Page 29 of Malcroix Bones Academy (Bones and Shadow #1)

“It’s not important for you to know that,” Bones said. “And I have no intention of telling you my reasons, so I don’t much give a fuck if you agree with them or not.”

I weighed that, and decided we could come back to it.

“You came to offer me something in return,” I reasoned. “What was it? Money? Gold? That seems the obvious thing for someone like you.”

I didn’t want his money. I didn’t even need his money, not now that I had the inheritance left to me by my mother, as well as my grandmother, who’d surprisingly left me nearly as much as gold as my mum. It just struck me as logical, I suppose, that someone like him would assume he could buy me.

But he surprised me.

Discomfort flickered through his expression. “I can’t offer you gold.”

“What do you mean, you can’t?” A slight scoff reached my voice. “You’re positively rolling in it, aren’t you?”

“I can’t offer you gold,” he said, colder. “I was going to offer to help you with your primal problem.” His eyes shifted meaningfully above my head. “I can teach you how to project one. So it’s not so obvious you’re a freak.”

“I’m a freak?” I scoffed for real. “You just dragged me into a bloody broom closet to expel magic into me, like some kind of human drug addict. But I’m the freak?”

“I’ll help you find out who’s trying to kill you,” he offered next. “I would think that might be worth something to you.” He stared at me, his gold eyes flat. “You can’t possibly think I mightn’t be of some use to you, given how new you are here.”

“Not enough,” I said, my heart hammering in my chest.

His jaw ticked visibly. “What would be?”

“I want to know what happened that day. In London. When we were kids.”

There was a silence.

I saw it, the way his pupils contracted. I saw his complexion change.

“I don’t know what?”

“Bollocks,” I cut in warningly. “You do know. You remember. I know you do. I want to know who killed my parents. And you were there. I want you to tell me everything you know about that day, and who was involved. And I want your help to find out why.”

Was I imagining things, or did I see a flicker of relief touch his eyes?

Why did it look like he thought he’d dodged a bullet?

“I didn’t see anything,” he said, a little too quickly.

“You know more than I do. You have to know loads more than me.”

He shook his head, certainty in his gold eyes. “I don’t, though. I don’t know anything.”

“What were you doing there?” I demanded.

“Doesn’t matter.”

I let out a disbelieving, humorless laugh. “I strongly disagree.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he repeated, that warning bleeding back into his voice. “It had absolutely nothing to do with your parents, Shadow.”

“Your parents aren’t with the Praecuri?” I pressed. “You weren’t there with them?”

He stared at me blankly. Then he let out a dark laugh.

“You think my parents, Malefic and Vaevarya Bones, were there as members of the Praecuri?” He scoffed openly, contempt in his voice.

“You clearly know nothing about my family if you think they’d stoop to being employed in a profession.

Particularly one requiring they spend most of their time in Overworld. ”

His voice grew a layer of disgust mixed with disbelief.

“And in what world do you think the Praecuri bring their children with them out in the field to commit extralegal assassinations?” His eyebrow rose. “Seriously, did your La Fey mother drop you on your head when you were an infant? Or is this embarrassing stupidity of yours genetic?”

My jaw hardened. “So you can’t help me,” I said. “Why on earth would I help you?”

“I told you why,” he snapped.

I shook my head, once. “And I told you, it’s not good enough.”

He pulled his hands out of his pockets to rest them on his hips.

After another moment, he exhaled, then nodded slowly.

“Fine. I’ll help you,” he said. “With both things. They’re probably connected, anyway.”

I was about to open my mouth, but he cut me off.

“Whoever’s trying to kill you is likely the same person who killed your parents,” he said, with maddening reasonableness. “Or hadn’t that occurred to you yet, mongrel?”

“You get to stop calling me that, too,” I warned.

He shook his head, but he was smirking now. He knew he had me. His last comment alone had my head spinning, thinking about whether he might be right.

“No. I don’t think I will.” His voice grew a touch amused. “I rather enjoy you red-faced and indignant. Besides, we have to keep up appearances. I told you, no one knows about this. About any part of this. No one. Or the deal’s off.”

I stared at him, angry, confused, but, maddeningly, not indecisive.

The thing I’d wanted from him, he’d just handed to me, practically on a silver platter. All I had to do was tolerate him doing… that, whatever the hell that was… to me, whenever he needed to scratch that itch.

“How often?” I asked.

His eyebrow rose. I snorted in annoyance.

“Now who’s thick?” I huffed. “These magical transfers, or whatever they are. How often do you need to do it?”

His brow cleared. “That depends,” he said, a little stiffly. “Usually about once a week. Sometimes more often. Sometimes less.”

“And you can’t tell me what the variables are?” I asked.

“No,” he said coldly.

Thinking about that, I nodded. “All right.”

When I glanced up, I was startled to see real, tangible relief in his eyes. It was so obviously there, so strangely vulnerable, it nearly wiped away the sneer he wore over it.

“So do we shake?” I asked, holding out a hand.

“I want more than a handshake,” he said.

“What then?” I asked, not hiding my impatience. “Do you need me to sign something in blood? Shall I call my solicitor?”

I’d meant it as sarcasm, obviously, but he didn’t smile.

“I want agreement between our primals,” he said. “A vow. A real one.”

My confusion returned. “How could I possibly give that? You know I haven’t got one.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s a sun,” he said.

“White and gold. With some green, tendril-y things.” He made a vague gesture indicating squiggly lines.

“It’s right over your bloody head, Shadow.

” He pointed upwards with a finger. “And you don’t need to do anything.

I’ll talk to it, using my own primal. If it’s a real agreement, then we have a deal. ”

I frowned. “What assurances do I get?”

“What assurances do you want?” He folded his arms. “My primal will make the agreement with yours, and I’ll be as bound by it as you are.”

“But how will I know that?” I asked.

“I’d think you’ll know,” he said, annoyed. “Is it my fault you can’t feel your own ruddy primal or communicate with it?”

Realizing I didn’t care, as long as he helped me find out who killed my parents, I exhaled, my hands on my hips.

“Fine,” I said. “Do it. I’ve probably missed breakfast by now, anyway.”

He gave me a strange look at that, opened his mouth, then closed it.

Then he closed his eyes.

I watched him, curious in spite of myself. His whole outline seemed to glow brighter for a few seconds. That black flame and crystal hovering over his head, with its rippling black smoke, seemed to grow brighter, too.

I felt the glowing, heated part of my chest grow shockingly hotter.

I’d just pressed my palm to it, wincing, when it abruptly eased.

Caelum Bones opened his eyes.

He smirked, then held out his hand.

“We have a deal, Shadow,” he said.

I shook his hand back warily, watching his eyes as the palm of my other hand continued to rub my chest.

He released me, then walked pointedly around where I stood.

Before I could utter another word, he’d reached the door of the utility closet. The floating, green flames winked out. Light flashed blindingly as he opened the door.

Then he was gone, and I stood alone in the dark.