“Your boyfriend seems cool.” Jude looks at me, leaning on the edge of the counter, coffee mug in hand.
“That’s because he is cool.” I nod, thumbing through the appointment book, seeing I’m booked for a two o’clock, followed by a three, a four, and a five—and relieved to see that the names aren’t even slightly familiar.
“So he is—your boyfriend, then?” He takes a quick sip of his drink, eyeing me from over the top of the cup. “I couldn’t be sure. Seems kind of old, you know?”
I slam the book shut and reach for my water, even though I’d really prefer a gulp of immortal juice instead. But ever since Roman showed up I vowed to cut back on my public consumption. “We’re in the same class.” I shrug, returning his gaze. “Which would make us the same age, no?” Hoping to avoid further scrutiny by phrasing it like that.
But Jude continues to stare, gaze deepening when he says, “I don’t know, does it?”
I swallow hard and look away, heart beating overtime as I think, Does he sense something too? Is he onto us?
“Could mean he was held back—for—” He smiles, those sea green eyes sparkling, full of light. “Several decades—at least?”
I lift my shoulders, determined to ignore the insult if that’s what it was. Reminding myself that Jude’s not just my boss—providing a job that gets Sabine off my back—but also the keeper of the Book of Shadows, a tome I desperately need to get to again.
“So, how’d you meet Honor?” I ask, leaning down to tinker with the jewelry display. Rearranging the silver chains with their gemstone pendants, tucking the price tags away. Hoping to appear nonchalant, blasé, as though I’m just filling up the silence and not because I care.
He leaves his cup on the counter and disappears into the back, fiddling with the stereo system until the room fills with the sound of crickets and rain, the same CD he plays every day. “I was hanging a flyer over at this place.” He returns to the counter and points to the name on his cup.
“Was she alone or with someone?” I squint, imagining Stacia egging her on, making her approach him, as some kind of dare.
He looks at me, eyes searching my face for so long I avert my gaze and busy myself with the rings, organizing them by color and type, as he continues to study me.
“Didn’t notice.” He shrugs. “She just asked about the class so I gave her a flyer to take with her.”
“Did you talk? Did she tell you why she’s interested?” Blowing my cover as a person who’s only mildly curious the moment the words escape.
He squints, gaze deepening as he says, “Said she’s having boyfriend problems and wanted to know if I knew any good spells she could cast.”
I gape, unsure if he’s joking, until he laughs.
“What’s with all the interest? She try to steal your boyfriend or something?”
I shake my head, shutting the jewelry case and meeting his gaze when I say, “No, her best friend did.”
Jude eyes me, voice careful when he says, “And was she successful?”
“No! Of course not!” Cheeks flushing, heart racing, knowing I answered too quickly to ever be believed. “But that doesn’t stop her from trying,” I add, knowing that was no better.
“Doesn’t stop her, or didn’t stop her? She still at it?” He lifts his cup and takes a long pull, his gaze never once leaving my face.
I shrug, still trying to recover from my previous outburst. Knowing I’m the one who started all this.
“So, you in the market for a spell of your own? Something that’ll keep the girls away from Damen?” Brow raised, voice giving no hint if it was a joke.
I shift on my stool, unnerved by the weight of his gaze, not liking the sound of Damen’s name on his lips.
“Guess that explains your sudden interest in the Book of Shadows,” Jude says, refusing to let it go.
I roll my eyes and move away from the counter, not caring if it’s an insubordinate act. This conversation is over. I’m making that clear.
“Is this going to be a problem?” he asks, his voice carrying a tone I can’t read.
I stop just shy of the bookshelf, unsure what he’s referring to. Turning to read his sunshiny aura, and still not having a clue.
“I know you don’t want people to know about you, and now there’s some girl from your school dropping in . . .” He shrugs, allowing me to fill in the rest.
I shrug too, realizing the list of people who know my psychic secret is really starting to grow. First Munoz, then Jude, and soon Honor, which means Stacia will follow (though she already suspects anyway)—and then of course there’s Haven who proclaims to be “onto” us as well. And the awful part is—all of this can be traced back to me.
I clear my throat, knowing I have to say something though I’ve no idea what. “Honor’s not—” nice, pleasant, kind, decent, at all what she seems—but the truth is, that more describes Stacia. Honor’s much more of an enigma to me.
Jude looks at me, waiting for the finish.
But I just turn away, face obscured by a chunk of blond hair when I say, “Honor’s not someone I know all that well.”
“Guess that makes two of us.” He grins, tossing back the last of his coffee before crumbling his cup and projecting it toward the trash where it lands with a thud. His gaze seeking mine when he says, “Though she does seem a little lost and unsure, and that’s exactly the kind of person we try to help around here.”
By six, my fifth client, a last-minute walk-in, is gone for the day, and I’m in the back room smoothing my hair from the black wig I decided to wear.
“Better.” Jude nods, glancing up from his computer briefly, before returning to his work. “The blond suits you. That black was a little harsh,” he mumbles, tapping the keyboard and shaking his head.
“I know. I looked like a severely anemic Snow White,” I say, looking at Jude as we laugh.
“So, what’d you think?” he asks, back to his computer screen.
“I liked it.” I nod, moving away from the mirror and closer to the desk where I perch on the edge. “It was good. I mean, some of it was kind of depressing and all, but it’s nice to be able to help someone for a change, you know?” Watching his fingers move across the keyboard so fast my eyes can hardly keep up. “Because honestly, I wasn’t so sure. But I think it went okay. I mean, you didn’t get any complaints or anything—did you?”
He shakes his head, squinting as he shuffles through a stack of papers at his side. “Did you remember to shield yourself?” He takes a moment to gaze up at me.
I lift my shoulders, having no idea what he means. The only shielding I’ve ever done is the kind that shuts off everyone’s energy, which would make it pretty much impossible to give a reading.
“You need to protect yourself,” he says, pushing away his laptop to better focus on me. “Both before and after a reading. Has no one ever shown you how to leave yourself open while still shielding yourself from unwanted attachments?”
I shake my head, wondering if that’s even necessary for an immortal like me. Unable to imagine anyone’s energy being strong enough to drag me down, but it’s not like I can share that with him.
“Would you like to learn how?”
I shrug, scratching my arm as I glance at the clock, wondering how long it’ll take.
“It won’t take long,” he says, reading my expression, already moving away from the desk. “And it really is important. Think of it like washing your hands—it releases all the negative stuff your clients carry with them, making sure it can’t contaminate your life.”
He motions for me to take one of the seats as he perches on the adjacent one, regarding me seriously as he says, “I would guide you through a meditation that’ll help strengthen your aura—but since I can’t actually see your aura, I have no idea if it needs strengthening.”
I press my lips together and cross my right leg over my left, shifting uncomfortably in my seat, unsure how to respond.
“Sometime you’ll have to tell me how you hide it like that. I’d love to learn your technique.”