Dead and Gone (Thornwood Academy)

Chapter 6

6

Rowan sits on the floor, cross-legged, his hands clear of shadows after ten minutes. He examines the gems and agrees that the only ones infused with magic are the rubies, and on closer inspection, confirms he doesn't know the rune. My spirits sink when no significant memories are attached to the ordinary gems.

As Rowan places all but the rubies back into the pouch, I kneel opposite him and stroke down his messy hair. The hum from his magic travels along my arm, the shadow's taint now a faint echo. He smiles at me and reaches a hand around to hold the back of my neck, and I lean forward so that his forehead touches mine.

"Are you about to kiss me?" he asks.

I don't move, flashing him a warning look. "You're not having any of my darkness, Rowan."

His breath strokes my lips as he laughs. "This isn't my darkness wanting more of yours." He's right; there's no immediate and sudden pull of my energy to his, even if the physical one is obvious. Placing both palms on his cheeks, he places a brief, gentle kiss on my mouth, before moving back. "Okay. Let's examine the rubies more closely."

Once we locate Rowan's white chalk and draw a circle, I place the ruby in the center and link fingers with Rowan. He places the fingertips of his other hand on the ruby, breaths growing shallower again, as he tunes into the energy. A quick touch of an item can give Rowan glimpses, but a focused spell like this can provide a fuller history, allowing him to delve into deeper memories and psychic imprints attached to the object.

"Old," he mumbles.

"Hence the placement in a museum," I say, and he opens an eye, pulling a face at me.

"There's nothing violent attached. The gems were kept somewhere that a lot of people passed through as there're multiple energies connected, but they weren't touched a lot."

"Can you see where? In the museum?" I squeeze his fingers harder, willing more of my magic towards him.

Rowan's eyelids flutter as his eyes move behind. "No. A house. On a shelf maybe? Paneled walls. Not many people saw the gems. Oh!" He straightens. "Yes. The museum, but later."

"Odd that someone felt the need to hide the gems inside the museum now." I chew my lip. "Unless they're scared Dorian's council might get a hold. Can you tell who held the gems recently?"

"Cigar smoke. No... herbs that smell like tobacco." He rubs his nose. "Then a mustiness but also a smell of pine. Then things go dark—the box I suppose."

If all Rowan's senses could interact with the past and he could hear too, the spell would be perfect, but he's not as attuned as a future-sighted witch is to their visions. We're lucky that he's skilled enough to meld his mind with the energy to the degree he does.

"The last person to hold the gems is panicked. They don't want anybody to know they have them." He pauses. "And he's frustrated."

"What about?"

Rowan shrugs, and his fingers loosen before he takes a huge breath and exhales. He rests against his bed and blinks back to reality. "That's all. My head hurts."

"Okay." He watches me through half-closed eyes as I rest a sheet of paper on a book and take a pen from his desk. "I'll jot a few things down and then leave."

"I'm fine, by the way," he says, and I look up to his half-smile. "Thanks for asking."

I frown. "I never asked. I know you're fine without you telling me."

"Yeah, but a show of concern from my girlfriend after performing a couple of spells that exhausted me would be nice."

I slant my head. Partly, he's teasing, but the undercurrent remains. "Are you okay, Rowan? You used a lot of magic in the last hour."

"Yeah. Fine. Thanks for asking."

"You are extremely confusing sometimes." I shake my head and look back at my paper. "Now, can you research the pocket watch online? There must be images of the stolen item somewhere."

"Maybe the mole took it?"

I look up. "I highly doubt the mole is a witch's familiar. It's dead and stuffed."

"Joke."

Huffing, I begin to write notes on this evening's discoveries. "I've asked you before, do not presume I know when you're joking."

I've barely written a word before Rowan takes the pen and paper and kneels in front of me. "Maybe you should stay tonight to keep an eye on me, in case I succumb to the shadows?"

I arch a brow. "There would be succumbing but not to shadows."

Tipping my chin, Rowan places his lips on mine in another soft kiss, and my hand curls around Rowans neck as I return his affection. The buzz of our bonded energy tingles through me.

He rests his head on mine. "Is that yes or no?"

Once over, I would've threatened to fling Rowan halfway across campus if he attempted to demonstrate physical affection. I've hated people touching me as long as I can remember, and I never expected the witch who delighted in infuriating me would be the one to change that.

But then I never knew about our connection, nor would I admit that although I'm half my psychotic father, I'm also half of my mother, Eloise, who's less about killing people and more about connecting and caring.

A realization that I did not welcome at first.

Not that I'd ever lose the dark and deadly hybrid who runs through my soul and becomes more uncontrollable as the days pass, especially when people threaten those I care for.

If anybody hurt my four friends, they would forfeit their lives.