Maybe I should call the campus police.But something about him made me pause. It had almost felt as if we’d met before, but that was impossible. I’d remember someone like him, especially with those eyes, such a handsome face, and the strange tattoo.
Besides, I planned on taking care of this myself. I didn’t know how, but I’d figure it out, and Iwouldget my necklace back.
I imagined Daddy showing up and asking where his precious gift had gone. It represented the last time I’d seen or spoken to him, which made it even that much more priceless to me.
“Phoebe, this is yours. Never take it off and never lose it, okay?” His blue, stern eyes burrowed into mine. “Promise, okay?”
My nine-year-old self had nodded. “Okay, Daddy.”
He slid it around my neck then kissed my forehead. “I love you.”
I wiped tears from my eyes, the pain of the memory a hot poker stabbing into my stomach.I’m going to strangle Cain when I find him.
But there was nothing to do right now. I’d bide my time. The necklace wasn’t worth anything money-wise, so he’d get a rude awakening if he tried to pawn it. His clothes and brusque manner made me wonder if he might be a teacher’s assistant instead of a student.
But why steal the jewelry?
I shook my head. My shift started in five minutes, and I had no desire to be late. With a sigh, I headed into the library’s cool air and breathed in the musty, papery perfume of books and nutty coffee from the coffeemaker on the table in the corner.
Determined to put the incident out of my mind for the rest of the evening, I waved at my coworkers and grabbed a printed stack of flyers for BU’s Angels and Demons Halloween Masquerade happening in a few days to distribute amongst the tables and study alcoves.
When my path took me to the floor-to-ceiling windows near the entryway, I couldn’t help scanning for the gorgeous, frustrating thief. Only the deepening shadows of twilight and wilting flowers stared back.
Chapter 7
Cain
As soon as I roundeda corner, I blinked home.
What. The. Fuck?
The necklace, still clenched in my hand, swung from my fist. Never, in all the years I’d lived, had I ever stolen something so petty. Souls? Sure, I captured those all the time—lovedthe rush of power with the claiming. But a piece of metal? It did nothing for me.
But seeing it nestled around her neck like a shield, reminding me of our first meeting in the cave yesterday and how I’d nearly choked the life out of her, sent the blackness in my soul soaring—the shame taunting me, teasing me, challenging me.
“There’s no protection for you, Phoebe.” I paced to the darkened sitting area of my home and mentally switched on the lamp next to the couch.
