Page 30

With class cut short, I now had extra time before Julian was meant to pick me up.

I decided to head to the library to do my own research.

However, instead of being able to concentrate, my thoughts drifted.

Even though our agreement had been ironclad enough, I still couldn’t get over the rest of my lingering doubts.

I had gotten used to their constant affection.

Our strange, supernatural bond probably played a lot into this because it had taken years for me to allow Finn to hold my hand.

Yet, there was a growing concern in the back of my mind—something I probably should have addressed last night, but I hadn’t been quite sure how to bring it up.

Titus’s actions when he gave me my gift, Damen and Miles’s touchy-feely behavior. Julian had even kissed my forehead this morning.

Did they truly understand? They did, right?

I tried not to dwell on my doubts and instead focus on my research. I was alone—outside of the long-haired guy in a cubicle across from me—and I had much to learn from this summoning chapter.

“Miss Brosnan?”

The sound of my name startled me, and I slammed my hand down, breaking the point of my pencil as I turned in my seat.

“Ms. Protean!” Why did I sound so nervous? “What can I do for you today?”

“Hello,” Ms. Protean said, eyeing the pile of books beside me.

She touched her half-moon glasses and studied me as if she were about to make a monumental decision.

“I’ve been looking for you. You see, I’ve received a memo from my colleague, Joseph Kohler, stating that—on top of my original purpose for seeking you out—you might be a subject of interest for me. ”

“Oh,” I replied. I wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, but the detective had told me something similar. “Why?”

He was Julian’s grandfather and an Elder Proxy—I could trust him, right?

“Why, indeed?” she asked, nostrils flaring.

“What—” I began, and my throat went dry. Why was she still looking at me so rudely? “What was your original purpose for seeking me out?”

“I heard you’re looking for information on Aine Hamway’s place,” she replied, squeezing her fists over her cane. “When you have a moment, would you please drop by my office?”

“I-I guess I can,” I told her.

I wanted to talk to her—to find out what she had to say so badly that she kept seeking me out. But to be alone with her—and Cécile, aka the cat that could kill a person—was entirely different.

“In the meantime,” she said, placing a folded piece of paper on top of my stack of books. “Why don’t you and Mr. Abernathy begin here?”

What did she mean ?

I grabbed the paper and opened it. In neat cursive was the name of a nursing home and the name Grace Cole .

“Who is this?” I asked her.

“Grace is my older sister,” she said, looking away. “She’s probably one of the few you can speak to about this, but you must be careful. If not, you’ll risk ending up like Caleb. Maybe you’ll have more luck on it than I ever did.”

“Mr. Weaver?” My interest piqued, and I tucked the note into my pocket. “How do you know about that?” I asked her.

“I have my sources.” She grimaced. “Extremely irritating sources.”

“Anyway,” she said, pursing her lips. She leaned forward, almost conspiringly, as she whispered. “Keep away from Alexander Cole and anyone related to him. Especially Daniel—he might be my great-nephew, but don’t trust him for a minute.”

Wasn’t Alexander the chief of police? What else did she know? I opened my mouth to ask, but my courage failed.

“What?” she asked, noticing.

“What—” I glanced past her. The boy who’d been lingering had left at some point. “What do you teach?”

“I’m the chair of the criminal justice department,” she replied as her vision ran over me. “What’s your major?” she asked.

“B-biology,” I answered, slinking. She was doing that weird judgy-eye thing again. “I’m planning to study botany.”

Her forehead wrinkled as she hummed under her breath. “Interesting.”

Then, without further clarification and with a surprising show of agility, she pulled over a chair, sat down, and crossed her ankles.

“Now that we’re alone,” she said. “I would visit Grace sooner rather than later. She’s only fourteen years older than me, but she isn’t in the best of health. Your time is limited. ”

“Oh,” I began, and my response turned to silence.

But that didn’t deter her, and she continued, “Grace was nineteen when she married Edward Cole—Alexander’s father. He was the last owner of the Hathaway residence.”

I sat up in my seat and grabbed my notepad. I wasn’t sure why she was telling me this now, but this was probably important.

“Edward was fifty-one when Grace married him, but no one—not even my parents—could intervene because she had consented and was of age. He also had influence. He was a popular judge and had many friends. By the time they got married, he’d already abandoned the house.

There was some talk of crimes being committed—girls disappearing throughout the years—but all investigations were dropped.

