Instantly, my mind filled with sterile surfaces of the veterinary clinic we both worked at. The stench of antiseptic and wicked glint of scalpels. My heart warmed to think of the timid licks from animals thanking us for saving their lives, or the terrified yips of those who didn’t understand we were on their side and not to be feared.
I missed that vocation. I missed the rush of cheating disease. I even missed the crazy owners who provided endless entertainment.
“How many?”
“Eight babies, can you believe. Poor thing didn’t make it, but we did manage to save six of the kittens, so it wasn’t as tragic as it could’ve been.”
I looked at a chair, debating if I should sit or pace. The amount of nervous energy sparking through me preferred to walk.
Patrolling around the room, I asked, “How are you? Did you find the rent money I left for my share of the studio?”
Corrine snorted. “I found it, but I didn’t use it. This place was too small for the two of us anyway. I can more than cover it.” Her tone was reserved but warmed. “Plus, Nick has been staying over a lot, so in a way, you did me a favor.”
I smiled. “I’m glad things are working out with you two.”
“What about you, hairball? Did you find that guy who wrote you the letter?”
My old nickname—earned from being vomited on by a cat with a wicked case of undigested hair—made me laugh. The happiness didn’t last, however, as my thoughts turned instantly to Rubix and what’d happened at his hands. “I found him,” I hedged.
“Uh-oh, that doesn’t sound good. You okay? Need me to call Scotland Yard or MI6? How about James Bond?”
I giggled. “No, I’m safe. It was just a bit scary to begin with.”
“He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
I swallowed. How much could I tell her and how much was appropriate on a phone call? Not to mention the cost of the international call and the fact Arthur was patiently waiting for me.
“Believe me, I have so much to tell you but now is not the time.”
“Well … why bother calling me, then, spoilsport?”
I laughed. “Because I couldn’t let you worry about me. I owed you that.”
Corrine snorted again. “As if I was worried about you. Why would I worry about the girl who sat through weeks of tattooing without a single tear? You’re like She-Woman, or one of those Viking people who don’t feel pain.” Another rustle of what I assumed were bedclothes. “So … tell me the most important part.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“Did you find your hero with green eyes?”
Her question transported me back to the movies we’d watch together, always grumbling over swoon-worthy heroes who had blue or brown eyes but never green. My heart twisted with love as I thought about Arthur.
“Yes … I did.”
A squeal forced me to jerk the phone away from my ear. “Really? Oh, my God. That’s awesome!”
“His name is Arthur and I’ll introduce you once a few complications are ironed out.”
“Arthur? As in King Arthur of the Knights of the Round Table? Does he have Merlin conjuring spells for him by any chance?” Corrine snickered.
The picture of a wizened old man wrapped in mystique and secrecy was the exact summary of Wallstreet. I rolled my eyes. “Funny enough, he does have someone kind of like that.”
“Whoa, now I have to meet him.”
For a second, I wished I were back in England, curled up on the couch and sipping dirty martinis while plotting our future and fawning over ideals of future husbands. The only thing was, every trait I ever wished for in a future lover was everything Arthur was and had been in our youth.
“Oh, by the way, your case worker called last week. You forgot about the regular check-in.”
I slapped my forehead. “Shit.”
“I covered for you, but I don’t think she bought it. I’d call them if you don’t want some angry FBI dude chasing you down. Mom and Pop have been chatting with someone, too. They’re not happy that you upped and left. Going to have some explaining to do.”
“Thanks.” An awkward pause followed. There was so much to say and not enough time. Sighing, I said, “I have so much to tell you, Corrine, but I have to go.”
“Aww, that sucks. Just when it was getting juicy.” Her tone lost its joviality, sliding into serious. “Sarah … everything is okay … isn’t it?” A pregnant pause. “Do you remember—what happened to you, I mean? Do you know how you got the scars?”
I held my breath. How could she ever understand the world I’d been born into and the circumstances that forced me out of it? She was smart, sweet, and strong but so innocent at the same time.
“Yes. I did remember. I know how I was burned and I know who did it.”
“Are you safe? What can you tell me? Give me something—anything.”
Flicking through my revelations and problems, I decided on the issue raised thanks to Dagger Rose. “I inherited a large estate. But I can’t claim it.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have to come back from the dead.”
A shiver ran down my spine. On paper I’d died years ago. How did one come back from the grave?
“What do you mean?” Corrine’s voice trembled.
“I mean my name isn’t Sarah, it’s Cleo. I’ve fallen back in love with the boy who stole my heart when we were young, and I’m about to help him end the man who killed my parents before trying to murder me.”