Ghost (Boston Underworld #3) - A. Zavarelli Page 0,15

but him.

The car pulls to a stop and I try to get out on my own. I realize soon after that my legs don’t work. Alexei heaves me up into his arms like a child and carries me inside. He’s wearing a soft blue sweater that rubs against my face with every step. It smells like him. Like oak and cloves. And cognac too.

He leads me through a series of halls and rooms before we reach his destination. I don’t have time to absorb the details of the house in the time it takes for him to open the door and set me onto a bed. A real bed, with two mattresses and a frame.

The softness is alien to my body, and everything about this room overwhelms me. I have lived in darkness so long, and this room is bright. The curtains are drawn back, sunlight spilling across the floor. I want to shut them. To stay in the darkness. But I don’t move.

My eyes roam over the room, taking it all in. There’s a bookcase, stuffed with books. And a table with art supplies. An oversized chair next to the window. Rich colors and cold stone walls. It is too big, and still too small. And it all caves in on me.

I claw at my throat, feeling claustrophobic, but stop when Alexei calls out to someone in Russian. When I flinch, he steps in front of me and frowns. And then an older woman enters the room with a flourish. She gives a little smile and bow, her eyes darting straight to me.

She is older than Karolina. And she does not look at me the way that Karolina did. She has soft brown eyes and dark hair speckled with grays. She wears it in a bun, and an apron covers her floral dress. If I had a grandmother, I imagine this is what she might look like.

“Talia, this is Magda,” Alexei tells me. “She keeps the house in order.”

I frown and move my attention back to him. Because he said my name. And I never told him my name. I’m confused and my head hurts, so I rub my temples. I haven’t had a pill in a long time, I realize. Not even half of a pill. And everything hurts.

I need at least half a pill, to keep the numbness. And the rest I can save. I wonder how many Alexei will give me, now that he knows my secret. It worries me, but I don’t have time to consider it.

Magda steps in front of me, giving me a small sympathetic smile. “Hello, Talia,” she greets me in English, though her accent is very much Russian.

I stare blankly at her.

Alexei clips out a few short sentences in Russian and then moves towards the door. But before he goes, he stops, his gaze drifting back to me.

“Remove anything sharp from the wash room,” he tells Magda. “And no baths either.”

Magda frowns at me, but nods. And then Alexei leaves. I’m still staring at the door when Magda takes me by my hand and leads me to the walk in closet.

“There are clothes in here,” she says. “So you can choose what you like, until…”

I don’t hear the rest of her words. I stare at the clothes but don’t touch them. There’s too many. Too many colors. That claustrophobic feeling is back, so I move away from them, bumping into the wall.

“Miss Talia?” Magda asks, concern evident in her voice. “Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?”

I shake my head.

“Very well.” She nods. “Mr. Nikolaev wants you to get cleaned up. There is a shower you can use, and I’ll be right outside if you need some assistance.”

She leads me towards the door of the adjoining bathroom, but I halt before I step inside.

“Miss Talia?”

I can’t look at her when I speak. I can’t allow her to see that the numbness is slipping away again.

“Is there a mirror?” I ask.

“Yes, of course,” she answers. “I will show you.”

“I don’t want to see.”

The room is quiet. She’s considering my words. And then she slips away, returning a few moments later.

“There,” she says. “I have covered it over. No more mirror.”

This time, I let her lead me inside. The bathroom is large, and like everything else, overwhelming. But when my eyes move to the bathtub, there’s a sense of familiarity and longing. The same lyrics begin to play through my mind. My mother’s voice. Angels in the morning. Four angels. And