Quen was silent for a moment, then said, “You do know he’s lying to you.”
“Kal?” Not looking at Quen, she set the coffee down so she could put more books in the box. “Obviously.” But she had to stifle a shiver at the memory of their night together in the barn. Damn . . . the man had skills.
“I can’t believe you slept with him,” Quen accused, and she looked up, annoyed.
“I never should have told you,” she muttered. But he was staring at her in silent accusation, and in a burst of motion, she stood and went to the emptying shelves, her toes deep in the red shag throw rug.
“It was my decision, not his,” she said, stacking more books along her arm. “Mine. And I didn’t care if he was lying or not. It felt good to be wanted. I got to bag the cutest boy in school. Big deal. My body, my life.” But it didn’t feel as good as she’d thought it would, and she couldn’t meet Quen’s eyes as she came back, kneeling to let the books spill in disarray on the floor.
“I don’t have much choice but to play this out until Kennedy fires me,” she added, not liking his accusing silence. “It will be a cold day in the ever-after before I give them the keys to my research, but I will have found somewhere else to work by that time.” I hope.
His feet moved, and her eyes flicked up, finding a grudging acceptance in him. “I’m not giving up,” she said. “My research could save so many lives, but I can’t develop it here.”
“You really don’t have a plan anymore, do you?” he said, and she shook her head, finding it wasn’t as scary as she had thought it would be. It actually gave her an odd strength, and finding a sense of peace for the first time in days, she taped up the box and set it atop the first one. All those trees, and I’ll never see any shade, any fruit, she thought as she looked at the darkness beyond the wide windows. It bothered her as much as leaving Daniel.
“You want those in the truck with the rest?” Quen asked, quickly rising to take the box from her.
“Yes, thanks,” she said softly, watching as he easily lifted both boxes at once and took them out. Everything in the truck was going into storage. What she was actually taking to Florida was much less and already packed in her car. Her clothes, her music, a few pictures, and a locked box holding her grandmother’s ashes and summoning supplies, never to be opened again.
Trisk’s thoughts went to the raised circle of flesh on the bottom of her foot, an angry line slashed across it. It was a reminder of the debt she owed, and she refused to show even Quen.
“We have headlights on the road,” Quen said loudly as he came back in, shaking her from her dark musing. “It’s Daniel,” he added as he lingered by the front door.
“Great.” Stretching, she pulled her sneakers close and slipped them on to hide her demon mark. The raised welt bumped under her fingers, and she quashed the feeling of shame. But it was better than killing Daniel, and she lifted her chin defiantly. She’d do it again in a heartbeat.
“I’d recognize his T-bird anywhere after tailing him all week.” Quen turned from the long window to give her a warning look. “Did you know he goes to the same bar every night to drink a beer and watch the news?”
“Gosh darn it,” she swore mildly as she looked across the messy room to the phone. She’d taken the receiver off the rotary hook this morning when people kept calling, first to find out why she wasn’t at work, and then later to tell her she was missing Daniel’s results release party. As the guest of honor, Daniel would have been there, and she was doing everything she could to put space between them. It was more than making sure the curse stuck; seeing him made her heart hurt. “The curse is holding, isn’t it?” she asked.
Still looking out the long window beside the door, Quen stepped back to remain unseen. “So far, but the more you talk to him, the riskier it is. You want me to get rid of him?”
She sat back on her heels, feeling unprofessional in the jeans and black T-shirt she’d put on this morning. “No,” she said as she took off the handkerchief holding her hair back and shook the long strands out. “I’ll talk to him. You should go hide in the back. No reason to tempt triggering something with an introduction. Right now, he doesn’t know you, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
Quen nodded decisively. “Good idea,” he said as he wove through the clutter of boxes. Jerking to a stop, he returned for his coffee, then his shoes, and finally his coat draped over the end of the couch. All evidence of him in hand, he hustled into the back as the doorbell chimed.