Page 33 of Sweet Silver Bells
Rational, he could be rational.
“Right, the police station it is.”
But even as he said it, he knew he wouldn’t.
She wasn't from 1914. It was impossible. Some sort of physics law would have to be broken. She had lost her memory, her mind.
So have you.
They drove in silence, and whenever Hunter pulled his eyes off the road, allowing himself seconds of peering at Olivia, the very real woman who sat near naked in his passenger seat, he smiled. She was enraptured with the world outside her window, looking at every streetlight, every building that they passed with complete wonderment. With the heater on, color flushed back into her milky-white skin, a porcelain doll that had been lost inthe woods, now with a glow, a vibrant pink hue on her lips, her cheeks, and down her neck.
Hunter forced his gaze back onto the road, but it was so hard to look away, so hard not to be enraptured with her. Any control he had was slipping. He would soon be putty under that terrifying gaze that she had—that gaze could control him. Perhaps already had.
No, that's crazy. There's no such thing as sirens.
“What will happen to me?” Her words were soft, hesitant. She looked at him, her chin turning over her shoulder while she kept her body wound together, her legs tucked into her chest, the seatbelt pushing against her hips, creating cute ripples and pinches in her skin. “The police will lock me up. I will be in a cage as they poke me, laugh at me. Look at the witch.”
Hunter blinked, not expecting such sad words when her face was still in awe, as she still pointed and whispered to herself when they drove by a Christmas tree farm.
“They call them cells now. Did they use cages back then? Why would they lock you up? They will help you.”
“How? How would they help me?”
Hunter turned left, driving further into town.
“Maybe they could find your family. Find someone that you know.”
“I am over one hundred years old. I don’t have any family. I’ve murdered my own father. I am not a child. They will put me on the street. Then, I walk back to my trees, back to my forest.”
Fair.
Rational decisions were for the weak anyway.
Hunter flipped the car around in a U-turn, the wheels skidding on some ice on the road. Olivia let out a squeal, one that seemed equal parts thrilled and surprised, judging by the way her hands gripped the ceiling of the car, by the way her face lit up, her teeth dazzled behind her lips. Hunter’s erratic driving,his discovery of Olivia’s hidden need for thrill-seeking so close to the police station in the dark hours of the morning, attracted a flash of lights, blue and red, in his rearview mirror.
Of course. I guess the police will find us.
Hunter could imagine the texts from Sadie now.
What did you do on the first day of winter break?
I spent it in a jail cell because I was driving like a psychopath with a nude, battered woman in my driver's seat.
Getting out of this seemed pretty unlikely.
“I have to pull over. That is the police.” Hunter said.
“You’re upset,” she said.
“This isn’t good,” he said, putting his foot on the brake, his tire hitting the curb on the sidewalk.
“I can kill him,” she offered as the policeman got out of his vehicle, the sound of his boots crunching on ice and slush.
“Please don’t,” Hunter said, reaching over Olivia, who watched his hand like it was a snake that could bite her. He opened the glove compartment, taking out his registration.
“Why not?” Olivia was undoubtedly offended that he didn’t take her up on her generous offer, crossing her arms in front of her chest, her bottom lip pouting.
He paid too much attention to that bottom lip, remembering what it felt like against his.
