He looks at me, convinced it could hurt plenty.
“Just one quick look—only to determine if it’s real or not. Then we’ll head right back home and get started with your lesson, okay?”
But he doesn’t say anything. Just nods and motions me in.
I head for the chair on the other side of the desk, settling in and leaning toward the drawer when Rayne says, “Just so you know, we heard everything. Our hearing is exceptional. Maybe you should stick with telepathy instead.”
Determined to ignore her, I place my hand on the lock, closing my eyes as I open it with my mind, flicking a quick glance at Damen as I rummage inside. Digging past the pile of papers, the folders, and tossing the calculator aside, before reaching the false bottom, grabbing hold of the book, and plopping it onto the desk. Fingers tingling, ears buzzing from the energy it contains.
The twins rush forward, gazing upon the ancient tome with more reverence than I’ve ever seen from them before.
“So, what do you think? Is it real?” My gaze darts between them, so breathless I can barely form the words.
Romy tilts her head, face quizzical, until Rayne reaches forward and opens to the very first page. The two of them gasping, twin intakes of breath, as their eyes grow wide and they take it all in.
Rayne perches on the edge of the desk, angling the book so it faces her and her sister, as Romy leans across her lap, tracing her fingers along the series of symbols—markings that are completely indecipherable to me—though from the way their lips move makes perfect sense to them.
I glance at Damen standing directly behind them, his face belying any emotion as he watches the twins mumble and giggle, jostling each other in excitement as they flip through the pages.
“So?” I say, unable to take the suspense and needing a verbal either way.
“Real.” Rayne nods, eyes still focused on the page. “Who ever put this together knew their stuff.”
“You mean, there’s more than one?” I squint, glancing between them, barely able to meet their eyes under their lush fringe of lashes and jagged-cut bangs.
“Sure.” Romy nods. “There’s tons. Book of Shadows is just a generic title for a spell book. They think the name originated due to the fact that the books had to be kept hidden, in the shadows so to speak, because of their content.”
“Yeah,” Rayne cuts in, “but some also say it’s because they were often read and written by candlelight, which casts shadows as you know.”
Romy shrugs. “Either way, they’re written in code to avoid the danger of falling into the wrong hands. But the truly powerful ones, the ones like this”—she stabs the page with her index finger, which is newly painted ballet slipper pink—“are extremely rare and hard to find. Hidden away for the very same reason.”
“So it’s powerful? And real?” I repeat, needing it confirmed one more time.
Rayne looks at me, shaking her head like I’m too dense to be believed, while her sister nods, saying, “You can actually feel the energy of the words on the page. It’s quite powerful, I assure you.”
“So, you think it’ll be useful then? You think it might help us—you—with your needs?” Eyes darting between them, hoping they’ll say yes while carefully avoiding Damen’s gaze.
“We’re a little rusty—” Romy starts. “So we can’t say for sure—”
“Speak for yourself,” Rayne says, flipping back toward the front until finding the page that she wants. Repeating a stream of words I can’t even begin to understand as though it’s her native tongue. “See that?” She waves her hand in the air, laughing as the lights flicker on and off. “I wouldn’t exactly call that rusty.”
“Yes, but since they were supposed to burst into flames, you’re still a long ways away,” Romy says, arms folded, brow raised.
“Burst into flames?” I glance at Damen. He was right, this is dangerous in the wrong hands—their hands.
But Romy and Rayne just laugh, falling all over themselves when they say, “Psych! We totally psyched you! Ha!”
“You are too gullible to be believed!” Rayne adds, seizing any chance to make a fool of me.
“And you guys have been watching way too much TV,” I say, slamming the book shut and moving it away.
“Wait! You can’t take that! We need it!” Two sets of hands frantically reaching and grasping my way.
“It doesn’t belong to me. So it’s not like we can take it home or anything,” I say, holding it just out of reach.
“But how will we get our magick back if you hide it like that?” Romy’s face drops to a pout.
“Yeah,” Rayne adds, shaking her head. “First you make us leave Summerland and now—” Stopping only when Damen raises his hand to silence them.
“I think it’s best you put that away,” he says, eyes on mine, jaw clenched tight. “Now,” he adds, with new urgency.
I nod, thinking he’s more upset than I thought, taking a stand and insisting I stick to our deal. Until I follow his gaze to the monitor and watch as a dark blurry figure walks in.
twenty-eight
I slide the drawer open, frantically shoving the book inside as a soft thud of footsteps makes their way down the hall.
Barely getting it closed before Jude sticks his head in and says, “Working late?”
He steps into the room and offers his hand to Damen who hesitates, taking a moment to size him up, before offering his own. Even after releasing Jude’s grip his gaze remains focused, unmoving, his mind far away.
“So, what’s going on here? Is this take-your-family-to-work day?” Jude smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“No! We were just—” I swallow hard, having no idea what comes next, meeting his deep knowing gaze and quickly looking away.
“We were looking at your Book of Shadows,” Rayne says, arms folded, eyes narrowed. “And we were wondering where you got it?”
Jude nods, lips lifting at the corners when he says, “And you are?”
“Romy and Rayne.” I nod. “They’re my—” I glance at them, wondering how to explain them.
