Fledgling

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Fledgling Page 37

by Tabatha Palomo

Chapter Thirty Six

  “When will I see you again?” Austin asked, not feeling the need to say goodbye. She never could get rid of the chaos dragons in her life, it seemed.

  “We’ll visit,” Jess promised. Mr. Smith nodded in agreement, “Or you could. We’ll be here keeping the cabin warm.”

  She took a bite out of the chocolate and bananas on toast that Dustin had made for her. She licked off what had gotten on her fingers, “When do we leave, Dustin?”

  “As soon as you want,” he leaned forwards, his chin digging into his hands. His stare made her nervous, “After breakfast would be good, since then I could give you the full tour.”

  “You are not my mentor,” she reminded him quietly. It was not his job to show her around.

  “How about guardian?”

  “No.”

  “Brother?” he asked with less hope than Austin had expected. Did he not want to go back to their old arrangement? That was fine with her, but surprising.

  “No,” she crossed her arms. Dustin seemed relieved.

  “Friend?” he was much more eager with this suggestion, but not crushed when Austin shook her head, “Fine, how about a guide?”

  “A guide?” she said, the word strange on her tongue. One who shows the way by leading, directing, or advising, “As if you could be one.”

  Dustin must have known that the definition had run through her mind, and he had his own to share, “To accompany a person to show points of interest and to explain their meaning or significance. I can do that.”

  “You’re going to be my tour guide?” she raised her eyebrows, doubtful.

  He grinned, “Yeah, that and I’ll hook you up with a waitressing gig in one of the coolest bars in Boston.”

  “I’m not old enough to work in a bar,” she pointed out. Dustin dug something out of his coat pocket and slid it towards her. She picked up the thin square of plastic and stared at her picture, which was only slightly unflattering, “When did you find the time to make me a fake ID?”

  “Jess did that,” he shrugged, “I think this was before you two met.”

  “In the bookstore. I met her when Kai was taking me on a tour.”

  “Hah, no. No you didn’t,” he said.

  “Yeah. I did,” she argued, wondering why he was even debating the issue.

  “No, you met after you saved Jess from getting raped,” Dustin’s eyes went cold, “By some guy named Davey. No one will be seeing him for awhile.”

  “You killed Davey?” she said. She didn’t know how to feel about that. She hated the fact that he killed people, yes. But she wasn’t a good person. She didn’t feel sad for Davey, or angry that he wasn’t alive.

  She wasn’t that good.

  “Maybe. Are you upset?” he asked worriedly.

  “No,” Austin admitted, “But I don’t remember seeing Jess before the bookstore.”

  “There’s a lot of things that you don’t remember out that night,” Dustin grimaced, “Sorry about that.”

  “You wiped my memory?” she glared at him. He held up his hands in surrender.

  “Sorry!” he said again, making a move towards her, “Do you want to remember?”

  “I don’t like having things taken from me without my permission,” she sniffed, turning her head away. That was low, even for him, “Did I ever see you that night?”

  “No, only Jess. I came to clean up her mess. I left my signature behind on a piece of paper,” he said. Austin let out a breath. For some odd reason, that made it better. It was just really low when he hid himself from her.

  “I don’t need to remember,” she waved him off, standing up, “As long as there’s nothing else that you’re keeping me?”

  “There’s not,” he promised, and she found herself nodding. She believed that. Dustin pinned a small button to her shirt, printed with a familiar symbol that looked like a cross between a chair, g, j, and capital C. Hadn’t that been on the not that Dustin left behind? “What does it mean?”

  Dustin’s lips curled into a smile as he answered, soft and gentle.

  “It means safe.”

  He brought her to a large wooden door that Austin had barely noticed and opened it, showing nothing but wall space. He pushed Austin through it and she gasped, the thin air freezing inside her lungs, before stumbling onto the busy streets of a concrete sidewalk. It was suddenly ten degrees colder.

  “Oh god, that wasn’t pleasant,” she winced. Dustin appeared next to her, instantly solid.

  “It usually isn’t,” he shrugged, looking around, “Nice, this is near my apartment.”

  “You have an apartment?”

  “Of course. I usually live in this city. Or Chicago. I alternate,” he shrugged, “It’s a nice little place.”

  He brought her to an apartment complex and they walked up three levels, their backpacks heavier with every step they took. He unlocked the door to an apartment starting with the number 3 and pointed at a door, “Your room. I prepared it a few weeks ago.”

  She looked around, dropping her bag at her feet. A plan bed with a gray blanket sat in the corner of the room and a single poster hung on the wall, a poster with the symbol that seemed to follow her wherever she went; the one that meant safe. Austin shook her head and kicked her bag to the floor, discarding her gloves.

  “I’ll make some tea,” she called, “Do you want any?”

  “I don’t have any,” he opened the door to the room opposite of hers. His oversized shirt was twisted, the neckline pulled down to show the tattoos that crept up his collarbone.

  “Then we need to get some,” she crossed her arms, “I’m not staying anywhere that doesn’t have tea.”

  He paused, his eyes capturing her, “So you’re staying?”

  “Only if there’s tea,” her addiction to the drink was growing, but at least it wasn’t as bad as Kai’s.

  “Then we’ll get tea,” Dustin laughed, fixing his shirt. He donned on a jacket that covered his tattooed arms, “Tons of tea.”

  “Good.”

 

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