Then I’m hurrying toward Nonna’s apartment. I don’t care that I’m injured; I don’t care that I’m heading toward the danger; I don’t care about any of it. I need to see her, to be sure she’s all right.
I pluck Edgar from my shoulder and place him on the doorframe. “Stay here and watch the hallway. If anyone comes near, let me know. All right?”
“I will,” he says.
I take half a step back, then I say, “Thank you.”
It’s not just for watching the hallway. It’s for alwayshaving my back, for being the one thing that can make me laugh, for saving my life, and for just… being there.
Edgar doesn’t seem to know what to say. “Yes,” he says. “Of course.”
I knock at Nonna’s door as loudly as I dare.
I wait, my heart throbbing hard, and then the door swings open.
It isn’t Nonna.
“You’re alive,” Eames breathes. And then he’s pulling me into a rib-cracking hug.
For a moment, I don’t quite know how to react. My skin is oversensitive, my body clenched like I’m about to touch a live wire. The warmth of him is intoxicating. My body is cold and aching and he’s sturdy against me. Part of me yearns to close my eyes and lean into him, to accept the wordless comfort he offers.
I pull back and he does the same. A flush crosses his sharp cheekbones and his gaze slants away. “Sorry. I just—I was sure you were dead.”
I cross my arms, if only to put something between us.
“I’m glad you’re alive.” He runs a hand through his hair. “How did you escape them?”
I shrug. “I’m really hard to kill. Even I couldn’t manage it.”
He opens his mouth to ask, but I push past him.
Nonna is in the kitchen. One of the gas ranges is lit and a lighter rests on the counter. “Oh, thank goodness,” she says, looking up from the kettle. Only my grandmother would make hot tea in August during a blackout. “You’re okay. When that boy came back without you…”
My throat tightens.
She has no reason to care. I’m a stranger to her. But she does care—and even the barest sliver of her caring makes me feel fragile. I miss her. I miss her so much and she’s right in front of me. She’s the one whose arms I want to step into, to fit myself against her and let myself be small and safe.
“I’m fine,” I say, forcing a smile. “Everything quiet here?”
Nonna nods. “No sign of the criminals.”
I exhale hard. “Okay. Good.” Straightening my back, I head for the living room.
Aunt Connie stands near the sliding glass door, her gaze focused on the world beyond. Her gun rests on the steamer trunk. Eames sits beside his sister on the love seat, murmuring quietly to her. All the while, he scratches absentmindedly at his left hand, just above his electron-ink tattoo. He has carved small white lines into his tan.
“You shouldn’t scratch,” I say, crossing my arms. “You could risk damaging the nanotechnology before it sets up.”
Eames looks up sharply. “What?”
“Your tattoo,” I say. “It’s new. That’s why you weren’t in the pool. Piper’s still a little young to get inked, so no one would wonder why she would have a paper and plastic ID.”
“No,” says Eames, “I just—”
I can’t believe it took me so long to figure this out.
“Will,” I say.
And Eamestwitches. Like a puppet with the wrong string pulled.