“Nieces,” Damen says, gaze locked on Jude. “They’re staying with me for a while.”
Jude nods, glancing at Damen briefly before returning to me. Moving just shy of the desk as he says, “Well, if anyone could find it, it’s you.”
I swallow hard, glancing at Damen who continues to eye Jude in a way I’ve never seen from him before. Like his entire being is on a full-scale alert—posture stiff, features controlled, eyes narrowing to the deepest, darkest points, all the while taking him in.
“Am I fired?” I ask, laughing a little, but mostly I’m serious.
Jude shakes his head. “Why would I fire my very best psychic? My only psychic!” He smiles. “Funny, that book’s been in the drawer since last summer and yet no one found it ’til now.” He shrugs. “So what’s your interest in it anyway? I thought you weren’t into magick and stuff?”
I swivel back and forth in my seat, uncomfortable, squirmy, especially with the way Damen keeps looking at him. “I’m not, but the twins are very much into—”
“Wicca,” Damen says, placing a protective hand on each of their shoulders. “They’re interested in learning more about Wicca, and Ever thought this book might help. Though obviously, it’s far too advanced.”
Jude looks at Damen, slowly taking him in. “Looks like I just got my second and third sign-up for class.”
“There’s another?” I say, quickly, without thinking, glancing briefly at Damen and feeling an inexplicable flush rise to my cheeks.
Jude shrugs. “If she shows. Seemed pretty interested though.”
Honor. I know it without even peering into his mind. Honor’s the first sign-up, and I’ve no doubt she’ll show.
“Class?” Damen asks, hands still on the twins, gaze darting between Jude and me.
“Psychic Development level one.” He shrugs. “With a small emphasis on self-empowerment and magick. I’m thinking we should sta
rt soon, maybe even tomorrow. Why wait?”
Romy and Rayne look at each other, eyes blazing with excitement. But Damen shakes his head saying, “No.”
Jude looks at him, face easy, relaxed, not the least bit daunted. “Aw come on, I won’t even charge. I’m new at this anyway, so it’s a good chance for me to try it all out and see what works and what doesn’t. Besides, it’s just a simple introductory course, nothing heavy, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Their eyes meet, and even though I know the heavy part is pretty much Damen’s number-one concern, it’s clearly not his only concern.
No, this sudden edginess, this uncharacteristic guardedness, has something to do with Jude.
And me.
Jude and me together.
And if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was jealous. But I do know better, and, unfortunately, that sort of behavior is relegated only to me.
The twins plead with him, large brown eyes gazing into his. “Please!” they say, voices high-pitched, intertwining. “We really, really, really want to take this class!”
“It’ll help us with our magick!” Romy nods, smiling as she tugs on his hand.
“And get us out of the house so Ever can’t complain about your lack of privacy anymore!” Rayne adds, managing to insult me even as she aims to convince.
Jude looks at me, brows raised in amusement, but I quickly look away, holding my breath until I hear Damen say, “We’ll get there on our own, you need to be patient.” His words final, leaving no room to negotiate.
Jude nods, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as he gazes between us. “No worries. If you change your mind, or just want to stop by and monitor, feel free. Who knows, maybe you’ll learn something?”
Damen’s eyes narrow ever so slightly, but still it’s enough to persuade me to stand up and say, “So, I’m still on the schedule tomorrow?”
“Bright and early.” Studying me closely as I maneuver around the desk and into the welcoming crook of Damen’s arm. “I won’t be in until later,” he adds, moving for the seat I just vacated and settling in. “So if that girl—” He squints, looking at me.
“Honor.” I nod.
Seeing Damen gape in surprise as Jude laughs and says, “Wow, you really are psychic. Anyway, if she comes in, tell her we’ll start sometime next week.”
twenty-nine
“Your boyfriend seems cool.” Jude looks at me, leaning on the edge of the counter, coffee mug in hand.
“That’s because he is cool.” I nod, thumbing through the appointment book, seeing I’m booked for a two o’clock, followed by a three, a four, and a five—and relieved to see that the names aren’t even slightly familiar.
“So he is—your boyfriend, then?” He takes a quick sip of his drink, eyeing me from over the top of the cup. “I couldn’t be sure. Seems kind of old, you know?”
I slam the book shut and reach for my water, even though I’d really prefer a gulp of immortal juice instead. But ever since Roman showed up I vowed to cut back on my public consumption. “We’re in the same class.” I shrug, returning his gaze. “Which would make us the same age, no?” Hoping to avoid further scrutiny by phrasing it like that.
But Jude continues to stare, gaze deepening when he says, “I don’t know, does it?”
I swallow hard and look away, heart beating overtime as I think, Does he sense something too? Is he onto us?
“Could mean he was held back—for—” He smiles, those sea green eyes sparkling, full of light. “Several decades—at least?”
I lift my shoulders, determined to ignore the insult if that’s what it was. Reminding myself that Jude’s not just my boss—providing a job that gets Sabine off my back—but also the keeper of the Book of Shadows, a tome I desperately need to get to again.
