Page 69 of Her Darkest Possession
"So how about it?" Marcus asks again, leaning against the counter. "Thanksgiving. Manny would be more than happy to host at his place, and Mrs. Diaz already volunteered to help with the turkey. Come hungry and stay as late as you'd like." His eyes crinkle at the corners. "Like one big family."
I glance at Anatoly, and try to gauge his reaction. A neighborhood Thanksgiving dinner is about as far from his usual world as possible. In fact, it's almost impossible for me to imagine him sitting at the head of the table in the mansion and asking Roma or Vassily to pass the cranberry sauce.
"And I figure that's also a good time for you to tell everyone else about the family you're starting." Marcus adds. "Mrs. Diaz will be ecstatic when she hears."
"Wait, you haven't told everyone already?" I ask, surprised.
Marcus shakes his head. "Important news like this ought to come from you and your husband yourselves. Not from me."
There's something about the way he says "your husband" that makes me smile. It still feels strange sometimes, that word. Husband. But hearing it from Marcus makes it feel realer and more normal than it ever did before.
I look up at Anatoly. "What do you think?"
His expression is unreadable to most, but I can see the slight softening around his eyes. He gives a small nod and a ghost of a smile.
"We'd be honored to come," I tell Marcus, feeling a lightness I haven't felt in weeks. "Me, Amara, and Anatoly."
"Perfect!" Marcus claps his hands together once. "I can't wait. It'll be good times, good food, and good people."
I step forward and hug Marcus again. "It's good to see you again, Marcus."
When I pull back, Marcus's expression has turned more serious. "Likewise Indie." He squeezes my shoulders gently, the same way that a father might. "Don't be a stranger, alright? This neighborhood will always have a spot for you in our hearts."
I nod, feeling a lump form in my throat. The same is true for me as well. No matter where life with Anatoly takes me, a piece of my heart will always belong to these streets, and to these people who knew me before I ever became a pakhan's wife.
20
INDIGO
ONE WEEK LATER
The pumpkin pieis still warm in my hand as the SUV turn down the street. Outside, the shadows are growing longer and the evening air holds that perfect Thanksgiving chill that makes you appreciate being bundled up.
Amara leans forward from the backseat. "Do you think Marcus will like the pie?"
"I'm sure he'll love it," I assure her. "He might give you a hard time about the crust."
"Then he can make his own next time," Amara huffs, but she's still smiling.
Smiling, I turn to see Anatoly's blue eyes staring warmly at me. He's dressed down tonight. Not his usual suit but a pair of dark slacks and a cashmere sweater that makes him look almost normal.
Almost.
"What?" I ask, catching his stare.
"Nothing." He traces his thumb across my knuckles. "I just like seeing you excited."
The SUV slows and we make the final turn onto the street.
And that's when excitement fades away, and only the bitter taste of dread remains.
The block ahead is bathed in flashing red and blue lights, reflecting off shop windows. Four police cars are parked at odd angles outside the barbershop. Several cops are milling around, some talking into radios, others stretching yellow tape across the entrance.
"What the hell?" I whisper and Amara clutches my arm.
I look back at Anatoly. His face has lost all the warmth that was just there a few seconds ago. And that dangerous stillness I've come to recognize returns immediately as he takes in the scene.
I know he would want me to stay in the car. But I can't.
