Milla shook her head in protest, only to nod when River glared at her.
Cole squeezed my hand before releasing me. Indecision warred within me. Leave, and miss out on some interesting conversation, or stay, and possibly flash everyone in the room.
In the end, I trailed after Milla.
“How did you do that?” she asked. “Can all of Cole’s slayers do it? What else can you do?”
“I don’t know you, and I don’t trust you. Watch me as I don’t answer those questions.”
“Fine.” She opened a bedroom door and glared at me. “Touch my things, and I’ll kill you.”
You could try. “Same to you, Milla.” If she read between the lines, she’d know I’d just made a declaration. Cole was mine.
Up went her nose. “My friends call me Milla, and as you pointed out, we aren’t friends. You will call me Camilla. Or better yet, Miss Marks.” With that, she sealed me inside the room with a hard slam of the door.
Whatever. I hurriedly pulled on a pair of shorts for underwear and sweatpants, looking around. The room was small, but clean. Nothing was out of place. The twin bed was made, the comforter a princess-pink. I’m not the only storybook character in town.
“Over here,” a voice whispered.
I stiffened as the speaker’s identity registered.
Helen.
Arrows of dread and excitement hit me. She stood at the side of the desk, still dressed in the black tank and jeans. Her features were pale, and she was wringing her hands together nervously.
Expecting me to blast her?
“Why do you keep appearing?” I asked softly. “No. You know what? Don’t answer. I wouldn’t believe you anyway.” Maybe. Probably.
Ugh. I would, wouldn’t I? And Cole would be beyond ticked about it.
Ignoring me, Helen pointed to a stack of papers and said, “Read.” Then she vanished.
I took a step forward, stopped. Took a step, stopped. To invade Milla’s privacy or not?
If Helen was a liar, like Cole thought, she could be setting me up for a fall. But...if not...
My heart galloped. As I tugged on my socks, I hopped my way to the desk. I read the top page and realized it was written in code. Lines, numbers and symbols all woven together. The same code my five-greats grandfather on my mother’s side had used to write his journal. This paper was crisp and fresh, obviously a copy of something. But it couldn’t be a copy of the journal—that had been buried in boxes of my mother’s childhood things for years.
Why did Camilla have these?
A thousand possibilities rushed through my mind all at once. The one I couldn’t get past: my five-greats grandfather could have taught other slayers how to write in code, and the skill could have been passed down from generation to generation.
This paper could have come from anyone.
Why would Helen want me to see it?
I was taking pictures with my phone, when a hard knock sounded at the door.
“Hurry up,” Camilla commanded.
“Sure, sure.” I snapped a final photo, raced over and opened the door before she could burst inside and catch me in action. I tried not to pant.
She gave me a once-over as I pulled on the boots and scowled. Why? The clothes weren’t hers, I knew that much. She was way short, and these items were actually a little big on me.
“Those belong to River,” she informed me. “You’ll have to return them. After you’ve had them dry-cleaned.”
Such a sweet girl. “What’s your problem with me, anyway?”
She stared into my eyes for a long while and finally sighed. “Lookit. It’s just like you said. I don’t know you, so I don’t trust you, and I’m leery of things I don’t trust. It’s nothing personal.”
I could hardly argue with her—especially since she’d just quoted me! “Well, one thing you’ll learn about me is that I never lie. I don’t care what it costs me, I always tell the truth.”
She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “So easy to say, so impossible to do.”
“I agree that it’s easy to say, but I disagree that it’s impossible. It’s a challenge, and I happen to like challenges. Never have run from one, never will.”
She studied me again, some of her animosity draining. Then she nodded, as if she’d just made a decision. “River has his faults, but he’s a good guy. You better not do anything to harm him.”
“I won’t—unless he messes with me and mine.”
“Fair enough.” She motioned me forward. “Let’s get back and make sure our boys haven’t killed each other.”
Chapter 13
GREAT MINDS
TASTE ALIKE
I returned to the sitting room to find Cole on a couch, River settled comfortably in the chair across from him. Knuckle Scars had taken off.
“—your problem. You play by their rules,” River was saying.
“I don’t put my people in unnecessary danger, you mean,” Cole countered.
“Some risks are worth taking.”
“No life is worth losing.”