Читать книгу Run to You Part Six: Sixth Sense - Clara Kensie - Страница 6

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The wind howled around me as I knelt in the dirt of Lady Elke’s cluttered shed, watching Tristan leave. His shadow stretching long, he trudged across the littered yard without looking back.

All he had ever wanted to do was to keep me safe, but he couldn’t. He thought he’d failed me, that he would always fail me.

But I was the one who had failed him.

On shaking legs, I forced myself up and out of the shed, away from that little house with silver walls. I shuffled across the yard to the gravel driveway, where Tristan stood with his hands shoved into his pockets, head down, as Kellan lectured him. He wouldn’t lift his head to look at me.

A black rental car sat next to Tristan’s blue one. Melanie sat in the back of the black car, huddling under a blanket. She wouldn’t look at me either.

I needed to get Jillian’s ballet slipper and Logan’s sheet music back. They weren’t anywhere in the yard, so I pushed against the wind to Lady Elke’s house and slipped inside. Silent, shadowed and empty. Kellan’s guards must have already headed back to the APR with her. I found the ballet shoe and sheet music on the kitchen floor. Above them, a drawer was open, and it was full of silver. Utensils, ladles, spatulas. And knives. Lots of knives. They glittered and glimmered, sparkled and glowed.

I slammed the drawer shut.

Then I tucked the ballet shoe and the sheet music into the pocket of Tristan’s hoodie and went back outside. Time to face Tristan.

He was still standing at the car with Kellan. “She had a vision of the nightmare Tessa has every night, and then she made it come true,” he said as I approached. “Her eye turned black, just like in Tessa’s nightmare. She said Tessa was tarnished. Tainted. She wanted to make her pay for what her parents did.”

I nodded. I couldn’t disagree. That was exactly what had happened. “What’s going to happen to her?” I asked Kellan.

“That woman is obviously an extremely wise and gifted psychic,” he said, “but she tried to kill my niece. We can’t risk her losing control like that again. She’s headed for the Underground.”

“Please don’t neutralize her,” I begged. “She can find my brother and sister. She was about to tell us where they were.”

Kellan snorted. “All inmates are neutralized, Miss Carson. I can’t do anything about it.”

Frustration and despair roared in my ears. Once again, I’d come so close to finding Jillian and Logan, and they’d slipped away. “That’s not fair,” I said. “Nothing you do is fair. Our lives were in jeopardy today, but you didn’t shoot to kill. You only tranquilized her. If you find my brother and sister, you don’t have to kill them. Tranquilize them if you have to, but don’t kill them. Please.”

He stared at me, speechless. I stared back, knowing my point was valid. Hypocrite, I shouted at him silently.

Then the cool hardness returned to his face. “I am not a hypocrite. I didn’t use deadly force on that woman because I had a clean shot from behind.” He walked around the car to the driver’s side. “Your brother and sister used their psychokinesis to fly Aaron Jacobs’ car off a cliff. They can kill with the power of their minds, just like your mother. They are far more dangerous than a crazy old psychic with a knife. Make no mistake—if I feel my life, my agents’ lives, or the lives of any innocent bystanders are in jeopardy, I will shoot to kill.”

Now I was the one left speechless. And hopeless. Tristan just shook his head. “You’re right, Tessa,” he muttered, “but you’ll never change his mind.”

Kellan slid into the car. “I’m flying Melanie home. You two are on your own. Take a different plane, drive back, don’t come back at all, I don’t care. I don’t want either of you anywhere near my niece.”

He slammed the door shut and peeled off, leaving us alone under the darkening sky.

Behind us, Lady Elke’s house stood empty. The shed sat off to the side, the door off its hinges, walls dented and sagging. As we watched, it moaned, creaked and finally collapsed in on itself in a cacophony of screaming wood and clanging metal. The clatter echoed, and from far away, a dog howled.

“The little house with silver walls is gone now,” I said. “Your mom’s dream happened. I survived.”

“Barely,” Tristan mumbled. He kept his head down and leaned against the car.

“Tristan, I’m sorry.” I pressed into his chest, but he didn’t put his arms around me. “I don’t mean to make you feel like a failure.”

“I’m trying to keep you safe.” His gaze, cold as the wind that whipped at my cheeks, was fixed on a brown patch of dirt on the ground. “But I can’t. Even when my premonitions work and you don’t ignore them, I still can’t keep you safe.” He whirled around, kicking the car’s back tire. “Kellan had to save you today. Kellan.” He said his name like it tasted bad in his mouth.

“I did a stupid, reckless, irresponsible thing today,” I said. “But it’s not your job to keep me safe.”

He looked at me then, just a glimpse, then back to the dirt. He swallowed hard, then whispered, “You fell in love with me because I made you feel safe.”

The pain in his voice and the wounded look on his face made something break inside me. Being a hero was how he defined himself, and I’d taken that from him.

“I don’t love you because of your warning premonitions,” I said. “I love you because your eyes are so incredibly blue and because your hair turns gold in the sun. Because you have broad shoulders and strong arms and you let me wear your hoodies every day. And that’s only the little things. You’re kind and smart and supportive and respectful. All you have to do to make me feel safe is put your arms around me. That’s why I love you, Tristan.”

He said nothing. Just stood there, stiff, and stared at that patch of dirt.

I’d hurt him so much that not even my expression of love could make it better.

“You’re not failing me,” I said. “You could never fail me. But I failed you. I came into your life and I ruined it. You lost Melanie because of me. You lost Nathan because of me. And my parents...” My heart pumped my tainted, tarnished blood through my veins. “I’m Killers’ Spawn, Tristan. I don’t deserve your love.”

At that, he melted. The anger in his eyes, the tightness in his face, the tension in his shoulders.

“Lady Elke saw your nightmare and called you Killers’ Spawn,” he murmured, taking a lock of my hair in his fingers. “She got that from you.”

I nodded, and now I stared at the patch of dirt on the ground.

“Tainted blood. Tarnished blood. She got all of that from you. Is that how you really feel? Is that why you think you don’t deserve my love?”

Shame and despair crawled up into my throat and blocked my words, and I could only nod.

Now, finally, finally, he put his arms around me, pulled me close. “You have wildflower eyes. Your hair is the color of honey. You slide your hands into your sleeves. You pick the green peppers from your salad. You wear my hoodies every day. And that’s only the little things. You stand up to Kellan and the Lab Brats. You’ll do anything to find your brother and sister. You’ve been through so much, but you get up every morning and you fight. You’re amazing, Tessa. You more than deserve my love. You are my heart. You are my soul.”

“But my parents—”

He kissed me. It tasted like love.

“I don’t care about your parents,” he said. “I only care about us. You and me.”

“Us. You and me,” I repeated, and for just a moment, my heart stopped pumping my killers’ blood through my veins, and instead it echoed in rhythm: Thump. Thump-th-thump.

Even the Nightmare Eyes dimmed.

We stayed like that, me pressed against his chest and breathing him in, and he holding me tight, until the sky turned dark and it was just the two of us, under the stars.