She wrote seriously, and looked up periodically to gaze at the sky.
Her eyes were pale blue, unlike my green ones. Her high cheekbones looked like mine, as did her mouth, her jawline, even her hands. Sleek black hair hung down her back. A smudge of green ink on her finger matched the green of her nail polish, and a snake pin stuck in her hair to keep some of it off her face.
The image was there and gone, a blink of a past so full, so teeming with color and life, the immediacy of it squeezed something in my chest. It shocked me, the familiarity of every detail, despite how distant it all felt.
It had all slipped past my defenses, leaving me hollowed out.
I’d been alive then, really alive. Some part of that version of me felt dead now.
“What is this?” I whispered.
When I glanced up, he was watching me, an unreadable expression on his face.
“Your mother’s journal.” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t feel comfortable opening it,” he added. “But there’s a decent chance something in there could be important. The Praecuri never got their hands on it, as far as I know. It’s not in any of the reports.”
My fingers tightened on the leather cover.
“How’ve you got it?” I asked.
He shook his head slowly, his eyes unreadable.
His dragon clacked at me, as if trying to explain without Caelum’s help.
“Someone gave it to me,” he said, after the dragon quieted.
“What?” I stared at him, uncomprehending.“Whogave it to you?”
Even more slowly than before, he shook his head.
“I don’t know, Shadow,” he said. “I really don’t. They left it in my room. I have no idea how they got past my multiple chimeras, including tripwires that should have dropped them to their knees before they got a foot through my fucking door…” At something in my expression, he averted his eyes, gesturing vaguely. “…Or how they’d know to give it to me in the first place,” he added, voice subdued. “But from your reaction, I’m guessing it’s likely authentic? I admit, I almost didn’t want to give it to you until I’d at least verified that much?”
“It’s authentic.” I cleared my throat. “I remember it. I feel her on it.”
Realizing both things were true, I fell silent.
That silence stretched as we stared at one another.
The dragon was making softer, more agitated noises where it clung to his shoulder.
“Someone knows we’re working together,” I said numbly. I fingered the cover of the leather journal, the familiar engraved patterns. “On this. On my parents’ deaths. They know you’re helping me.”
I looked at him, and saw the worry in his eyes.
It sent another of those strange, disquieting shivers down my spine, but I didn’t know what to think about that, either.
I stared down at the journal instead, my fingers clutching the worn leather.
27
Dreams And Crystals
Isaw him the moment he appeared in the doorway.
Like always, he drew my eyes, even when I didn’t want him to.
I stared at him openly now, seemingly outside my control, watching as he slid unhurriedly into the full classroom and made his way between tables. He wore a white shirt, open at the collar, maybe more open than usual, over his dark pants. His sleeves were rolled up, and I could see the dragon tattoo on his left arm. He wore the rings he always wore, including the gold skull I suspected was a family ring.
He looked the same, yet I could feel something was different.
