But acclimating to normality had taken its toll. I now wanted what any twenty-three year old girl wanted—a boyfriend. No, that was not entirely accurate. I didn’t want just any boyfriend, I wanted Lucas. It was juvenile and naïve to crave someone you hardly knew, logically I understood this, but it changed nothing. I was Francesca, and he was my own Reed Wallace. Sensible thinking was beyond the realm of reality.
I sulked at my kitchen table, parked in front of the big window, watching the darkness beyond my fence. I willed a light to appear, some sign he’d returned, all the while eating sugary desserts instead of dinner. Eventually I gave up my vigil and decided to turn in early.
I was just pulling back the blankets when my pet ghost appeared. I felt a light tickle at my ankle, a sure sign of its presence. Looking down I noticed it wasn’t bouncing around like usual. The smoky impression of its body had gone stiff. And though its face was a featureless plane, the place where its jaw should have been gaped and contracted in a jerky fashion. It was barking I realized with some surprise, I’d never seen it do that before.
“What? What is it?” I asked, completely puzzled.
Its body jerked forward as it let out another stream of soundless cries. When I did nothing more than stare stupidly, it began to paw at me, footpads turning solid. I felt them swipe down my calves, leaving a tingling trail where the claws had scratched at my off-white pocked long johns.
I recognized the warning, something was wrong. But the realization came too late. The ghost turned to bark at something just behind me. I swiveled around in time to see Raina Thompson step off the stairs and into my bedroom.
“What the hell!” I yelled. But I was only partially alarmed, the other half of me was calm and collected, driven with determination. The other part of me was Raina.
She took one step forward, swinging her arm in a downward arc. The needle pierced my skin just below the shoulder, stinging as she injected me with the syringe’s clear contents.
I batted at her hand, trying to flick the needle free. But the world seemed to tilt off kilter and I struggled to maintain my balance. All sound ebbed away as I crashed to my knees. So did the light, it disappeared slowly as if I was tumbling down a tunnel. My body crumpled to the floor. Confused, I prayed not to fall in the wishing well once more.
* * *
I regained consciousness slowly, feeling disoriented throughout. Shifting was useless, I couldn’t move, though it took me a few seconds to fully grasp why. My hands were tied behind my back, more specifically, tied behind my back and secured to the leg of my own armoire. The thing was a towering antique of solid oak. It wasn’t going anywhere, and apparently neither was I.
The grogginess continued to fade, replaced by my wits. Searching with my fingers, I felt for the key to my freedom, the Tibetan ring. It wasn’t there, and neither was Percy’s.
With my safety net gone, I began to panic. I forced myself to be calm, be logical. Raina Thompson had come into my house and sedated me, but from the conversation I’d overheard earlier, I knew she wasn’t working with Beagban on this. A comforting thought. She might be a cruel, calculating bitch, but she didn’t strike me as the torture type. And what was more, if she wanted me dead she could have put something more lethal in the needle.
I’d just have to wait and see what she wanted. I mean, I knew she wanted the book. I just didn’t know how I figured in to her plan for getting it.
Feeling almost normal now I looked around, observing the loft from my seat on the floor. Nothing was different, not a thing out of place. The door was wide open and I could hear noises from below drifting up the stairwell. She was moving around, and from the sound of it, moving my things around too.
It felt like an age before she came back up. I considered pretending to be asleep as I heard her ascend. A strange thought as five minutes before I’d been both bored and anxious, so much so that I’d considered calling out to let her know I was awake.
Her low heels clicked sharply against my wooden flooring as she stepped from the stairwell. They were black, sensible but stark, matching her shapeless slacks. A cat suit it was not, but it was worn for the same clandestine purpose. I could tell by the black leather gloves that there wouldn’t be a fingerprint left behind.
She wore small rectangular glasses. They added a little character to an otherwise passionless face. Her hair was pulled back harshly and thrust into a stiff ponytail. It barely swung when she spared a glance my way. “You’re awake,” she observed.