“So, how’d you meet Honor?” I ask, leaning down to tinker with the jewelry display. Rearranging the silver chains with their gemstone pendants, tucking the price tags away. Hoping to appear nonchalant, blasé, as though I’m just filling up the silence and not because I care.
He leaves his cup on the counter and disappears into the back, fiddling with the stereo system until the room fills with the sound of crickets and rain, the same CD he plays every day. “I was hanging a flyer over at this place.” He returns to the counter and points to the name on his cup.
“Was she alone or with someone?” I squint, imagining Stacia egging her on, making her approach him, as some kind of dare.
He looks at me, eyes searching my face for so long I avert my gaze and busy myself with the rings, organizing them by color and type, as he continues to study me.
“Didn’t notice.” He shrugs. “She just asked about the class so I gave her a flyer to take with her.”
“Did you talk? Did she tell you why she’s interested?” Blowing my cover as a person who’s only mildly curious the moment the words escape.
He squints, gaze deepening as he says, “Said she’s having boyfriend problems and wanted to know if I knew any good spells she could cast.”
I gape, unsure if he’s joking, until he laughs.
“What’s with all the interest? She try to steal your boyfriend or something?”
I shake my head, shutting the jewelry case and meeting his gaze when I say, “No, her best friend did.”
Jude eyes me, voice careful when he says, “And was she successful?”
“No! Of course not!” Cheeks flushing, heart racing, knowing I answered too quickly to ever be believed. “But that doesn’t stop her from trying,” I add, knowing that was no better.
“Doesn’t stop her, or didn’t stop her? She still at it?” He lifts his cup and takes a long pull, his gaze never once leaving my face.
I shrug, still trying to recover from my previous outburst. Knowing I’m the one who started all this.
“So, you in the market for a spell of your own? Something that’ll keep the girls away from Damen?” Brow raised, voice giving no hint if it was a joke.
I shift on my stool, unnerved by the weight of his gaze, not liking the sound of Damen’s name on his lips.
“Guess that explains your sudden interest in the Book of Shadows,” Jude says, refusing to let it go.
I roll my eyes and move away from the counter, not caring if it’s an insubordinate act. This conversation is over. I’m making that clear.
“Is this going to be a problem?” he asks, his voice carrying a tone I can’t read.
I stop just shy of the bookshelf, unsure what he’s referring to. Turning to read his sunshiny aura, and still not having a clue.
“I know you don’t want people to know about you, and now there’s some girl from your school dropping in . . .” He shrugs, allowing me to fill in the rest.
I shrug too, realizing the list of people who know my psychic secret is really starting to grow. First Munoz, then Jude, and soon Honor, which means Stacia will follow (though she already suspects anyway)—and then of course there’s Haven who proclaims to be “onto” us as well. And the awful part is—all of this can be traced back to me.
I clear my throat, knowing I have to say something though I’ve no idea what. “Honor’s not—” nice, pleasant, kind, decent, at all what she seems—but the truth is, that more describes Stacia. Honor’s much more of an enigma to me.
Jude looks at me, waiting for the finish.
But I just turn away, face obscured by a chunk of blond hair when I say, “Honor’s not someone I know all that well.”
“Guess that makes two of us.” He grins, tossing back the last of his coffee before crumbling his cup and projecting it toward the trash where it lands with a thud. His gaze seeking mine when he says, “Though she does seem a little lost and unsure, and that’s exactly the kind of person we try to help around here.”
By six, my fifth client, a last-minute walk-in, is gone for the day, and I’m in the back room smoothing my hair from the black wig I decided to wear.
“Better.” Jude nods, glancing up from his comp
uter briefly, before returning to his work. “The blond suits you. That black was a little harsh,” he mumbles, tapping the keyboard and shaking his head.
“I know. I looked like a severely anemic Snow White,” I say, looking at Jude as we laugh.
“So, what’d you think?” he asks, back to his computer screen.
“I liked it.” I nod, moving away from the mirror and closer to the desk where I perch on the edge. “It was good. I mean, some of it was kind of depressing and all, but it’s nice to be able to help someone for a change, you know?” Watching his fingers move across the keyboard so fast my eyes can hardly keep up. “Because honestly, I wasn’t so sure. But I think it went okay. I mean, you didn’t get any complaints or anything—did you?”
He shakes his head, squinting as he shuffles through a stack of papers at his side. “Did you remember to shield yourself?” He takes a moment to gaze up at me.
I lift my shoulders, having no idea what he means. The only shielding I’ve ever done is the kind that shuts off everyone’s energy, which would make it pretty much impossible to give a reading.
“You need to protect yourself,” he says, pushing away his laptop to better focus on me. “Both before and after a reading. Has no one ever shown you how to leave yourself open while still shielding yourself from unwanted attachments?”
I shake my head, wondering if that’s even necessary for an immortal like me. Unable to imagine anyone’s energy being strong enough to drag me down, but it’s not like I can share that with him.
“Would you like to learn how?”
I shrug, scratching my arm as I glance at the clock, wondering how long it’ll take.
“It won’t take long,” he says, reading my expression, already moving away from the desk. “And it really is important. Think of it like washing your hands—it releases all the negative stuff your clients carry with them, making sure it can’t contaminate your life.”