to unpack it. The box held junk, for the most part. Stuffed animals, old toys, tattered report cards, embarrassing childhood photos.
I pawed through the layers until I’d spied a bit of red plastic. I reached down, took hold of the plastic, and yanked. The animals didn’t want to let it go, but I pulled out a small, plastic sled. In my younger years whenever it snowed, I’d trudge outside with the sled and spend hours climbing up and sliding down hills with Piper. I frowned. The toy seemed smaller than I remembered, only about five feet long and cracked down the middle. But it would do. It was going to have to.
I took the sled over to the couch and eased Talon onto it. It was a foot too narrow and more than a foot too short for the superhero. His chest hung over the sides, while his legs stretched out past the edge.
So, once again, I got out every woman’s best friend—duct tape—and wrapped it around Talon, securing him to the sled. I also made sure I had a pocket knife in my vest, so I could cut him free later. Then, I went over to the windows and looked out. It was after nine now, darkness had spread its black blanket across the city. Nothing moved in the street below. Only a smattering of lights gleamed in the distance. Now was as good a time as any to go—and start pretending the past two days had never happened.
That Wren didn’t exist.
That I’d never met Talon.
And that I didn’t wish I really could be his Nightingale.
#
Dragging Talon out of my loft and into the elevator was simple enough. We rode down to the first floor in silence. The doors slid open, and I stuck my head outside. Everyone else had already gone to bed. No one haunted the lobby. So I grabbed the rope on the end of the sled and pulled Talon out of the elevator. I maneuvered him over to the front doors and peered through the glass.
I didn’t see anyone out on the block. Then again, I usually didn’t. This was a residential neighborhood, quiet except for the morning and evening rush hours. Only two other buildings populated my side of the street, and the block across from me was one enormous brownstone owned by a guy named Jasper.
Because the coast was clear, I opened the doors and dragged Talon outside. Kelly Caleb hadn’t been exaggerating about the snow. The white stuff went up past my knees in some spots, but the plows had been out, and the snow on the streets had been packed down enough so you could walk on it, if you were careful.
Farther down the next block, a couple of kids sledded up and down the giant mounds of snow created by the city’s plows. Their happy shrieks, giggles, and shouts carried through the still night air.
“Wheee!”
“That was awesome!”
“Let’s go again!”
The kids were intent on their fun, and none of them gave me a glance. For once, I was happy to be the invisible woman as I pulled Talon out onto the street. Still, I turned away from the kids and walked fast, like I had somewhere important to be—and that it was perfectly normal to be dragging a body duct taped to a sled behind me.
The snow and the night fought for supremacy, reflecting off each other and making everything a dull gray. A rare, clean tang hung in the air. I breathed in, and the cold burned my lungs. All I could smell was the thick, wet snow—mixed with Talon’s clean scent on my skin.
I looked over my shoulder at the superhero, but Talon remained in the same position. Face-up, hands crossed and taped over his chest, a blanket piled on top of him for extra warmth. He wasn’t even snoring.
I hurried on and made it to the convention center without incident. Darkness shrouded the massive building, just as it did every other one on the street. I went around to the alley, the one the caterers used for deliveries, and unlocked the side door. I’d go out through the front, and smash the glass on one of the revolving doors. That way, Talon wouldn’t wonder how he’d gotten into the convention center
I pawed through the layers until I’d spied a bit of red plastic. I reached down, took hold of the plastic, and yanked. The animals didn’t want to let it go, but I pulled out a small, plastic sled. In my younger years whenever it snowed, I’d trudge outside with the sled and spend hours climbing up and sliding down hills with Piper. I frowned. The toy seemed smaller than I remembered, only about five feet long and cracked down the middle. But it would do. It was going to have to.
I took the sled over to the couch and eased Talon onto it. It was a foot too narrow and more than a foot too short for the superhero. His chest hung over the sides, while his legs stretched out past the edge.
So, once again, I got out every woman’s best friend—duct tape—and wrapped it around Talon, securing him to the sled. I also made sure I had a pocket knife in my vest, so I could cut him free later. Then, I went over to the windows and looked out. It was after nine now, darkness had spread its black blanket across the city. Nothing moved in the street below. Only a smattering of lights gleamed in the distance. Now was as good a time as any to go—and start pretending the past two days had never happened.
That Wren didn’t exist.
That I’d never met Talon.
And that I didn’t wish I really could be his Nightingale.
#
Dragging Talon out of my loft and into the elevator was simple enough. We rode down to the first floor in silence. The doors slid open, and I stuck my head outside. Everyone else had already gone to bed. No one haunted the lobby. So I grabbed the rope on the end of the sled and pulled Talon out of the elevator. I maneuvered him over to the front doors and peered through the glass.
I didn’t see anyone out on the block. Then again, I usually didn’t. This was a residential neighborhood, quiet except for the morning and evening rush hours. Only two other buildings populated my side of the street, and the block across from me was one enormous brownstone owned by a guy named Jasper.
Because the coast was clear, I opened the doors and dragged Talon outside. Kelly Caleb hadn’t been exaggerating about the snow. The white stuff went up past my knees in some spots, but the plows had been out, and the snow on the streets had been packed down enough so you could walk on it, if you were careful.
Farther down the next block, a couple of kids sledded up and down the giant mounds of snow created by the city’s plows. Their happy shrieks, giggles, and shouts carried through the still night air.
“Wheee!”
“That was awesome!”
“Let’s go again!”
The kids were intent on their fun, and none of them gave me a glance. For once, I was happy to be the invisible woman as I pulled Talon out onto the street. Still, I turned away from the kids and walked fast, like I had somewhere important to be—and that it was perfectly normal to be dragging a body duct taped to a sled behind me.
The snow and the night fought for supremacy, reflecting off each other and making everything a dull gray. A rare, clean tang hung in the air. I breathed in, and the cold burned my lungs. All I could smell was the thick, wet snow—mixed with Talon’s clean scent on my skin.
I looked over my shoulder at the superhero, but Talon remained in the same position. Face-up, hands crossed and taped over his chest, a blanket piled on top of him for extra warmth. He wasn’t even snoring.
I hurried on and made it to the convention center without incident. Darkness shrouded the massive building, just as it did every other one on the street. I went around to the alley, the one the caterers used for deliveries, and unlocked the side door. I’d go out through the front, and smash the glass on one of the revolving doors. That way, Talon wouldn’t wonder how he’d gotten into the convention center
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