“What the hell are you doing in my house?” I said with more vigor than I felt.
But she’d already turned away, giving the impression that speaking with me was a waste of time. It wasn’t until after she knocked over a stack of the bodice-rippers I kept at my bedside, that she replied. “You already know why I’m here. You heard me say so this afternoon.”
She wasn’t feeling averse to my probing questions, so I guessed, “You saw me at Fort Frederica.” But I didn’t really believe that was true.
Moving to the end of my bed, she opened the trunk. Hearing her mess with my stuff and seeing it were two different things. Just watching her blithely tip over my books had made me angry. But now she was rooting around in sentimental stuff, touching pictures, leafing through letters. She scanned every diary, dropping the last with disgust. “All emotions and fluff,” she said, turning to look at me. It was like she had X-ray vision, seeing past the skin. “Emotional indeed,” she added with an arch of the eyebrow, meant to convey her distaste. “No, I didn’t see you, not in the way you mean. I sensed you though,” she said without pausing from her inspection. “You have a particularly strong essence. I picked it up from the parking lot.”
I remembered Reed’s warning. He had said Lars would send someone who could sense the book. By now I’d made that connection, I just didn’t know exactly what it meant. Sense how? “Are you a demon detector?”
We were feeling smug. She smiled. “You know what the journal is then.”
Shit. I would not give her any more information.
“You materialized so suddenly into Mr. Wallace’s life, I knew it was no coincidence.”
Her formal use of his name was strange. I noticed he was one of the few people she could address without feeling superior.
Raina bent at the waist, slipping her fingers beneath the trunk. “Give me the book,” she instructed sharply. “I’ll leave here and the rest of your things will remain untouched.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Suit yourself.” She dumped my trunk out, the contents spilling across the floor. Using her foot, she sifted through, spreading the materials by kicking them apart. She didn’t search, not really. Her eyes swept over every item briefly before she moved on to the closet. “You only have yourself to blame for this,” she said while pulling out hangers. “I didn’t really suspect you had the book, searching your home was meant to be a plan of last resort. But since you overheard me speaking to Beagban, I thought it best to check straightaway on the off chance that you did have it. Wouldn’t want to allow you time enough to move it, now would I?”
I didn’t say anything, but it was a trial to watch in silence. My clothes were pulled down methodically, the contents of the shelf above to follow. Eventually I couldn’t stand it any longer and said, “You missed it.” I wanted to annoy her.
Raina didn’t hesitate, continuing her raid. “I sense auras, so I’ll know it when I see it.”
“Inanimate objects have auras?”
“Not their own,” she said in a voice that bespoke my ignorance. “When you pour yourself into an object, it becomes saturated with your aura.”
“What do you mean pour?”
She began to toe open shoe boxes. “Artists pour themselves into their work. You do the same when you write in your diary. Demidov’s journal will be no different.”
“Maybe it will,” I taunted.
She stood crisply, coming close to loom over me. Tucking one gloved hand inside her pocket, I was surprised to see her extract both my rings. “These,” she extended her palm, “are a combination of cheap materials and poor craftsmanship. You might get a dollar or two for them, but in reality they’re destined for the trash. This one though,” she said caressing Percy’s ring with one finger, “this one is special. It’s fairly glowing, vibrating even, with personality.”
Without warning, she took up the Tibetan ring and threw it at me. I flinched slightly as it landed in my lap, frustratingly out of reach.
Raina looked at it with disapproval. “I’ve no need for theatrical garbage, you may have it back.”
“How generous of you to gift me my own property.”
“Just the one,” she said, tucking the other back into her pocket. “I think this,” she patted her pant leg, “should remain with someone who knows its value, someone who deserves it.”
Sure, she could take it from me, but it could always bring itself back.
She waited for me to yell about the injustice of it all, perhaps hoping to use the ring as barter for the book. I said nothing.
