Tess
Mr. Washington called me back at six in the morning, waking me up.
"Tess, this is Albert."
"Who?" I'm not at my best at six in the morning.
"Albert Washington. You left me a message?" Now that I was marginally conscious, I realized his voice sounded just the same as it had when I took his class in high school.
"Oh! Yes, Mr. Washington. I—"
"Albert, please."
"What?"
He chuckled. "You're not in high school anymore, Tess. I think you can call me by my name."
Even the idea of it felt weird, like when I was a kid and ran into my teachers outside of school. I remember saying to Aunt Ruby in third or fourth grade: "My teacher goes to thegrocery store? Whoa."
"Okay, Mr. Wash—Albert. We heard about a special jeweled knife or sword that you're using in your production of Macbeth, and we're wondering where you got it. If maybe it might be the dagger we're all trying to find?" I didn't see any reason to hide our motivation; it's not like he wouldn't have heard what was going on.
The smell of coffee wafted into my room, and I threw back my covers and climbed out of bed.
"Oh, that?" He laughed. "That's just a knife that has been in my family a long time. Nothing Fae or magical about it, I assure you."
I felt my hopes deflate like a forgotten birthday balloon, and I sighed. "Okay, but we're out of leads at this point. Is there any chance we can come look at it, anyway? We don't know how long ago the Fae left this dagger in Dead End, and maybe your ancestors found it and passed it down."
He said nothing for a moment or two and then blew out a breath. "Fine, but I'm very busy this morning. We're fitting in one last dress rehearsal before we have to pack up and send these kids off to Orlando, just in case that Shepherd person is right about Dead End's … well … upcoming dead end." He laughed, evidently finding himself to be hilarious, and I scowled and opened my door to head to the kitchen.
"Stop by at, let's say, nine o'clock?"
"Nine o'clock. We'll be there. Thanks, Mr. Washington."
"Albert," he reminded me. "See you then."
I clicked my phone off and looked at Jack, who was far too awake and far too gorgeous in jeans and a green long-sleeved shirt for six in the morning. He was pouring coffee into my favorite Donald Duck mug.
"It's Albert."
"What's Albert?"
"Mr. Washington's first name."
He blinked. "Poor guy. No wonder he was never in a good mood."
I took the coffee. "Thanks. He was never in abadmood, either."
"The dagger?"
"He claims it's just an old knife handed down in his family. No magic, Fae or otherwise. I asked if we can come see it, just in case, and he said to stop by the school at nine." I rolled my head, stretching out my neck—I must have slept funny, although I didn't remember any of my dreams, weird or otherwise—and then I realized I wasn't wearing anything but a sleep shirt that only reached the tops of my thighs, and stirring noises were coming from my guest room.
"Oh, no!" I hurriedly put the mug on the table and ran for my room, only just managing to get in and shut the door behind me before I heard Jed's door open.
Whew.
I didnotwant to explain to a man with three-hundred-year-old views why I was standing around the kitchen in my underwear.
With his grandson.
