"Go on, teach her a lesson. Let her learn her place," Kaandor's voice teased in my mind, but the spirit did not materialize in the hall.
Tatiana kept speaking, but her words passed through me like a dull hum. I felt a pulsation in my fingers. Cold sweat covered my back. This was bad. Could I really manifest right here, in the middle of a shopping center? I needed to get out. Run away from people, immediately.
Without waiting for Rostova to finish, I grabbed the dresses in a bundle and threw them onto the table at the exit of the fitting room, then hurried out of the store. The faceless, colorful corridors with glass showcases stretched on forever as I searched for the exit. The uniform spaces confused me at every turn, and I barely knew if I was going the right way, but I didn't slow down, afraid to stop. I weaved around the crowds, keeping to the edges, trying not to touch anyone, not to provoke the beast inside.
My temples throbbed harder when I found the escalator. Wasting no time, I started descending, almost running, hoping to spot the coveted doors below, but my hope was shattered by the sign for the arcade. Where were those damn sliding doors? A fire alarm blared in my ears, and suddenly the sound hurt so much I couldn't stay on my feet and collapsed onto the cold, smooth floor. I pressed my palms tightly against my ears until my fingers trembled from the tension, but the noise continued to torture me, muddling my thoughts. My whole body tensed from the pain, and if the building really was on fire, I was ready to turn to ash along with it.
"Do you think it's really burning? I don't smell smoke, do you?" a muffled voice, Andrew's, reached me.
"Neither do I."
"Wait, is that Asya lying down?" His tone was full of concern.
The vibration of footsteps echoed through my body, and soon someone's hand touched my shoulder. Pain surged through me in waves; I shut my eyes and screamed, trying in vain to reduce it. I was gently lifted and carried somewhere. My face pressed into the soft fabric of a jacket, and I inhaled deeply the familiar scent, seeking refuge. "He's here. He's near. Everything will be fine," the incantation looped in my mind.
A sharp gust of cold air revived me, and the maddening siren ceased as soon as Stas closed the glass doors behind us. Cautiously, I removed my hands from my head, tested the now bearable sensations, and finally relaxed.
"Hold onto my neck with your hands, please," Stanislav asked. "This way we'll get to the car faster."
I gladly obeyed, embracing him, savoring the saving calm. Stas was my support, and since I dared not hope for more, my best friend. A perfect title for a man who would never be mine.
"Stas?"
"Yes?"
"Don't tell either your father or mine. Okay?" I whispered, but Stas didn't have time to reply.
"Are you okay?" Diana called to her brother, and seeing me, hurried over. "What? What happened to Asya?"
"It's unclear," Andrew replied. "We left the arcade, and she was lying curled up on the escalator floor."
"You fell? Maybe the hospital?" Diana started checking me over, and Stas exhaled wearily.
"She doesn't need any hospital. She's fine now."
"How can she be fine?" Andrew protested. "It doesn't happen for no reason. Is your stomach hurting or something?"
"My head," I replied dryly, feeling my throat go dry.
"Your head shouldn't hurt that badly."
I had no strength to come up with suitable excuses to calm Andrew, who didn't even suspect that all the beings around him were not human and suffered from problems beyond his understanding. He meant no harm, rather showed genuine care and concern, even if we didn't interact often. I remembered well how kindly Andrew treated Nick and how often he would join us at lunch, making boyish jokes I barely understood. He was always kind, but how to get him to leave me alone, I didn't know. Honestly, I had no energy to talk.
"Asya often suffers from migraines, didn't you know?" Stas lied convincingly, and Andrew easily believed him. At least he stopped insisting on the hospital.
"No, I hadn't noticed before. Sorry," he said, looking at me with sympathy and trying to cheer me with a smile. I tried to return the smile, but the corners of my lips trembled and betrayed me again. Not today, Andrew. Not today.
"I'll take her home. Will you wait for Dasha?"
"Yes, of course. She texted that she's about to leave with Tatiana."
"Tatiana's here?"
"Yeah, she must've just arrived. I didn't know."
"But I knew," I croaked, and Stas looked at me curiously, trying to understand what I meant.
He froze for a moment, as if unsure whether to wait for his girlfriend or not. Weighing the pros and cons, he asked Andrew to tell Rostova he'd call soon, turned, and carried me to the car. Only when he carefully placed me in the front seat did I fully relax, thanking all the gods I knew that Tatiana would not be coming with us.
Guiding his brother and sisters, Stas walked around the car to the front and got in behind the wheel. Soon, Diana, Violetta, and Artur settled less comfortably in the back seat.
"And why are you without the car today?" Stas asked Viola, looking through the rearview mirror.
"We wanted to walk through the forest."
"And how did it go? Successful?" The car started moving, and Stas slowly turned the steering wheel, leaving the parking lot.
"We didn't meet anyone, but a foreign scent lingered in the air near the cemetery. We'll check again at night if Max is free."
"Just as I thought."
"Did you meet that stranger today?"
"No, I didn't," he replied with a slight smirk. "Neither yesterday, nor today. Not eighteen years ago, when Vladimir sent letters to my father with invitations."
"Why do you think it was him? You couldn't have sniffed out his scent well enough to recognize him. It's just speculation."
Stas fell silent for a while, showing by every gesture how focused he was on the road while waiting for a turn to enter the highway. Once out of the traffic jam, Stanislav accelerated and merged into the rhythmic flow. Dusk settled outside. The snow in the shadows took on a calming blue, and when the trees on the right parted, I could see the sun sinking into crimson-streaked clouds, gradually lowering. Stanislav hesitated a moment longer and in an almost whisper said a short phrase, after which no further questions followed.
"A bouquet of white lilies lay by the grave marker."