Chapter 14
Her thumb rubbed over the stone, the pressure familiar and reassuring. It calmed her while she sat waiting to meet her new boss at the FBI.
I blew out a breath, annoyed.
Don’t be so hard on yourself, sunshine, Sylvia told me in a tone that I’m sure was meant to be reassuring.
It would be easier if I could make any actual progress, I retorted. I had gone back to Cass’s worry stone so that there wouldn’t be any additional unpleasant surprises while I tried to figure out how to stay aware of the world around me while experiencing other people’s memories.
So far, I wasn’t having much success.
Over the past few days, I’d essentially thrown myself into trying to improve my psychic abilities, not because I thought that would somehow endear me to Raj again or make him forgive me, but because at least if I could be helpful, it might show that I was committed to the case itself, and that I wasn’t some sort of stalker.
He probably wasn’t going to forgive me, but I could hope, at least, that I’d be able to keep helping on the case. Or, if not this one, then some future case.
Or maybe I’d never work a case for the FBI again. Maybe I’d have to settle for the extremely rare occasion when Detective Maza would bring me something, or send it through Seth Mays, but that was pretty rare. Ward and Mason were far more useful to the police than I was.
I wanted to be able to do something more. To be appreciated for something more than just answering phones and occasionally determining if something was or wasn’t a murder weapon.
What do you think is stopping you? Sylvia asked.
I glared at her. If I knew that, I’d fix it.
Sunshine, you’ve made incredible progress, she informed me. You can’t expect to suddenly be able to do everything you want, just like that. But, she continued, you can try to figure out what’s happening.
What’s happening is that the second I touch something, I’m… overwhelmed. Swamped. Like a tidal wave.
Well, then try to think of it like a wave, she replied.
I stared at her, uncomprehending.
Haven’t you ever played in the waves at the beach? she asked me.
No. Have you?
She smiled. Arthur and I used to go out to Virginia Beach, she replied. You have to jump into the waves, she continued. When they come in, you aim for the crest and either have to jump high enough to keep your head above water, or dive in and come through the other side if it’s too high.
Is that supposed to be helpful? I asked her.
Think of it as a metaphor, she replied, her empty eyes sparkling.
So I’m supposed to jump or dive? I had no idea what that meant, metaphorically speaking.
Exactly.
I rolled my eyes. I feel like diving in is precisely the problem.
Dive through, not in, came her response.
Right. Through.
I wiggled the fingers on my left hand—the one I’d been using to touch things—preparing mentally to try again.
She wasn’t sure she’d ever wear through the stone, but Mom had told her that if she kept it long enough, eventually she’d be able to rub through it.
“Goddammit,” I hissed, leaning back in the chair.
Just keep trying, Sylvia suggested.
I sighed. “I know,” I said out loud, although even I could hear the defeat in my voice.
“You know what?” Ward asked, rolling out.
I felt my face heat. “I was talking to Sylvia,” I explained. “I just…”
Ward was smiling. “I switch back and forth, too, sometimes,” he said, sounding amused. “And I don’t always realize when I’ve done it.”
I nodded, my face still hot, although it was cooling.
“Anything I can help with?” he asked.
“I don’t think so,” I answered. “But thank you.”
“What are you trying to do?” he asked.
I sighed. “To be able to not disappear into the memories,” I replied.
“When you have a vision?” he asked.
I nodded.
He blew out a breath. “That seems like it would be extremely useful,” he remarked. “And probably difficult.”
I nodded again.
“And you’re right. I can’t help.” He smiled. “But if you think of anything I can do, let me know.”
I nodded, even though I didn’t mean it. I wasn’t going to ask anything more of him if I didn’t have to.
He started to wheel himself down the hallway, then paused, turning back. “Rayn?”
“Yes?” I asked.
“I’m proud of what you’re trying to do,” he said. “And of how far you’ve come.”
I nodded, unable to speak around the sudden surge of emotion until I’d swallowed a few times. “Thank you,” I managed.
“Hey, kid.”
I nearly jumped out of my skin as Hart stuck his head around the corner of the kitchen doorway. I managed not to drop the disposable paper cup, despite the fact that I had spilled hot tea all over myself. I switched it to my other hand, shaking drops off my fingers. “Hello, Hart,” I said.
“Sorry, Rayn,” he apologized, holding up one hand. I noticed he had the plastic baggie with the red velvet box from the necklace in his other hand.
I grimaced. “It’s alright,” I replied, knowing that was what I was supposed to say, even though I hate it when people sneak up on me.
