“Dash stole it from my father. And I confiscated it from him.” He pulls a wary expression at the crystal. “I was going to give it back, but I had this feeling it might come in handy one day.”
“Why did your father have it to begin with? I thought you said he was a Guardian.”
“He is a Guardian. He bought it off some witch to help him on a case once. He never got rid of it, though. He put it on display in our living room. I think he liked to brag that he had it.”
I bite my tongue, refusing to comment, no matter how desperately I want to.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he snaps. “And he’s not like that. He didn’t keep it because he’s hiding secrets.”
“I didn’t say that, did I?”
“I can see it all over your face. And no matter what your Keeper parents have taught you, not everyone has a hidden agenda.”
“I never said they did.” My tone sharpens. “And don’t bring my parents into this.”
His lips part, ready to blast me with a cruel comeback, but then he fuses his lips together and composes himself. “You know what? I don’t have time for this.”
I expect him to get up and leave, but he sets the crystal down between us and rotates it until the orb shifts from pale purple to a murky grey. I know enough about the Whispering Crystal to know we can now talk without anyone eavesdropping.
But two questions cross my mind: 1) How the hell did Jax get the crystal to work when only witches are supposed to hold that kind of power? And 2) Who does he think is listening to our conversation?
Chapter 4
I tap the crystal with my finger. “How did you get it to work?”
He shrugs. “I have my ways.”
I skeptically eye him over. “Are you hiding a witch’s mark somewhere?”
“No,” he replies. When I shoot him a skeptical look, he adds, “If you want to search me, then go ahead, but you won’t find one.”
I lose my mind for a half a second and consider peering under his shirt to see if he’s hiding a mark under there, but I manage to keep a firm grasp on my sanity.
“Did you steal a bit of temporary Wicca magic? Because that’s the only other reason I can think of.”
His lips lift to a small smile. “I’m impressed. I thought it’d take you longer to figure it out.”
I lightly prod him in the chest with my finger. “Hey, I know a thing or two about witches. Remember, my aunt’s one. I also know that you better hurry up and say whatever you need to say, because you only have a few minutes before that magic wears off.”
“I know that.” He blows out a breath. “You remember that noise you heard on the phone?”
“The dying alien noise?”
He nods. “I’m pretty sure your phone’s been bugged. By whom, I’m not sure. My original guess was the Electi, but it could be a couple of other people, too. I’m going to take it to a friend of mine who can check it out and see.”
“But why would anyone want to listen to my conversations?” I ask. “I’m super boring.”
“The Electi probably don’t think you’re boring.” He traces his fingers along the edge of the crystal. “I’m also wondering if it might be Vivianne.”
“Why would she do that to me? Like I said, I’m super boring.” I know the real reason, though. She thinks I have the dagger.
“You sure about that?” he asks, eyeballing me suspiciously. “Or is there something you know that you’re not telling me, like maybe the reason Vivianne doesn’t like you so much?”
I keep a neutral expression. “Well, she hates Keepers, and pretty much my entire family belongs to the group.”
“She doesn’t think too highly of your grandpa, either,” he points out. “And he wasn’t a Keeper.”
I force down the pain and sadness threatening to choke me. “Most people don’t think too highly of him right now.”
“Alana, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me everything. I know there’s more to this than you’re letting on.” His intense gaze burrows into me. “When Vivianne called you into the office that day you found out your grandpa died, you came out looking angry and upset.”
“I just found out my grandpa died.” My voice cracks. “How else was I supposed to look?”
“Upset, but not angry.” He waits, as if expecting me to confess. But I can’t tell him about the dagger. If I do, then I’m admitting that my grandpa is guilty of stealing it. I can’t do that, not until I find out the reason he took it.
“If we’re going to be partners, we have to start trusting each other,” he presses. “Please, just tell me what you know.”
“Partners?” I elevate my brows. “I thought you were only training me.”
“You know what I mean. I’m just trying to make a point that, if we’re going to be working together, we have to trust each other. Working on murder cases can get really dangerous.” He carries my gaze, pressing the severity. “I think the mark outside your door proves that.”
“What are we going to do about that mark? If someone wakes up and sees it—”
“Don’t change the subject. I want to know what’s going on with you and Vivianne.”
Hmmm … Do I dare tell him about the dagger? Can I trust him?
He might be the only one … Just be careful … Don’t tell him where … you hid … it… Grandpa’s voice fades.
I sigh tiredly, wishing he would stop disappearing on me and tell me the full truth.
“It’s about the Dagger of Conspectu … Vivianne thinks my grandpa stole it right before he died.”
“Yeah, I know she does.”
“How?”
He lifts a shoulder to give a half-shrug, which looks awkward while he’s lying on his side. “She told me.”
“Oh.”
“But is that all she said to you.”
“Maybe,” I say, heavy with indecision. When he shoots me a fess-up look, I cave. “I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to tell Vivianne.”
He easily nods. “I’ve never trusted the woman, but the fact that she just wandered into the forest with the Empress of the Water Fey ...” He shakes his head, his expression hardening. “Let’s just say I’ll be very careful about what information I divulge to her.”
