Chapter Forty-Two A Single Rug Is Worth A Thousand Words
Eva and I exchange a look as Jean-Claude bends down to get a closer look at it through the streaming rain.
“Run!” I whisper to Eva as I prepare to fight Jean-Claude for the tapestry.
Common sense says I should let it go, but there’s something really odd and magical about the damn wall-hanging. The Jean-Jerks are the last people on the entire island that I want to be in charge of something with that much power. Every instinct I have is screaming at me to make sure I hold on to it.
“I’m not leaving you alone with him,” Eva snarls. And then we both move closer, looking for a way to yank the tapestry back from him.
But as I bend down to get it, I realize it’s changed again. Gone is the warning from earlier and in its place is a family of manticores, sitting around a table smoking cigars and playing poker.
Holy. Shit.
It heard me. It actually heard what I was saying and changed to help me out.
What kind of magic carpet is this thing?
Jean-Claude snarls when he gets his first good look at the tapestry. “Seriously? This is your family heirloom?”
“Hey, that sounded very judgmental,” Eva scolds him as she crouches down to help me roll the tapestry up. “Everyone’s family has their own special thing. Just because yours might not enjoy playing poker—”
She breaks off as another explosion of lightning splits the sky. “We should get out of here,” I say uneasily. “Before we all end up crushed under a falling tree.”
As if to back me up, the trees that line the path creak ominously.
Jean-Claude shoots the waving branches a worried look before backing up. “This isn’t over.”
“I kind of feel like it is,” I tell him as I pick the rug up and sling it over my shoulder. Once again, it weighs almost nothing, and we start back down the path to our cottage.
This time, he’s too busy booking it in the opposite direction to even think about stopping us.
“What the hell?” Eva says, shouting to be heard above the storm. “We almost got mugged for an old, enchanted tapestry.”
“Actually, I think we almost got mugged for something a lot more complicated than that,” I tell her. I still can’t believe the thing can listen to what goes on around it—and can change accordingly. “I just wish I knew what this thing actually was. What I do know is that something isn’t right.”
“Well, I don’t like the sound of that,” she shouts over the howl of the wind. Then she nearly gets knocked over as she picks my umbrella up from where I dropped it and tries to hand it to me.
But the storm has gotten worse in the time we’ve been standing here, and a gust of wind slams into us, knocking me back several feet.
“I know we just hid this from your mom, but Jean-Claude’s attitude changed my mind. Now I’m wondering if we need to call in reinforcements. What do you think?”
“I have no idea,” I answer as we start walking. The wind and rain are coming so furiously now that we’re almost bent in half as we force our way through it. “I agree that something’s weird about it, but I don’t have a clue what it is.”
“What about talking to Jude about it? If he was in the cellar, he obviously knows something about what’s going on.”
“Yeah, but that just means he could be involved,” I shout to be heard over the storm. “It’s not like he’s told me anything about it.”
“Have you asked him?” When I remain silent, she gives me a look. “How can you know what he knows or doesn’t know—or what he’s doing or not doing—if you don’t talk to him?”
It’s not bad advice. It really isn’t. But still, I instinctively start to say no. Then I think about the look on Jean-Claude’s face and reconsider. Maybe I need to manticore up and talk to Jude about this damn tapestry. Maybe he can help.
Or maybe he’ll tell me something that sets my teeth on edge.
Either way, though, it might be time I actually ask.
“Maybe,” I agree as we finally get to the covered picnic area in the center of the mall. It’s left over from resort days, and while the tables aren’t in the best shape, it provides a little bit of shelter from the elements, and right now I’ll definitely take it. “If I can ever pin him down for longer than a few seconds.”
“Text him,” she suggests.
I seize up. “Oh, I don’t think—”
She rolls her eyes and yanks my phone out of my back pocket. “Obviously, your relationship—whatever it is—is going through some kind of shift. He saved you today. Twice. Plus, I saw the way he looked at you when he carried you out of the dungeon. It won’t bother him at all if you text him.”
“I don’t care if it bothers him,” I tell her. “I care if…”
“If what?” she asks impatiently.
“I don’t want to look…”
“What?” she demands when I trail off again.
“Needy, I guess. I mean, he kissed me again today and then rejected me again. What about that says, ‘I’ll be there for you when you need me’?”
“Oh, I don’t know. How about when he saved you from dying unmeshed?” she asks archly. “Or when he saved you yet again from the grossest monster in existence? The guy obviously has no problem being there when you need him.” She holds my phone out to me. “Besides, it’s not needy to try to get information from the one guy who seems to have a clue about what’s going on. Text the boy already. Ask him your question.”
She’s right. I’m totally not the kind of girl to stand around dithering about what a guy is going to think of something she does. And the awkwardness between me and Jude isn’t about to change me into that, either. So I fire off a quick couple of texts in a row, refusing to let myself think about if he’s going to answer or not.
Me: Are you done at the menagerie?
Me: Something weird is going on, and I was hoping I could talk to you about it
Me: Something even weirder than what’s already happened, I mean
When he doesn’t immediately answer, I shove my phone back into my pocket and start walking again.
“He’s probably still shelling out snacks for the monsters,” Eva tells me.
It’s my turn to roll my eyes as we leave the relative safety of the covered patio and turn the corner and start down the path that leads to our cottage. “I know. It’s fine.”
“I know it’s fine. I was just saying—”
She breaks off as the door of the first cottage on the path flies open, and a lean, muscled arm drags her inside.