I was a nosy child and snooped when my sister was forced to be with him, but it ended with a curse and her sending me away. ”

“A curse?” I asked, peeking up from my scribbling notes. “What curse?”

“Never mind that.” Ms. Protean waved her hand in the air. “It’s nothing for you to concern yourself with.”

I frowned—somehow, it seemed relevant, or it might be one day in the future. However, she was the expert. “How do you know she didn’t want to be with him?” I asked instead.

“We were close, and I knew her mannerisms,” Ms. Protean replied. “What’s more, I could smell her fear.”

Smell? A sense of apprehension touched me. “Are you a shifter?”

Ms. Protean’s lips turned down as she tapped her finger on her knee. “I’m getting the impression that you’re less aware of yourself than you should be, although I’m not certain how that’s possible,” she said.

My skin flushed.

“Yes, I’m a shifter,” she replied. “I’m a wolf, to be exact— although I am not a member of any pack. I’m also a Proxy Officer.” She gazed at me, but I wasn’t sure what to say.

So I only nodded.

“Caleb Weaver was in my quintet,” she said.

I nodded again. That explained why she’d become invested in the crime against him. Despite the grumpy man’s feelings about her pet, they must have been good friends.

“We’re Elder Tongjuns,” she continued, still watching me in that evaluative way.

Tongjuns were the third-in-command, right? I was pretty sure I was getting the hang of this. Regardless, I was beginning to get a little unnerved by her scrutiny. “O-okay,” my voice wavered. “So, you’re kind of like Dr. Stephens and Detective Kohler?”

“Gregory!” Ms. Protean’s critical expression turned sour. “Almost. But they’re Elder Er Bashous, although we worked on the same team professionally in the past. That being said, their observational skills appear lacking these days.”

I had my pencil poised to write, but I was still looking at her.

“Miss Brosnan.” She touched her head again. “Please tell me you know who you are, at least.”

Oh, oh!

I sat back and stared at her. This was the exact opposite of what Damen wanted!

“H-how…” I began, but my words trailed off as she pressed her lips together and touched the side of her nose.

“Plus,” she said. “I pay a bit more attention than most—and have knowledge others might not possess.”

“What—what kind of knowledge?” I asked.

“I’m not certain about the need for secrecy,” she mused, not answering me as she looked over her shoulder. “But I do understand the caution. Plus, some work surrounding you makes it difficult to discern unless one already suspects. ”

“D-Damen,” I began, squeezing my knees together. “Damen wanted to keep things quiet for now,” I admitted. “Maybe he did something?”

Ms. Protean’s lips pursed as she observed me. “I don’t think so,” she said finally. “It’s in your scent. There’s a magic holding back your essence.”

“But…” I bit my lip, and my heart pounded. What magic? “Wouldn’t Titus be able to tell? Or Miles?”

“Mr. Montrone still has a long way to go before he reaches that level,” Ms. Protean responded. “And Dr. Ducharme would be too preoccupied, I think, to pick up on it right now.”

My skin crawled, and I grabbed my elbow. “Is—is it bad? Am I cursed?”

“No.” She shook her head as she sat back in her seat. “That isn’t a curse, at least. You’re being hidden. However, the second spell, not so much.”

What was that supposed to mean?

“It is much more recent,” she began, moving to stand. “And has the distinct scent of the Cole family to it. You share the scent with the other females who have vanished. Maybe bring that up to the rest of your quintet.”

I lifted my pencil, ready to ask, but she’d already begun to step away.

“In any case,” Ms. Protean said, “I’ll consider the other matter.”

“What?” I asked. What other matter?

“Ms. Protean.” Finn stepped into view, looking as serious as ever. “What a surprise. I was looking for—”

“Finn!” I leveled my meanest glare at him. How dare he show his face to me.

“Hello, Mr. Abernathy.” Ms. Protean didn’t appear surprised to see him. “It seems your line has a knack for getting in my way. ”

“What?” Finn shot her a curious look, then shook his head. “Never mind. I wasn’t aware that you knew Bianca—”

“How Miss Brosnan and I are acquainted is no business of yours,” Ms. Protean said, leaning on her cane. “But I think she and I will become familiar with each other soon enough.”

What did she mean by that?

Finn appeared to be curious about the same thing. “I beg your pardon?”

“You don’t need to know everything.” Ms. Protean rolled her eyes. “Besides, there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m not the big, bad wolf in this situation. You have greater concerns now.”

“Concerns?” Finn repeated, suspicion lacing his voice.

“Goodbye,” Ms. Protean said and left.