I swallow down my nerves and cross my fingers I’m not making a huge, epic mistake. “She thinks he gave the dagger to me before he died and that I still have it.”
“And do you?”
I stare at the glowing crystal between us, the light blinding, yet I don’t blink. “Maybe.”
Silence encases us, and my heart beats deafeningly inside my chest. God, I hope I can trust him.
“Where is it?” he finally asks.
I bring my gaze to him and put on a determined face. “Someplace safe.”
He opens and flexes his hand. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
I offer him an apologetic look. “No. I can’t. Sorry.”
He frowns. “I just hope you really did put it someplace safe.”
“I did. And it’s protected by magic, so it should be hard to find.”
“Good.” He props up on his arm and rests his chin against his hand. “Is there anything else you need to tell me?”
Other than I hear my dead grandpa’s voice in my head? “Nope. But I have a question for you.”
He casts a fleeting glance at the crystal. The light is fading. We’re running low on time.
“Make it quick.”
“I just want to know why Dash isn’t being targeted by the Electi,” I blurt out. “When he was in the office, he heard everything you said while you were on the Truth Serum, so doesn’t he know what they are?”
The crystal reflects against his eyes and highlights his apprehension. “He does know, has for a while, actually.”
My eyes pop wide. “Really?”
He nods, shifting his weight forward and moving closer to me. “But no one knows he knows … and probably never will.”
“Why? What is h
e?” I ask, hoping he doesn’t dodge the question this time.
He stiffens, and I worry he’s not going to tell me.
“Because … Dash has certain gifts that make … that make it almost impossible for someone to track down an identity on him.” He watches, waiting to see if I can put two and two together.
“Wait a minute …” Realization clicks. “Are you saying he’s a shapeshifter?”
“Not quite, but he has shapeshifting skills, which makes him really hard to track down.” His tone carries an edge.
“How can he have shapeshifting skills but not be a shapeshifter?” After all, from everything I know, no other creature can shapeshift.
His lips part right as the crystal dims out. Blackness engulfs us. The air stills between us.
“You should probably get to sleep,” he presses in a firm tone.
I catch his underlying meaning. No more talking about Dash or anything Electi related.
But why can’t I talk about Dash? What on earth is he? And why doesn’t Jax want people to know?
Chapter 5
I’m having the best nightmare-free dream for the first time since I got my mark when I’m startled awake by an annoyingly loud ringing.
My eyelids lift, and sunlight instantly blinds me as a faint, woodsy, wolfish scent engulfs my nostrils. At first, I’m like, who the heck am I all cuddled up with? Then I remember last night and how Jax never left my bed before I fell sleep.
Rubbing the sleepiness from my eyes, I start to sit up to answer the phone that won’t shut up, but then I freeze, realizing the position Jax and I are in. Not only did we sleep together in the same bed, but my head is resting on the crook of his lean arm, my hand is on his rock solid waist, and my leg is hitched over his.
Is this why I slept so well last night?
I shake the ridiculous thought from my head. Stop, Alana, just stop.
I carefully lift my hand off his abs, slide my leg away from his, and slowly sit up. My gaze drops to Jax, and I breathe in relief. He’s still fast asleep. Thank God. If he would’ve woken up, I’d never have heard the end of it.
The phone continues to ring as I study him. He’s resting on his back with his lips slightly parted, and his hair a crazy mess, but in a sexy way that makes me want to run my fingers through the strands to see how soft they are. I keep my insanity in check, though, and resist the crazy compulsion.
God, what would he think if he knew what I was thinking?
“Sleep well last night?” Jax murmurs with his eyes closed and a faint smile tickling his lips.
Dammit! How long has he been awake?
“No, not really,” I lie through a yawn. “I actually had a ton of nightmares of some stalker sneaking into bed with me.”
His eyelids open, and a grin breaks across his face. “You do realize you let me sleep in your bed, right?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Just because I fell asleep before you did, it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have kicked you out.”
“You’re such a liar.” He tucks his arms behind his head with a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “You felt too safe to kick me out.”
“I’m not a damsel in distress; I can take care of myself.”
“You may not be a damsel in distress, but you definitely need a babysitter. You’re a handful.”
“Hey, I totally took care of myself before you came into my life.” I pause, deciding if I want to go where my thoughts are headed. “But I’m very grateful that you stayed with me last night and didn’t let anyone try to kill me in my sleep.”
“Wow. Did I just get a thank you …?” He trails off as the phone rings again.
Sitting up, he digs his phone out of his pocket and hammers his finger against the talk button. “This is Jax.” He remains quiet, listening, and then his gaze slides to me. “Okay, but I have to bring my trainee.” He pauses. “Because she’s under strict orders not to be left alone.” Another pause. “Well, she can make up her class work on the weekend.” Irritation flickers in his eyes. “Fine, I’ll let her know.” He hangs up, drops his phone onto his lap, and runs his hand across his face. “We got called into a case.”
“We?” I question. “Since when do I go on cases?”
He lowers his hand from his face and throws me a “really” look. “Since you decided to go digging around into stuff you shouldn’t.” He tosses off the blankets, rises to his feet, and stretches his arms above his head.