She gave up, turning to root around the chest of drawers. While going through drawer number three, she asked over her shoulder, “Do you know how useful it is to always know the value of a thing? Of a person?”
“You can see all that from an aura’s coloring? Who knew human worth was so transparent,” I said acrimoniously.
She missed my meaning altogether. Replying, “That’s an ignorant New Age myth. Auras are not seen with the eye, they’re a flavor. The compilation of a person’s being to be tasted by the sixth sense.”
“And this sixth sense tells you the value of a person?”
She finished up drawer number six, closing it with a slam. “I can tell you have no ambition,” she said feeling unexpressed contempt. I took it she valued ambition. Seeing her stride over, I sunk lower just as she opened the armoire doors above my head. “But you have hidden insight, a seer I’d guess.” Raina swept the stack of puzzles out. They fell, some coming open to spill pieces on the floor beside me. “That would explain Reed’s association with you.” Meaning she didn’t believe that I was really his girlfriend.
With her so close, I felt the subtle change in her attitude. She’d been focused before. Looking through my things had been her only goal, and since answering my questions hadn’t interfered with her search, she hadn’t thought to object. She saw me as incompetent, inferior really, and anything I gleaned would bear no fruit. But now (though it wasn’t outwardly apparent) she was a little distracted, a combination of curious and expectant which I recognized. Raina was going to try and subtly pump me for information.
“Impressive,” I said, letting her draw her own conclusions.
“It’s a rare gift, unlike seers.” She looked at me haughtily. “You’re a dime a dozen.”
“I can assure you Reed pays me more than that,” I said, trying to mislead her.
I hadn’t expected anger, but that was what I got. “I’m sure he only hired you so that he’d have more seers on his payroll than Lars. They’re very competitive.” She slammed the armoire shut with excessive force. “A waste of money,” she muttered while stalking around the room. “Useless, babbling fools, every one. Can’t make a proper prediction to save their life. Not even enough sense to recognize their gift. Palmists working in the nail salon, pressing on acrylic tips while chatting away with peculiar insight, astrologists becoming astronomers—idiots, all of them.”
I’d really struck a chord. I decided to press it. “How would you know Reed’s motives? You work for his rival.”
Struggling for tranquility, she picked up one of my best perfume bottles. Obviously there was no demon diary hidden inside, but she studied it anyway. I wondered if it was saturated in someone’s aura, or if she was just admiring it. “I respect power,” she said, having calmed down. “That’s why I work for Lars. But power shifts. Whoever gets Demidov’s journal will hold the key to unlocking another realm. The potential after that is unimaginable. If it’s Mr. Wallace, then I’ll offer him my services. I’d offer them now if I thought he would have me.”
I was surprised at the level of his influence. Raina’s infatuation, her longing and adoration were extreme. How she could feel this way after seeing his aura, knowing his gift, was inconceivable to me.
“Adelaide!”
The sound of someone shouting my name from the floor below was something of a shock to both Raina and me.
Chapter 39
I was surprised because I recognized the voice. It was Lucas. Raina was definitely surprised because the bitch dropped my perfume bottle. Breaking with a shriek, it smashed to pieces.
“Lucas!” I screamed as Raina lurched for the stairwell in a very unladylike fashion. Her heels didn’t click with precision as they had before. Instead I heard a clunk clunk clunk as she thundered down the stairs.
I strained to hear what was happening below, but found myself distracted by the overwhelming smell of musky rose. Though very old, the perfume had remained potent, and was currently seeping into my floorboards. “Lucas!” I called again. My eyes began to water from a fragrance that felt more like fumes.
I heard a man’s tread pounding up the stairs. My body tensed with anticipation. He looked better than I remembered, and way out of my league. So tall and strong it was hard to believe I’d kissed him.
