he had the same golden tattoo that she did. He was sandy-haired and in his thirties-and human, of course. He looked competent and trustworthy, and as I leaned against the car, he laughed and spoke to the elderly couple like they'd been best friends forever. There was a professional and reassuring air about him, and soon they were smiling too. I'm not sure what he told them, maybe that I was his wayward daughter or something, but they apparently felt good enough to leave me in his hands. I supposed with their jobs, the Alchemist charm in action.
When the old man and woman drove off, his demeanor shifted slightly. He didn't seem as cold as Sydney initially had, but there was no laughing or joking with me.