31
CASSANDRA
“Relax, sir,” one of the police officers said to an upset train passenger, “it’s not the end of the world if you don’t get to Springfield.”
“You don’t understand…”
We stood in a long line at the train station, waiting to be interviewed by the police. The police hadn’t forced us to remain here, but they hadn’t exactly told us we were allowed to leave. They’d taped off the entire train wreckage and station, and a crowd of frenzied reporters with cameramen in tow stood 100 feet away clamoring to get an interview from one of us.
I was worried what to say to the police when it was my turn to give a statement. Well, more accurately I was worried about what others would say. Everyone saw me come forward with the totem on the train. Obviously nobody knew what that meant, but they would know the totem and I were the reason for the entire hijacking. I didn’t really have anything to hide, but I also didn’t know how I would explain it. I doubted they would believe that I’d never seen Sebastian before in my life, even though that was the truth.
Their questions would lead to the totem, and that would lead to questions about Orlando, and that would lead to questions about how I knew him…
Orlando. After the spike of fear I’d felt for him, the sensation of my mate had diminished in my head. I thought that meant he was safe, but I wasn’t sure. Whenever I tried to reach out with my sixth sense and feel him it only made my head ache worse. Already it was hard to even stand there on the platform without cringing from the pain.
“Hey,” I asked, “do you happen to have a cell phone?”
The old man—whose name I finally learned was Maurice—turned around and gave me an apologetic smile. “Sorry, dear. I’ve never had a cell phone, in spite my family’s protests. Too high-tech for me. Although right now my grandchildren are probably worried sick…”
“You’re going to have one hell of a story to tell them.”
“If I ever get to them!” Maurice scrunched his face in frustration, which somehow doubled the number of wrinkles. “I don’t know how I’m going to get to St. Louis now. Suppose Eric will have to rent a car and come get me, but the entire purpose of me taking the train was so I wouldn’t be a burden…”
I put a hand on his arm. “Maurice. We just survived a train crash. Hell, we helped stop the train before it could crash even worse! You’re a hero. Your grandchildren won’t think you’re a burden at all.”
He tried to cover it up, but I could see him swelling with pride.
I was about to comment on how long it would take to wait in line when my headache miraculously faded.
Clouds lifted inside my head, a thick fog finally parted by beams of brilliant sunlight. It happened so suddenly it was mystifying. I put a hand to my temple and sighed at the relief of pressure.
And then I realized what it meant.
Before I knew what was happening I was running toward the row of reporters behind the police tape. I scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar dark face…
“Move! Out of my way!” A man shoved aside a reporter, and even with his face turned I knew who he was.
“Orlando!” I called, hobbling as fast as I could on my bandaged foot. His head whipped toward me and his face brightened. He ducked under the tape and ignored the shouting officer, who grabbed him by the arm and tried to hold him back, one hand on the pepper spray cannister on his belt, but then I was tackling Orlando in a desperate embrace.
The cop let go and allowed us to have our reunion. Orlando’s arms surrounded me and pulled me against his broad chest. I buried my head in his neck and breathed deeply of his scent, sweat and musk and something close to lake water. He held me possessively, overwhelmed with need. My hands found the back of his head and I gripped him tight, pleading with him to never let me go.
“I won’t,” he whispered in my hair, reading my mind. “I’ll never let you go again.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Good.” I was shocked by the tremble in my voice, like I might burst into tears. All of the craziness from the day was beginning to overwhelm me.
“I’ve got a car,” Orlando said, finally pulling apart to look into my eyes. “Let’s get out of here.”
“What about all this?” I waved my hand. “And your bag on the train…”
“Forget about it. We can get what we need along the way. It’s a long drive to where we’re going, and I want to get on the road.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “And away from all this press.”
He never questioned whether or not I would go with him. Which was fine, because I never questioned it myself.
I put my cheek against his chest, which gave me a view of the line of train passengers waiting to give their statements to the police. Maurice was grinning widely at me, and then flashed me a thumbs-up.
“Can we make a stop along the way?” I asked.
“Anything for you, my love.”