Lowering himself to the floor in silence, he came to crouch beside me. He didn’t appear angry, or even worried. I waited to feel something as I always did when he was around, but nothing stirred except my own attraction. He was very close, and I wondered why I couldn’t feel the heat from his body like women always said they did in my novels.
With his hand on my shoulder, Lucas leaned me forward so he could reach around and untie me. We were wrapped around each other, and it felt something like a hug. I took the opportunity to discreetly sniff his chest, though all I smelled was rank perfume.
He still hadn’t said anything, and though I knew he was a man of few words, I found this disconcerting. Then I remembered what he must think—that I was someone else’s girlfriend, so I rushed to explain. “That guy you saw me with isn’t my boyfriend we only pretend to date so I have an excuse to be at his work functions really he hired me to snoop around which sounds crazy I know but I’m actually pretty good at it.”
My hands came free. Lucas moved to sit back on his heels, still unconcerned in appearance. I stared at my wrists as I rubbed them, self-conscious now that he was looking me in the eye. I’d been talking too fast, looking quite unsophisticated. So I said more slowly, “I just wanted to tell you that in case you were wondering.”
“Actually,” his voice was deep but deceptively quiet, “I was wondering if you just got robbed.” He pulled a folded sheet of soggy paper from his back pocket. “But I did get your note.”
I cringed, trying to recall exactly what I had written.
“I wasn’t avoiding you,” he explained. “I’ve been out of town.”
“Oh,” I said dully.
“But you were right, I was brooding.”
“Oh?” I repeated, but with a bit more perk.
I wanted him to expound on the brooding comment, but much to my disappointment, he glanced around and asked, “Do you want help cleaning up?”
I didn’t really feel comfortable with him seeing everything I owned, especially not before I convinced him I was good girlfriend material. But I was afraid a refusal would result in his departure, so I said yes.
He pulled my trunk upright. “What happened?”
I began to fill it haphazardly. “I guess I did get robbed.”
Looking around the loft, Lucas said, “The place looks ransacked, not robbed. Is anything actually missing?”
I began the tedious task of rehanging my clothes. “Nothing I can’t get back, but then, she didn’t
really get what she came for.”
“The woman I saw running out the front door did this?” He sounded skeptical.
I turned to find him looking rather intrigued, but not by the idea of a female starched-suit-wearing burglar. He was intrigued by the pile of romance novels he’d been stacking, one book in particular.
In a flash I had it out of his hands, mumbling something vague about historical books that belonged to someone else. “Would you mind getting the broom?” I gestured to the broken bottle. “I need to clean up the glass.” The second he was out of sight I kicked all the books under my bed, pausing only long enough to glare at the swooning full-figured floozies depicted on each cover. After that I rushed to hide all my underwear, finishing just before he returned.
While sweeping he said, “I heard you calling me, so I let her go, but I should have stopped her.”
The loft was nearly back to normal by then. I paused to answer, saying truthfully, “I wouldn’t have known what to do with her if you had. It’s better this way.” And really it was. Raina Thompson was now confident that I was nothing more than a useless seer who was not in possession of the book. She wouldn’t be bothering me anytime soon.
Downstairs was a mess, but thankfully nothing was broken. The cabinets in my kitchen hung open, their contents disrupted, but nothing had been dropped or destroyed. Cushions were pulled up, the couch itself sat askew, but it hadn’t been ripped open like in the movies.
It occurred to me that Raina had searched my room last, waiting until I was awake. And then she’d been rougher with my things than her form of searching required. It was a ploy meant to distress me into disclosing the location of the book—the clever harpy.
Too soon tidying the downstairs was done. Lucas had just returned the broom to its closet and we stood awkwardly in the kitchen. Just to fill the silence I said, “Thanks for helping, and not just with the cleaning either. If it wasn’t for you I’d probably still be tied up in my bedroom.”
Uninterested in praise, he asked, “Are you going to be alright here alone?”
I shrugged. “I doubt she’ll come back.”
“You can always stay at my place.”