The Eighth Guardian

CHAPTER 30

I dress a little more appropriately this time. I’m in the dress I wore for the Boston Massacre, corset and all. The corset was not by choice. I tried to lace up the dress without it, but hell if it isn’t tighter than it was a few days ago. I mean, a few months ago.

Damn.

I’m going to have to get used to the fact that it’s February. Not November. I slide my brand-new charm bracelet onto my wrist. My mom bought it for me. She’s here. In Boston. Staying at the Omni Parker House, of all places, until a spot opens up at McLean, which has the best damned bipolar treatment program in the country. And it’s only eight miles west of here.

She cried when I called her from the hospital. She’s sorry, I’m sorry, and while we have miles still to go toward fixing our relationship, McLean is a start. A twice-daily dose of lithium is a start. My sincerest apology is a start. The joint therapy and PTSD counseling our government is springing for is a start. And the one charm hanging from the bracelet is the biggest start of all. It’s a bird. Not in a cage. Free from the weight of its past and soaring into the future.

I’ve been down this road before with my mom, but this time it feels different. This time I think she has a shot. I have a shot.

I grab the edge of the dress and puff it out before slipping down the stairs as quietly as I can. Two female investigators are in the library on the computer, but they don’t even glance up at me as I walk by. Perfect. It’s as good as empty.

Except that it’s not empty. I take a few steps, my heels click-clack against the hardwood floor by the stairs, and Abe sits up from behind the back of the couch.

My feet grind to a halt, and I gasp as he makes eye contact.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Um, I live here,” he says.

My mouth drops open. “You mean you’re staying? You’re going to be in Annum Guard from now on?”

“I think that’s what I just said.”

“But what about Ariel?” I didn’t dream that, did I?

“Ariel said one thing,” Abe says with a smile, “but my dad said another. My dad knows about the Guard. Always has. I guess he’s a little resentful that Ariel refused to let him join. My dad thinks it’s a great honor, and the physical risks aren’t nearly as bad as they were a generation ago. I have my dad’s blessing.”

“And you live here now.” I repeat the words, but my brain is having a hard time processing them.

“Seriously, were you always this bad at listening?”

I run. I pick up the edge of my damn dress and I run. Straight to Abe. I fling myself into his arms and throw my hands around his neck.

“You’re here,” I whisper. “You’re really here. To stay.”

Abe slips his arms around my waist and touches his forehead to mine.

“I thought you were going to break up with me,” I say.

“Never.”

I press my mouth into his. I’ve missed the soft feel of his mouth, the tenderness of his kiss. I don’t know how long I stay there, entwined with him. For once I don’t care how much time passes.

Soon enough, Abe pulls away. “What’s with the costume?”

“Oh.” I look down at the dress and all of its restricting layers and bones. “I have one last mission before I can put this whole experience behind me.” I hold up the plain brown bag I’ve been clutching.

“What’s that?” Abe asks.

“Penicillin I swiped from the hospital.”

“Isn’t that a felony?”

“Possibly,” I say. “But it’s for a good reason. There’s a little girl in 1782 who needs this. And I promised her I’d help her. I won’t be long. Wait for me?”

Abe smiles. “Always.”

He slips his hand through mine and walks me to the gravity chamber. I enter the code they gave me that morning—seriously, they change the codes around here every twelve hours now, and let’s not talk about how many forms I had to fill out to get this mission authorized—and the room opens to blackness.

I give Abe’s hand a squeeze because I know he’ll be right here when I get back. Like he promised. Like he always will. And then I leap.