Page 72 of Thrall
“No. You should head back while it’s still light.”Ah. Mila was back. “She doesn’t have much longer. Which means he’ll probably make a move tonight.”
“All the more reason to have an extra pair of hands, right?” Natalie again. Lucy wished she could steal a little of that bravery right now. “Just give me something to throw. Maybe something actively on fire.”
Lucy wondered if Natalie, too, heard that odd note of finality in Mila’s laugh. “Good night, Natalie.”
There was a beat of silence. “Tell her she can call me if she needs to talk. I don’t think I’ll be sleeping, anyway.”
Lucy heard some shuffling, the opening and closing of the door. But it was another long few seconds before Mila rounded the corner. She had a small bundle of papers clutched to her chest, and there was a new depth of grimness in her eyes.Whatever I have to do?she’d said, just a few nights ago.Don’t hold it against me. Maybe she had decided what that was.
Lucy’s smile cracked as she arranged it in place. At least one of them had made a decision.
“You’re back,” she said.
“I am.” Mila crossed the room and took up Natalie’s abandoned seat, laying her pile of papers on the bedside table to rest a hand against Lucy’s forehead. “Do you need another blanket? You’re still cold.”
“I don’t feel that cold,” Lucy said. Her temperature wasn’t even in the top ten of her concerns at the moment.
Mila brushed her hair back, just once, before she pulled away. It wasn’t that firm, assured touch that she used to tie knots or nock an arrow. Her fingers against Lucy’s forehead were gentle and awkward, as if unsure of how hard to press or how long to linger. As if she’d never touched anyone like this before.
Poor Mila, Lucy thought.Poor lonely Mila. “Did you find what you were looking for?” she said.
“I think I did.” Mila glanced, once again, at the papers flipped face down on the night table. “I’m sorry. I know you must be exhausted. But I need to tell you something.”
Well. One thing Lucy could always say about Mila: She did know how to make a girl curious. “I’m listening.”
“Okay,” Mila said. No beating around the bush, then. Though Lucy supposed time was of the essence at this point. “This morning, I took the shuttle down the mountain. I had to walk like two miles from the stop in town to this shitty little office building. And I went to see this doctor there. Dr. Harris Thornton.”
Lucy couldn’t sit up very well, not with her wrists tied. But she propped herself up onto her elbows as best she could. “Not for me, right? I assume there’s not a lot a doctor can do for me at the moment.”
“Not for you,” Mila confirmed. “I went because Harris Thornton is one of the only certified medical examiners in town. I wanted to see if he did the autopsy on Jon when he died.”
Whatever Lucy had been expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. “Did he?”
“Well,” Mila said with a grimace, “I had a lot of thinking to do on that two-mile walk. I realized, maybe Jon didn’t even die in the town hospital. Maybe they medevaced him somewhere way down the mountain, and maybe I just wasted half a day when we don’t have any time to waste to begin with.”
“I thought you told me they didn’t know how he died,” Lucy said.
“Jon’s parents told me the autopsy was inconclusive,” Mila said. “But this week—being with you—I’ve been wondering. Was it that they didn’t know? Or was it that the answer they got didn’t make any sense to them?”
Lucy wasn’t sure she’d ever been so scared to ask a question. “And did you find that out?”
“I found out that if you ever need to get information out of the front desk admin at Dr. Thornton’s office, she’s not above a good sob story. I told her that my childhood sweetheart died and no one ever told me why. All she asked for was a bit of proof that I knew Jon. Just to be sure it wasn’t a prank. I showed her a few pictures and emails, a few texts I had saved…” Mila said. “It turned out Dr. Thornton did do the autopsy. He did list a cause of death. Itwasinconclusive. But only because it made no biological sense.”
Mila paused, then. As if tripping on the information that she knew Lucy wouldn’t want to hear. But Lucy locked eyes with her, and she nodded. What she wanted wasn’t their primary concern. It never had been.
“Jon’s body showed signs of severe malnutrition,” Mila said. “He starved to death, Lucy. On a campus full of people. With a stomach full of food.”
Lucy struggled to leverage her body farther up—she didn’t want to be lying down for this conversation. Mila leaned forward and moved to untie one, but Lucy flinched. “Leave it,” she said.
“No,” Mila said, slipping the right wrist out of the binding. “I’ll put them back on later, if we need to.”
“I’m not starving, Mila,” Lucy said. “I’ve been eating, you made sure of that. Nothing has exactly beentastinggood, but Laurentius said Hiro’s clients just crave some red meat for a while.”
“Didn’t Laurentius say that he’s never met anyone like you before?” Mila said. “He’s probably never met anyone like Jon, either. He was eating. He was getting regular meals in the hospital. But he died. So…maybe it wasn’t food that he needed to live.”
Mila freed Lucy’s other hand, and Lucy tucked the duvet against her chest, suddenly very cold. “What are you telling me?”
“Just like Laurentius said. All of the weaknesses, none of the strengths,” Mila said. “Lucy—I think what you need is blood.”
