The library was mercifully cool, though even smaller than the one at St. Vladimir's. With some uncanny sense (or maybe just a knowledge of the Dewey Decimal System), Dimitri led us over to the travel section--which consisted of about ten books, three of which were about West Virginia. He frowned.
"Not quite what I expected.' He scanned the shelf twice and then pulled out a large, bright-colored one entitled 100 Best Places to Visit in the World.
We sat down cross-legged on the floor, and he handed me the book. "No way, comrade,' I said. "I know books are a journey of the imagination, but I don't think I'm up for that today.'
"Just take it,' he said. "Close your eyes, and flip randomly to a page.'
It seemed silly, considering everything else going on in our life, but his face said he was serious. Indulging him, I closed my eyes and selected a page in the middle. I opened to it.
"Mitchell, South Dakota?' I exclaimed. Remembering I was in a library, I lowered my voice. "Out of all the places in the world, that makes the top hundred?'
He was smiling again, and I'd forgotten how much I'd missed that. "Read it.'
""Located ninety minutes outside of Sioux Falls, Mitchell is home to the Corn Palace.'' I looked up at him in disbelief. "Corn Palace?'
He scooted over next to me, leaning close to look at the pictures. "I figured it'd be made of corn husks,' he noted. The pictures actually showed what looked like a Middle Eastern--or even Russian--style building, with turrets and onion domes.
"Me too.' Reluctantly, I added, "I'd visit it. I bet they have great T-shirts.'
"And,' he said, a sly look in his eyes, "I bet no guardians would look for us there.'
I made no attempts to conceal my laughter, imagining us living as fugitives in the Corn Palace for the rest of our lives. My amusement brought us a scolding from a librarian, and we quieted as Dimitri took his turn. Sao Paolo, Brazil. Then my turn: Honolulu, Hawaii. Back and forth we passed the book, and before long, we were both lying on the floor, side by side, sharing mixed reactions as we continued our "global tour of the imagination.' Our arms and legs just barely touched.
If anyone had told me forty-eight hours ago that I'd be lying in a library with Dimitri, reading a travel book, I would have said they were crazy. Almost as crazy was the realization that I was doing something perfectly ordinary and casual with him. Since the moment we'd met, our lives had been about secrecy and danger. And really, those were still the dominant themes in our lives. But in those quiet couple of hours, time seemed to stand still. We were at peace. We were friends.
"Florence, Italy,' I read. Pictures of elaborate churches and galleries filled the page. "Sydney wants to go there. She wanted to study there, actually. If Abe could have managed that, I think she would have served him for life.'
"She's still pretty obedient,' Dimitri remarked. "I don't know her well, but I'm pretty sure Abe's got something on her.'
"He got her out of Russia, back to the U.S.'
He shook his head. "It's got to be more than that. Alchemists are loyal to their order. They don't like us. She hides it--they're trained to--but every minute with the Keepers is agony. For her to help us and betray her superiors, she owes him for some serious reason.' We both paused a moment, wondering what mysterious arrangement my father had with her. "Its irrelevant, though. She's helping us, which is what matters ... and we should probably get back to her.' I knew he was right but hated to go. I wanted to stay here, in this illusion of tranquility and safety, letting myself believe I might really make it to the Parthenon or even the Corn Palace someday. I handed the book back to him. "One more.'
He picked his random page and opened the book. His smile fell. "Saint Petersburg.'
A weird mix of feelings entangled themselves in my chest. Nostalgia--because the city was beautiful. Sorrow--because my visit had been tainted by the awful task I'd gone there to do.
Dimitri stared at the page for a long time, wistfulness on his face. It occurred to me then that, despite his earlier pep talk, he had to be experiencing what I did for Montana: our old, favorite places were lost to us now.
I nudged him gently. "Hey, enjoy where you're at, remember? Not where you can't go.'
He reluctantly shut the book and dragged his eyes away from it. "How'd you get so wise?' he teased.
"I had a good teacher.' We smiled at each other. Something occurred to me. All this time, I'd figured he'd helped break me out because of Lissa's orders. Maybe there was more to it. "Is that why you escaped with me?' I asked. "To see what parts of the world you could?'
His surprise was brief. "You don't need me to be wise, Rose. You're doing fine on your own. Yes, that was part of it. Maybe I would have been welcomed back eventually, but there was the risk I wouldn't. After ... after being Strigoi ...' He stumbled over the words a little. "I gained a new appreciation for life. It took a while. I'm still not there. We're talking about focusing on the present, not the future--but it's my past that haunts me. Faces. Nightmares. But the farther I get from that world of death, the more I want to embrace life. The smell of these books and the perfume you wear. The way the light bends through that window. Even the taste of breakfast with the Keepers.'
"You're a poet now.'
"No, just starting to realize the truth. I respect the law and the way our society runs, but there was no way I could risk losing life in some cell after only just finding it again. I wanted to run too. That's why I helped you. That and--'
"What?' I studied him, desperately wishing he wasn't so good at keeping emotions off his face. I knew him well; I understood him. But he could still hide things from me.
He sat up, not meeting my eyes. "It doesn't matter. Let's go back to Sydney and see if she found out anything ... although, as much as I hate to say it, I think it's unlikely.'
"I know.' I stood with him, still wondering what else he would have said. "She probably gave up and started playing Minesweeper.'
We headed back toward the cafe, stopping briefly for ice cream. Eating it while we walked proved quite the challenge. The sun was nearing the horizon, painting everything orange and red, but the heat lingered. Enjoy it, Rose, I told myself. The colors. The taste of chocolate. Of course, I'd always loved chocolate. My life didn't need to be on the line for me to enjoy dessert.
We reached the cafe and found Sydney bent over her laptop, with a barely eaten Danish and what was probably her fourth cup of coffee. We slid into seats beside her.
"Hows it--hey! You are playing Minesweeper!' I tried to peer closer at her screen, but she turned it from me. "You're supposed to be finding a connection to Eric's mistress.'