“Not school,” he said. “Not tonight.”
We boarded the train with a few late-night travelers, most of whom pointedly avoided looking at us. A few stared outright,however, at Rush’s bruised abdomen and bleeding wrists visible beneath the too-small jacket.
When we entered the dark foyer of the townhome, the acrid smell of soot welcomed us.
Vanya busied herself with the lights, and I hurried downstairs to fetch a few clean towels and oil for his wounds. I checked his upstairs bath, but I couldn’t find the magical healing ointment we’d used weeks ago. So I grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the sideboard in the drawing room and met Rush in the foyer, where he was slumped against the wall on the bench beneath a portrait of his grandfather. I doused a hand towel with whiskey and pulled one of his wrists toward me. I hesitated before touching his skin.
“I couldn’t find the other stuff,” I said, knowing he’d understand.
“I used it up a while ago.” He pressed my hand down over his wound and hissed. I dabbed at the wound, then proceeded to the next, twitching each time he grunted in pain. When I was finished, he exhaled and leaned back against the wall. I stood and turned half aside so I wouldn’t stare at him. Vanya was hovering in the doorway, watching with concern.
“Thank you,” Rush breathed, his head tipped back.
I huffed, thinking of what my brother had said about him. “What else can I do? Are you hungry?”
“Famished.” He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to stand. I helped, but he waved me away. “But I need a bath first.”
I blushed violently. “I’ll find us something to eat. Vanya, come on.” Then I paused. “Do you…need help getting upstairs?”
The edges of his mouth tipped up, and that lazy smirk had everything inside me unraveling. “I’m not sure which would be worse, admitting I can’t do it or not watching you blush scarlet as you help me up those steps.”
“You can get yourself up those steps.” I tossed the whiskey- and blood-stained towel at him. He caught it, but a faint wince flickered across his face.
He chuckled and hobbled toward the stairs. I watched him take five steps before I rolled my eyes and moved to help him. And I hated how my cheeks blazed as he wrapped his arm around me, splaying the too-small jacket open wider.
At the top of the stairs, I released him. “Think you can make it the rest of the way?”
“I don’t know. I might need some help with the bath.”
I slapped his shoulder so hard I had to shake out my hand. He laughed a throaty laugh as he limped into his bedroom.
“Looks like you’re making yourself at home.” He glanced at the wrinkled bed, and a jolt shot through me that I feared he could feel all the way across the room.
Downstairs in the kitchen, Vanya stood over a bubbling pot. She twirled through the kitchen, singing a song in her native tongue. Whatever she was cooking, it smelled divine.
Rush joined us shortly, sitting across from me, leaning onto his elbows. For a long moment, we said nothing, sharing a silence that felt strangely more comfortable than words.
His lips twitched at the sides and he leaned back, sprawling out in the chair. His shirt was unkempt, his collar nowhere in sight. “What are you making over there?” he asked Vanya.
“It’s called dal. Simple, delicious.”
“Where’d you get all the ingredients?” I wondered.
Vanya tasted the soupy dish. “I bought them on my way here. Figured you could use some sustenance.”
I smiled, and it felt marvelous. Then a dry sob burst out as guilt struck me. How could I be happy when Myth was gone? “He’s gone. I can’t…what am I supposed to do now?”
Rush rose and ambled to the counter where Vanya worked. He leaned against it, turning his eyes back to me. “He’s not dead. Yet.”
“What?” My hands slapped the table.
Vanya added a pinch of something to the pot.
“How much does she know?” asked Rush, nodding at Vanya.
“All of it.”
He sighed, his chin dropping. “All right. Well, if my father thinks Myth still has his flame, he’s not going to kill him, remember? He’ll want to use his magic.” He looked at me with a sympathetic tilt to his brows.
