Page 26 of Change

“Make sure you really do trust them, and I’ll attend as a witness,” Ms. Protean responded airily. “That’s all I ask. I don’t go on adventures anymore.”

Without another word—but one last, side-long glance to me—Ada left, slipping into the hallway and walking away with almost a dizzying, yet inspiring, speed for someone in such high heels.

I had so many questions about the entire exchange, but first and foremost, “Why’s she looking for Xavier?”

Ms. Protean slipped past me and moved back to her desk. “Probably to ask about you.”

I bit my lip, shutting the door then moving to the center of Ms. Protean’s small office.

I hadn’t been back since the day I’d trapped Uncle Caleb—a phrase I was still trying to get used to but was far more difficult than Gregory—and the space now seemed… different.

There was a pile of disorganized books in the corner, where I’d last seen the angry ghost, and the top of the desk, which had been so organized before, was covered with open notebooks and pieces of yarn. Four coffee mugs were stacked in columns of two along the short corner.

Ms. Protean, too, seemed off. Her neat hair was no longer well-kept, and loose, long tendrils curled around her face. She must have seen me staring, because once she sat down, she pulled out her hair clip, freeing her long ash-colored curls.

“What is it?” she asked, smoothing her hair back once more and twisting it into the clip.

“Oh.” I’d lost my train of thought, and my face warmed. “Why would she go to Xavier to ask about me?”

“Becauseyou’re a Dubois,” she replied, finishing up with her hair and moving her hands to the table. “She knows that Bryce and Brayden won’t tell her anything. But Xavier is in her quintet, and also fae, so he’d be willing to talk to her.”

“Why, though?” I never quite understood the big deal. “What is this obsession with fae women? Just how many of us are at this school?”

She raised her eyebrow and pushed a pencil behind her ear. “Two, I believe, including you.”

“Two?” I couldn’t breathe. In that case, whose terrible plan had it been tohideme here? Even more importantly, who was this other fae girl?

“Just two,” Ms. Protean answered. “Though there’s a few dozen men here as well.”

I still didn’t understand the big deal. “Do I know this girl? What about the other people at this school?” I asked. “What groups make up most of the population?”

“I doubt you know her, she’s a senior and is… fiercely independent. Besides the fae—who are outnumbered—the rest of the groups: shifters, witches, necromancers, and onmyoji, are mostly-evenly distributed,” she said. “Please sit down, your fidgeting is worrisome.”

I sucked in a breath at the last part of her statement—I hadn’t even noticed that I’d been shifting my weight back and forth until she’d pointed it out—and slowly sunk into the abandoned seat that Ada had obviously been using earlier. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” Ms. Protean was now rummaging around in a drawer, and after her command she straightened, pushing a white napkin and a small water bottle across her desk. “Take that.”

“Take…” I began, not entirely sure what she was on about, before I spotted the two orange pills. “Oh.” I’d forgotten—this was yet another con with being around shifters during that time of the month. “I’m fine.”

She stared at me, one gray eyebrow slowly raising as her disapproval visibly bore into me. “Mr. Abernathy has threatened to send that horrible creature of his after me.” She pulled out a bright red cellphone and perched a dainty pair of glasses on her nose as she read, “He says, and I quote, ‘I leave it to you to care for the blossom of my soul, otherwise I will destroy everything you hold dear.’ There’s more veiled threats of an unsavory nature but the gist is that you’re to take this ‘second-class medication’ until he can ‘hold you in his arms once more’.”

Oh my God.

I hid my face in my hands, my pulse pounding in my ears as my embarrassment burned down to my toes. “I’m so sorry!”

“Why now?” She lowered her phone and peered at me over the top of her glasses.

“Because…” Wasn’t it obvious? “He’s just so…him.”

“That is how an onmyoji loves someone.” Ms. Protean lowered her phone back to the table, and the look she gave me was strangely serious. “In an overbearing way that might sometimes be annoying. But they feel with all their heart.”

Now my pulse was racing for a different reason. “That can’t be true,” I muttered. “They don’t all have the same personality.”

“No…” She braced her arm on the table, and she sounded sad as she said, “They don’t. But one thing to keep in mind is that onmyojis arepassionate, even if they have different ways of showing that passion. Once they’re fixated on something, they’re obsessed. It can be rather unhealthy.”

But… That wasn’t true at all. Because Damen didn’t love me.

If he did, he wouldn’t push me away so often.