“I think we already established that I don’t need a babysitter,” I say, doing my best not to gawk at his lean ab muscles peeking out from the hem of his black T-shirt.
An arrogant smile tugs at his lips. “Enjoying the view?”
“Nope, not at all.” I feel stupid for getting busted, though not enough to blush. “And how am I supposed to go on a case with you when I have detention? Don’t get me wrong; I’d way rather spend a day looking at dead bodies than hanging out in her office, doing stacks of homework, and then cleaning the bathrooms with the janitor, but I don’t think she’s going to be all for it.”
“She made you clean the bathrooms?”
I nod, kicking the rest of the blankets off me and sitting up. “And it sucked balls. I mean, Henry’s a cool dude and everything, but the guys’ bathroom reeks almost as bad as an outhouse.”
Shaking his head, he scoops up his shirt from off the floor. “She shouldn’t make you do that. It’s against the rules.”
I scoot to the edge of the bed and lower my feet to the cold linoleum floor. “I don’t think she really cares about rules.”
He slips his arms through the sleeves of his shirt. “She may think she doesn’t, but she will after I report both incidents.”
I comb my fingers through my long, brown, tangled hair. “I thought you couldn’t report her because she’s the person you’re supposed to report stuff, too. That’s what Dash said last night.”
“I’ll go to the Guardian committee.” He does up a button on his shirt. “They should be able to take care of it.”
“The Guardian committee?” I crinkle my nose. “Aren’t they supposed to be very strict and by the books kind of people?”
He finishes buttoning up his shirt then reaches for his belt on the floor. “They are, but that’s a good thing. They’ll be more hard on her.”
“I guess I see your point.” I rub the dreariness from my eyes, push to my feet, and wander to my dresser to get some clean clothes. “So, why didn’t Dash mention the committee last night?”
He loops the belt through his jeans. “Probably because our father’s on it, and they don’t really get along.”
I pull open the top dresser drawer. “Yeah, I kind of picked up on that last night.”
He freezes in the middle of doing up the belt buckle, and his questioning gaze elevates to me. “Dash talked to you about our father?”
“He just mentioned him a couple of times, and I could sense there was some tension.” I take out a black tank top, jeans, and a plaid shirt and then bump the dresser drawer shut. “He also said something when I first met him about you being brainwashed by your father.”
“Yeah, I forgot he said that.” He flattens his hand over his head, smoothing his hair with a deep frown etched into his face.
“Everything okay?” I ask cautiously.
He nods, blinking up at me. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I just need to go check up on a few things.” He hurriedly slips on his boots then backs toward the door without tying the laces. “Meet me out front in ten minutes. Make sure to keep your phone on you at all times. And do not go anywhere else. I mean it, Alana. Nowhere else.”
“Yes, sir,” I say with a salute. “But when you say nowhere else, does that include the bathroom? Because I really have to pee.”
He stares at me, unimpressed. “Yes, you’re allowed to go to the bathroom.” His tolerant expression goes poof as a haughty grin curls at his lips. “But, now that you’ve called me sir, I really think you should keep—”
“No, thank you,” I quickly
say, shooing him toward the door. “Now get out. I need to get dressed.”
Chuckling, he turns for the door and reaches for the doorknob …
Wait a second …
I gape at the intact door. “When did the door get fixed?”
“I had someone take care of it last night,” he answers, opening the door and revealing that the tile floor is now mark-free.
My lips part in shock. “And the—”
“Would you relax?” He presses me with a shush look, sticking his hand into his front pocket. “Everything’s taken care of, so stop worrying.”
I nod and keep my lips sealed.
When he removes his hand from his pocket, his fingers are curled around my phone. He gives it back to me and heads for the door again. “Be careful with what you say,” he mouths then walks out and shuts the door.
I rush up and twist the lock, hoping that will be enough to keep me safe for the next ten minutes.
Chapter 6
Ten minutes later, I’m standing in front of the school with a gentle morning breeze kissing my skin and the pale pink glow of the sunrise shining down on me. I keep walking up and down the short flight of steps to get my blood pumping and wake myself up more. While I’m not a necessarily exhausted, I’ve never been a morning person and usually don’t fully wake up until I drink a cup of coffee or two. Unfortunately, the cafeteria’s coffee tastes like ass.
I stifle a yawn as I jog back up to the top of the stairs and glance down the driveway, searching for Jax’s car. Where is he? He’s only a few minutes late, but he doesn’t seem like a guy who has ever been tardy to anything. It’s not like I miss him or anything—okay, maybe a little—but with it being so early, hardly anyone’s around, and the aloneness vibe makes me feel squirrely.
I can’t stop tossing nervous glances at the trees, plagued by the sense that someone or something is watching me. I consider calling or texting my dad and letting him know about Vivianne’s secret meeting with the Empress of the Water Fey, not only to update him on what’s going on, but to distract myself from the queasy feeling knotting in the pit of my stomach. But Jax warned me to be careful with what I said over the phone, and I’m guessing that subject falls into the off-limits category.