Chapter 5
5
I sit beside Rowan on the rug in his room, my back resting against Grayson's legs, where he sits on the desk chair. Leif shoves books piled on Rowan's bed aside and plonks himself down. He chews on his lip as he stares at the box on the floor and looks between me and Rowan. "Couldn't you open the box while you were at the museum?"
"Evidently not, otherwise we wouldn't have taken it. Pay attention, Leif."
He blows air into his cheeks and doesn't share any more thoughts.
"We couldn't find a key that fit, Leif," puts in Rowan. "Don't stress, the museum is closed tomorrow. We'll return the box then."
Leif sighs and leans over to take a hold. "Any idea at all what's in here, Rowan?"
"I can only sense memories from whoever owned the item." He takes it back from Leif. "And there aren't many—the box was hardly touched. The origins of the box hold stronger energy."
"What's wrong?" asks Grayson. "You look… odd."
Rowan wrinkles his nose. "The box is made from ivory." A blank look from Grayson. "Ivory. Elephant tusk."
"Grayson. Rowan means he can pick up the elephant's energy," I say and smack the vamp hard on the leg when he laughs. "The elephant died. Therefore, the energy is unpleasant."
"Oh. Right." Grayson rubs his nose. "Uh... RIP elephant?"
"Sometimes, I can spot why you and Violet are such a good match," says Leif. "I mean, apart from the mutual blood lust thing."
"Eloquently put, Leif," I say.
"I'm just saying, Grayson isn't the most sympathetic and empathetic person."
"Compared to Violet, I am," he says with a laugh.
"Can we get back to the matter in hand? I've studied the box, and the pattern carved isn't significant—merely decorative."
"There's no way to unlock the box," says Rowan. "And I can't use an elemental spell to open the box—fire and ice will damage it."
"You've no other magic in your arsenals?" asks Grayson. "The academy's top witch and the Blackwood hybrid are useless?"
Rowan regards me warily. "I do have other magic. Yes."
"Not the shadows, Rowan," I warn and exchange a look with Leif.
Since we grew closer, Rowan's affinity to the Blackwood magic did, too. He's too tempted by the power that the shadows hold, and I'm worried they might get a hold on him . Even my father never uses that part of Blackwood magic, and he'd be unimpressed if he knew Rowan has. Unimpressed, but not in a murderous way—I hope.
"I'm sure the shadows could separate the lid from the box without damaging anything," says Rowan.
Leif rubs his nose, concern pinching his brow. "We've agreed that you don't encourage that magic, Rowan."
"Fine." Rowan places the box down. "We'll take the box back to the museum—or give it to your father, Violet. After all, this is an artifact linked to magic and he's collecting them all."
"And tell Dorian I'm causing trouble in town again by thieving? No."
"But if we do open the box and there's something magic inside, you'll tell Dorian, right?" asks Leif.
"If he's interested. You know my father doesn't always believe my cases are worth investigating."
"Cases." Grayson chuckles and winds some of my hair around his fingers, sending prickly shivers across my scalp. "You really have embraced your detective role."
"I agree with you—Violet should offer her detective services to the curator and look for the mole," says Leif with a smirk.
"I'd like to get closer to the man to discover why he possesses so much money while claiming he has none," I reply. "Assisting him could be the solution."
The guys relapse into their amusement over the mole while I look between the box and Rowan. The shadows could be the answer as I'm itching to open the box and find the magical item hidden in a human location.
I grit my teeth. How could I let this opportunity go?
"Do you think you'll be able to control the shadows?" I ask Rowan.
"With you here?" He nods. "Yeah."
"Don't let the magic touch what's inside—just in case the shadows lock onto the item."
"Violet is right. Give the box straight to Grayson once it's open," says Leif.
"Me?" he asks in surprise.
"You've no interest in the dead elephant or the contents," I say. "You're only with us because you've nothing better to do tonight."
"Uh. No. I'm with you because I'm part of this," he retorts and tugs on my hair.
Growling at the sharp pain, I turn to him. "Don't do that."
He leans down, lips close to my ear. "You like me pulling your hair sometimes."
"My exact point. You have no interest in what we're doing. Your mind is elsewhere."
Grayson gives a wry smile and sinks back into the chair. "The suspense is killing me. Open the box, Rowan."
"Okay?" asks Rowan, throwing me a wary look.
"I hope this is not against my better judgement," I say.
What concerns me the most is that Rowan doesn't require a boost from my magic to access the Blackwood's dark shadows, and I fidget as I watch him. Rowan's breathing shallows as he holds the box on his lap between both palms, and he disconnects uncomfortably quickly from full reality to one where magic dominates.
The wisps of shadow are barely visible at first, and due to my own affinity, I detect them before Leif and Grayson do. I kneel, prepared to pull Rowan's hands away should the shadows begin to manifest strongly, as the puffs thicken into a thread winding around the box several times. Thankfully, the space between the box and his hands doesn't fill with darkness, but the chill in the air spreads through the silent room.
Rowan's fingers move slightly, and he digs a fingernail into the box half-hidden beneath the gray mist. He's lost from us, focused on controlling the magic, and takes a sharp breath. The lid flips open, and Rowan immediately drops the box as if it burned him.
"Take it someone!" he urges, shoving his shaking hands beneath his arms.