“Can I get you to do a deep dive on this fucking thing?” he asked, holding up the box in its baggie.
I nodded, then followed him into his old office. I wasn’t surprised—although I was a bit disappointed—that he was alone. Raj hadn’t come along.
I didn’t blame him. If I were him, I wouldn’t want to see me, either.
But I did want to see him, even though I also didn’t want to see him at the same time because I still felt incredibly guilty. I wasn’t going to say any of that to Hart, though.
I wondered if he knew. What explanation Raj had offered—if any—for why he hadn’t come along this time. I wasn’t going to ask.
I sat across the coffee table from Hart, who opened up the baggie and slid the box onto the table’s surface. “I need to know when she got it, if you can tell me that,” the elf told me.
I blew out a breath. “I’ll try.”
Before I touched it, I tried to remind myself to dive through, not in or under. To think about trying to keep my head above water as much as I could.
For all the good it was likely to do.
She ran her hands over the soft red velvet…
No. Earlier. The first moment she’d touched it.
She picked up the box, a black satin ribbon tied around it, pulled through the hole in a heavy cream-colored business card that read ‘Capital City Jewelers,’ the typed message ‘With love’ just below. She’d rather have Simon home, but at least the gift was a reminder that he was thinking of her.
It had been almost three weeks since she’d last seen him—when he left to go back to D.C.
“When did Senator Adams last leave Richmond for D.C.?” I asked Hart.
“What?” he jumped a little.
I blinked a few times, coming back into focus. “She received the box three weeks after Senator Adams last left for D.C.” I paused. “No, almost three weeks after,” I corrected myself.
It had come while she was at yoga. The staff always opened packages. In fact, she wasn’t even allowed to, so she wasn’t surprised to find it unboxed on the table.
“The package arrived while she was at yoga,” I told him.
Hart sat up. “You’re sure?”
I nodded. “Yes. She does it regularly, I think. It felt like something habitual.”
“You can tell if something feels habitual?” he asked.
“Yes.” I refocused on his fine features. “People think differently about things they do all the time versus things they only do occasionally or things they’ve only done once.”
“Huh,” came the response. “So it came during yoga, just under three weeks after Adams left for D.C.” He made a note on his tablet. “That’s… extremely helpful.”
Then he looked up at me, his expression hesitant.
“What else do you need?” I asked him. What I’d already done had drained a lot of energy, but I was willing to do more if he wanted me to.
“The killer,” he replied, an expression of guilt on his face.
“What about him?” I asked, already steeling myself. I didn’t like his thoughts. As much as I wasn’t a fan of anyone else’s memories, some people’s were definitely worse than others.
“Well,” Hart hedged, shifting a little. “And the enchanter.”
“You want to know if the box came to the killer with the necklace.” It wasn’t a question, but I wanted him to confirm it.
“Yeah, if you can.”
I drew in a deep breath, then let it out.
“I can,” I replied, trying to keep the exhaustion and distaste from my voice.
Ward made a point of never letting clients see if he’d been worn out by summoning spirits or didn’t like one of their dead relatives.
I figured the same general policy should apply to me.
He closed the lid, smoothing one hand over it before tying the black satin ribbon…
No. Earlier.
He pulled the red velvet box out of the wrapper, a smile on his face. It definitely looked expensive enough to be worth putting the necklace in.
I sighed, dropping back out.
“He bought the box,” I reported. “The killer. The enchanter never touched it.”
“For this?” Hart asked.
I nodded. “He needed it to look like it came from a jeweler.”
“Damn,” was Hart’s response. Then he sighed and picked up the box, putting it back in its baggie. “Thanks for checking it again.”
I nodded. “You’re welcome.”
He paused on his way out, just long enough to squeeze my shoulder with one hand.
I watched him go, surprised. As far as I could recall, that was the first time Hart had ever touched me.
I wondered why now.
I was staring half-blankly at the computer screen, most of the way through my final paper for Arcane History.
It wasn’t the best thing I’d written, but it wasn’t the worst, either.
I wasn’t worried about it. It would be more than good enough to pass, and while I enjoyed getting good grades, I also had enough perspective to recognize that whether I got a C or a B or an A on it ultimately didn’t matter.
I already had a job, and you couldn’t yet major in psychic abilities, so the skill that was going to keep me employed—at least at Beyond the Veil—didn’t particularly care how I did in my history class.
Mason might, just on a personal level, because he was an ex-history professor, but aside from that, my grades didn’t much matter.