“Well, he’s bound to be somewhere, right? You said that they were heading north, so we’re going in the right direction,” Tarot says, kicking a rock across the pavement. It skitters and bounces ahead. 

“It’s a big city, hon,” December says. “He could be anywhere.”

Tarot nudges December’s shoulder. “Not many places a man and a kid he’s passing off as his own could hide. Lighten up a little.” 

She stops walking when she sees December’s expression. “Uh, is something wrong?” 

December stares at the ground. “Wrong,” she echoes. She doesn’t elaborate. 

Tarot sits there, awkwardly, fidgeting with the cuffs of her pink jacket. “Yeah. As in, not right.” She runs her tongue over her lips and waits for a response. 

December says nothing for a while, just points across the street. Tarot follows her finger with her gaze and stops where December does. 

 
They’re standing across from a crumbling apartment building. Graffiti is painted across the cement bricks; the windows are boarded up tight. Faded paper signs warn people that this is PRIVATE PROPERTY and there is NO TRESPASSING. Above those, another sign with peeling paint reads, “Maple Gardens Apartments” in flowing lettering.

Tarot reads the sign out loud. “Funny name for an apartment on the edge of the city,” she says in an attempt to cheer her travelling companion up. 

December doesn’t smile. “That was what one of my old apartments was called,” she whispers.

“Maybe it’s a chain? Apartment names aren’t that creative.” 

December shrugs, dropping her hand. “Maybe,” she says. Tarot doesn’t think she’s convinced. 

“Look, let’s keep walking and maybe we’ll find something that doesn’t bring back, uh, painful memories?” she offers. An awkward grin spreads across her freckled face. She throws an arm around December’s shoulders with mock joviality.

December doesn’t move. Tarot feels her necklace heat up under her shirt. She prays it’s Anastasia and tries to ignore it. “Besides, if you know the city, that’s an advantage, right? You’ll know more than they will, and maybe August could get him lost, or...”

December nods. “That... Yeah, I guess.” She stuffs her hands in the pockets of her red and white Adidas jacket. “That’s a good thing.”

Tarot decides that December needs some alone time. “How about this,” she says, twirling a strand of her strawberry blonde hair. Her necklace is getting painfully hot now, and she grimaces. “We--I’ll go ahead” --it’s either Anastasia or Roman, from that little slip-- “and find a place to stay tonight, since you look like you want to turn in early. You can... stay here, and, um...” Tarot shrugs. “Have a break. That good?”

“Sounds good to me,” December says. Tarot realizes she hasn’t heard December use a nickname once since they stopped moving. Something’s important about that. 

Tarot grins again, trying to make December feel better. No effect. “I’ll be back in an hour,” she says. She turns around. “Bye.”

December quietly says “Bye,” back, and Tarot walks away, ripping her necklace out of her chest. 

Dark red. Oh, thank God.

~~~

Miss, I think you should go, Anastasia whispers. 

Tarot looks at the little girl in her red dress swinging her legs off the park bench, then sighs. “I should, but--” She shakes her head. “I don’t know what to do.”

Help her, miss? the little ghost offers. 

Tarot buries her head in her hands. “How? Minus the rest of you guys, I had, you know, a decent life,” she says, rubbing her eyes. “Emmy hasn’t even told me half the stuff she’s gone through.”

Anastasia thinks for a moment. Perhaps a hug?

“Doesn’t like to be touched.”

Ask?

Tarot groans and leans back. “I feel useless. I couldn’t even find a motel.” She rests her hand over her eyes and says, “I can’t think of anything.”

Anastasia hums. Maybe going back would help. Come on.

Tarot decides there’s no point in arguing; she’s more likely to agree with Anastasia than any of the others, that’s for sure. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and stands up. “I’m going,” she says. 

Anastasia grins and blinks out of existence. Tarot shakes herself. Hate when they do that, she thinks. She shoves her hands in her jeans pockets and starts the walk back towards Maple Gardens. Hopefully, December didn’t move. Tarot doesn’t think she would, but she still feels anxious about it. 

She licks her bottom lip and keeps walking. Only one way to find out.

When she shows up, December has moved to sit on the steps of the building. There’s a skeleton thin woman standing next to her, and December is speaking to her. One of her other ghosts, Tarot thinks, but she has no idea who this one is. The only one of December’s she’s seen has been Willow, but this other ghost looks nothing like her except for them both being white. Tarot stands watching the two of the them, trying to figure out who she was. There’s no way in hell that was December’s mother, but they seem close. 

Tarot decides to just walk up and ask. “Hey!” she calls, wincing when December looks up. “Who’s that?” 

The woman also looks over, waves, and vanishes. Tarot sighs inwardly and darts across the street. “I couldn’t find anything,” she said, sliding next to December. “Sorry.”

December takes a breath. “It’s fine,” she says. “Wasn’t expecting you too. Not much stuff here.”

“So this is the place?” Tarot asks, leaning her elbows on her knees. 

December nods.

“Oh.” Tarot doesn’t know how to respond to that. “Uh, sorry. Well, who was that?”

December shrugs. “She’s...” She tugs her baseball cap lower over her head. “Hard to explain.”

Tarot tries a humorous approach: “Well, she certainly can’t be your mother, I mean...” 

It works. December chuckles exactly once; Tarot considers that a victory. “No,” December says. “But she was the closest thing I’ve ever had.” Her face falls again.

Tarot shifts. She should try and help. She just doesn’t know how. 

She stands up. “Well... Here,” she says, stretching out one of her hands. “Take my hand.” 

December looks up. “What? Why?” she says incredulously. 

“Just do it. Let’s go find something together. Take your mind off things.” Tarot waggles her hand to make it enticing. 

December hesitates, and for a moment Taylor thinks that she’s not going to do it. But then she does, and Taylor notices that her hand is rough and calloused and warm. She finds herself committing those details to memory, and grins. It’s a real grin, the first one tonight. 

December smiles a bit too. “Thanks, hon,” she says, and Tarot feels some sort of accomplishment in that. 

“Let’s go.” Tarot turns to leave. December drops Tarot’s hand and starts walking, leaving Tarot a little, well, disappointed. It felt nice.

Her necklace’s temperature increases sharply, and it’s Nikolai who whispers in her ear. Pathetic, he rasps, sending a cold stab of fear through Tarot. 

“Don’t make me hurt her,” she whispers, her hands already shaking from the thought of what he’d do.

“Are you coming?” December calls from up ahead. 

Tarot nods and runs after her, Nikolai’s laugh echoing behind her.