As the box falls, the contents tip onto the floor.
A black velvet pouch tied with a ribbon.
I reach out for the item, wary in case something unpleasant or dangerous is attached. I'd be fine—nothing would likely affect me as a hybrid—but any harmful magic could impact the others.
Grayson picks up the box and watches as I carefully untie the ribbon. "What is it?"
I tip half a dozen small, shiny objects into my palm, some teardrop size and others half a centimeter wide. "Gems? Diamonds and sapphires? Emeralds?"
"Huh." Leif takes hold of a clear gem.
"Are they magic stones?" asks Grayson, peering closer.
I've inferior psychometry skills compared to Rowan, but I can detect which gems contain magic now I'm holding the items. Two ruby red spheres, barely the size of my fingertip, attract me, and a vague buzz crosses where they touch my skin. "The rubies are."
"Can you use your psychom-whatever to check the others, Rowan?"
"No!" I grab hold of the diamond that Grayson offers Rowan before he can take it. "Not before the shadows completely fade from him. We still don't know what magic might be attached. We can take a closer look tomorrow."
Grayson studies the ruby. "Look. Something's etched on the side. A rune." The circular marking is barely visible and absolutely tiny, but definitely not a chip in the gem. "Do you recognize the rune, Violet?"
Leif takes one of the rubies and squints at the marking.
"Not a common rune—you can research it later, Rowan," I reply. "And look into the name Redridge. We need to find a picture of that pocket watch."
"Why?" asks Leif.
"There's something rather obvious here. The box belonged to the Redridge family, and someone hid magical gems inside. The stolen pocket watch also belonged to the Redridges. And someone stole the Redridge mole gifted to the museum."
"Yeah and hid other gems. Do you think they're all real?" Leif pokes at them.
"And you reckon the mole theft is related?" asks Grayson.
"If the town's local reprobates took the mole as a joke, I can't see an obvious connection," I say. "But I never believe in coincidences."
"Rowan needs to use a spell to find any clues to places or people held in gems' energy imprints," says Leif.
"Yes. And I'll wait with Rowan until the shadows fade. I can make notes, and we'll meet in the morning?"
"And return the box to the museum?" asks Leif.
"Yes. But not the gems," I say.
"What?" Leif's mouth parts. "How long before somebody notices they're missing?"
"Long enough, I hope." I stand. Rowan's desk is a mess of magic paraphernalia: rune stones, dried plants, and vials of who-knows-what. I locate a sheet of paper and a blue pen.
"How long until the shadows leave you?" Leif asks Rowan.
Rowan shrugs. "Half an hour?"
Grayson rises, too, and pushes a long strand of hair from his face. "Ugh. No thanks. I've better things to do."
"Want me to stay?" Leif asks us.
Grayson snorts at him. "Um. I don't think they do."
"What are you intimating?" I retort.
"Intim acy ."
I sigh at his arched brow. "Leif. Can you take the box?"
"What?" He straightens. "A stolen item in my room?"
"We will return the box to the museum tomorrow, as you suggested."
"Yeah, without the gems ," he mutters. "When?"
"I shall consider this further," I reply, keeping one eye on Rowan. He seems okay, but the dark edge isn't leaving him. "And I'll have a decision for us by the morning."
Grayson snorts. "Instructions for your assistants?"
I blink at him. "Yes. Nobody else has the mental capacity to plan things in a meticulous and efficient way."
"I could take offense at that."
"If you were offended by things Violet says to you, you'd never spend time around her, Grayson," says Leif with a smile. "Comes with the territory."
"Can we not discuss my social skills or lack thereof? You're aware I'm working on my predisposition to offending people, but I will not let go of my belief in always telling the truth." I look to Grayson. "However uncomfortable."
"Come on, Leif," says Grayson. "We'd better leave before Violet chooses some truths that sting harder than calling us stupid."
"I did not call you stupid, Grayson, I merely reminded you that your intelligence is subpar in comparison to mine." Rowan chokes a laugh. "Not stupid, just inferior. However, I do care for you and appreciate your help, and enjoy our time together.”
"Oh, man." Grayson wipes a hand across his head. "You're hilarious." He kisses my forehead and opens the door.
Leif stands, places a palm on my cheek, and whispers, "Is he safe?"
"Rowan? He's fine."
"But keep an eye on him," he whispers again.
"If you wish, but the small manifestation of shadow shouldn't linger long." I smile. "Don't worry about me."
Leif turns his hand to run his fingers along my cheek. "I always do and always will, even though you don't need protecting."
I curl my fingers around his. “Thank you for caring. I hope you know that I’ll always worry about and protect you due to my great affection.”
He smiles. “Then we have a deal.”
“And we both know you I’m the one most suitable to protecting people,” I add.
If anybody saw us side by side and knew nothing about me, they'd argue that the slim, delicate girl could benefit from a half-shifter's protection. Leif's bulkier and more imposing than any other guy at school and, frankly, looks ridiculous in a uniform. But he's the gentlest, kindest person I've met. I've recently concluded he's also one of the most tolerant because I, as I'm often reminded, share none of those attributes.
But I do care deeply about Leif, an impossible feat for Violet Blackwood, who walked into the academy that first day. The girl, surrounded by her cluelessness and (usually) accidental rudeness, had no desire for anybody or anything apart from leaving.