Yeah, unlike that cell phone number, which seemed way too tenuous, and not because it was on a lollipop wrapper. She had to choose to use those numbers, and time was running out before she took off—
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
With a start, he turned to Shuli—and felt like he didn’t recognize his friend. Which was nuts because the guy was wearing the same Izod polo, cashmere sweater, and khaki shorts kind of thing that he always did. He even had a pair of Ray-Bans tucked into the V-neck—like James Spader in that old movie. Pretty in Purple? What was the title?
“Hello?” Shuli waved a hand. “Anybody in there?”
Absently, Nate’s eyes tracked the glint of the fancy watch on his buddy’s wrist. And because he didn’t want to think about anything else, and because he certainly didn’t want to talk about all the things he didn’t want to think about, he blurted out, “Why do you work here?”
“Huh—oh, why am I on the crew? My sire thinks minimum wage builds character.”
“I don’t think it’s working.”
“Ouch—but you’re probably right. I can be a prick sometimes. And on that note, why are you looking like someone punched you in the nuts?”
“I’m not. I don’t. I mean—let’s go finish the painting in the garage.”
As Nate started hoofing it, Shuli chuckled and followed along. “So that’s why you’re not rubbing one out on a regular basis. It explains a lot.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“No nuts, no erection. Problem solved.”
“Not even close,” Nate muttered.
“No, really, it’s how it works—”
“Please, for the love of God, stop talking.”
“Like, about nuts? Or anything at all?”
The glare Nate sent over his shoulder answered that one. And as they filed out into the garage, he prayed Shuli gave him two minutes to recalibrate. When the guy blessedly started opening the cans and organizing the paint brushes in silence, Nate tried to pull it together, and looked down at the leaf he’d taken out of Elyn’s hair—
Frowning, he turned it over to check the back. And then turned the thing faceup again.
When he’d first seen the maple leaf in her hair, out by where the meteor had landed, it had been dried up, brown, past its life cycle.
What he was holding now was pliable and yellow with red tips, as if it had just fallen from its autumnal branch.
“What the hell you looking at?” Shuli said. “And for what it’s worth, if it’s your love line, I’m worried about where that’s headed.”
“It’s nothing,” Nate muttered as he put the leaf into his pocket. “You ready to paint?”
• • •
Collective wisdom was wrong. You could, in fact, be in two places at once.
As Sahvage stood in front of Mae inside her garage, another part of him was out in the dark with that other woman. Female. Thing-that-shall-not-be-named.
With the specificity of a newscaster, he was replaying everything the brunette had said to him, what she’d looked like, how she’d behaved. It was like searching for underground mines in a field, lifting rocks to see if he’d found all the danger.
“So?” Mae prompted tersely. “What do I have to agree to.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Let’s have your caveat.”
Shaking himself back into focus, he said, “If I tell you to leave me, you have to promise you will. When I go down, you need to leave me where I fall and save yourself.”
As her eyes widened, he couldn’t help her. Something inside of him was once again looking into the misty future . . . and seeing a moment in time for them both where only one walked away.
He stared into her eyes. “You have to leave me when it counts. Promise me.”
Mae’s brows went down hard. “What if I refuse?”
“Then I leave you now.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Well, that’s the way it’s going to be.”
She opened and closed her a mouth a couple of times, but he just waited for her to come to whatever conclusion she did. This was a nonnegotiable, and even though she’d pissed him off, he was glad they’d had to renegotiate their—well, whatever this was between them.
“Okay. Fine.”
Sahvage put his dagger hand out. “On your honor. Swear to it.”
She hesitated for a moment. Then she shoved her palm forward and clasped what he offered her with a serious squeeze—as if, in her head, she was ripping his arm off and beating some sense into him with it.
“Say the words,” he demanded.
“I promise.”
He nodded once, as if they’d made a blood pact. And then he glanced at her car. “Leave that here and let’s dematerialize back to the cottage. I cracked the shutter on the front left on the second floor. We can get in that way.”
“Did you seal the second-story windows, too? With salt?”
“Evil can only enter a place on the ground floor or with an invitation.”
“And if a house isn’t protected?”