fingers through my gloves as I used what little strength I had left trying to open the doors. Luckily I was dressed for the part of a snow trekker, and the only part of my body that was cold was my cheeks. I pushed again, but I still couldn’t open it. I was out in the open and if whoever had followed us could see me, I might be in trouble. I walked around the large structure and sat in the snow. I wasn’t able to see the fence where I’d come in, so I assumed that whoever followed us couldn’t see me, either. I was safe for a while.
Sitting there alone did nothing to ease my mind about the odd situation I’d gotten myself into. The longer I sat there, the more I worried. Any normal person would have questioned the hell out of a stranger who asked them to take him to a cemetery while he is covered in a quilt so the sun didn’t touch him. I chuckled as I sat there and thought back to the good doctor’s comments about how I didn’t react normally to situations. That was why I had been kept for three weeks instead of seventy-two hours as originally planned. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was a whack job and I was imagining everything so I didn’t have to deal with my parents’ accident, but that remedy was too easy. This had to be real. My cheeks stung from the cold, my hands shook with anticipation, and my stomach rolled in fear all as my head seemed to float above me. I fought back tears for so long that I didn’t hear him when he walked up to me. I jumped just as I realized it was the guy who wouldn’t give me his name.
Chapter 6
----
“I dream awake, Papa.” —Hélène
“Yes, my dear, and what do those dreams show you?” —Papa
----
“Are you real?” I asked dreamily. I had sat there for what seemed to be forever and hadn’t noticed anything around me.
He looked confused, his brow furrowed and his pale lips bent downward into a small frown; his lips looked pink. He reached out as if to touch me, then pulled back his hand just before it connected with my cheek, prompting me to frown as well.
“You have been in the cold too long. Let’s get you home.”
He stood up, giving me room to stand as well. As my body creaked and cracked into a standing position, a wave of dizziness hit me, causing me to sway.
“Maybe you should rest for awhile before we head back; you aren’t steady on your feet.” He motioned for me to follow.
Once inside the mausoleum, I was suddenly aware the quilt was no longer acting as a robe for him.
“The quilt is gone,” I whispered. Why did he need it then, but not now?
He tilted his head in my direction. His jet black hair fell carelessly over his eyes, and a chilling breeze blew his wintery cool scent in my direction. There was a coffin and an empty space for another in the middle of the stone floor. The walls were brown and dusty, and it smelled a lot better than I had expected. I guess when people turn to ash there is no more scent. In a corner, his cooler and backpack were placed neatly against the stone wall. It was odd there was nothing else there for him, like a blanket or a place to cook food.
“Sit over there,” he said, and pointed to where he placed the quilt.
I plopped on the floor still in a daze, my legs wobbly and weak. I wanted to touch him to prove to myself he was real, but I was too nervous. He stood at the other end of the small room and stared at me like he wanted to say something important. I gave him a few more seconds to get it out, but when he didn’t say anything, I spoke instead.
“Why won’t you touch me?” I was instantly mortified by how needy my words sounded and by the look of shock on his face. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then tried again. “Why do you treat me like I have a disease?” Well, that sounded much better. Way to go, Ella. Let’s see if you can make this situation even more awkward than it already is.
I opened my eyes, resigned to feeling like a neglected child. He looked at me with what seemed like
Sitting there alone did nothing to ease my mind about the odd situation I’d gotten myself into. The longer I sat there, the more I worried. Any normal person would have questioned the hell out of a stranger who asked them to take him to a cemetery while he is covered in a quilt so the sun didn’t touch him. I chuckled as I sat there and thought back to the good doctor’s comments about how I didn’t react normally to situations. That was why I had been kept for three weeks instead of seventy-two hours as originally planned. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was a whack job and I was imagining everything so I didn’t have to deal with my parents’ accident, but that remedy was too easy. This had to be real. My cheeks stung from the cold, my hands shook with anticipation, and my stomach rolled in fear all as my head seemed to float above me. I fought back tears for so long that I didn’t hear him when he walked up to me. I jumped just as I realized it was the guy who wouldn’t give me his name.
Chapter 6
----
“I dream awake, Papa.” —Hélène
“Yes, my dear, and what do those dreams show you?” —Papa
----
“Are you real?” I asked dreamily. I had sat there for what seemed to be forever and hadn’t noticed anything around me.
He looked confused, his brow furrowed and his pale lips bent downward into a small frown; his lips looked pink. He reached out as if to touch me, then pulled back his hand just before it connected with my cheek, prompting me to frown as well.
“You have been in the cold too long. Let’s get you home.”
He stood up, giving me room to stand as well. As my body creaked and cracked into a standing position, a wave of dizziness hit me, causing me to sway.
“Maybe you should rest for awhile before we head back; you aren’t steady on your feet.” He motioned for me to follow.
Once inside the mausoleum, I was suddenly aware the quilt was no longer acting as a robe for him.
“The quilt is gone,” I whispered. Why did he need it then, but not now?
He tilted his head in my direction. His jet black hair fell carelessly over his eyes, and a chilling breeze blew his wintery cool scent in my direction. There was a coffin and an empty space for another in the middle of the stone floor. The walls were brown and dusty, and it smelled a lot better than I had expected. I guess when people turn to ash there is no more scent. In a corner, his cooler and backpack were placed neatly against the stone wall. It was odd there was nothing else there for him, like a blanket or a place to cook food.
“Sit over there,” he said, and pointed to where he placed the quilt.
I plopped on the floor still in a daze, my legs wobbly and weak. I wanted to touch him to prove to myself he was real, but I was too nervous. He stood at the other end of the small room and stared at me like he wanted to say something important. I gave him a few more seconds to get it out, but when he didn’t say anything, I spoke instead.
“Why won’t you touch me?” I was instantly mortified by how needy my words sounded and by the look of shock on his face. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then tried again. “Why do you treat me like I have a disease?” Well, that sounded much better. Way to go, Ella. Let’s see if you can make this situation even more awkward than it already is.
I opened my eyes, resigned to feeling like a neglected child. He looked at me with what seemed like
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