I looked around in confusion, finding that yes, yes this was my house. Those were my belongings and that was my door.
Then how the hell did I lose control so quickly?
Lowen headed for the vent. "Sheets and a blanket are in the hall closet if you need them."
Connor sat up when he found me staring at him. Well, to be honest, it was more of a fulminating glare.
"I can go, if you'd prefer."
I waved a hand at him. I would definitely prefer that, but Inara had a point. Connor's presence added an additional level of security. Someone would think twice about attacking if he was here.
"No, you might as well stay since you look awfully comfortable," I said.
"I am."
My lips twitched before I controlled my amusement at his response. If I wasn't careful, I’d find myself liking Connor.
He sat up. "I can force the will of the artifact to show itself as payment for letting me stay here."
I hesitated in the act of standing. "You can do that?"
He nodded. "Probably. It might be helpful to know why it chose you."
That it would, along with what it wanted and why it wouldn't leave me alone. If it wouldn't answer those questions, maybe I could at least convince it to stop being so damn vague.
I offered the book to him, not really expecting this to work, but willing to try anyway.
He took it, his forehead furrowing in concentration. A moment passed and then another. Around him power swirled, white and hot as its edges splashed against me.
He said something in a language I didn't understand and all that power condensed, spearing into the book.
A percussion threw me back in my seat, upending my coffee table and many of the decorations I had scattered throughout the living room.
A canned light in the ceiling popped out of place. Inara leaned through the gap. "What was that?"
I crawled to my knees and used the couch to shove myself upright. I'd really like to know that myself.
In the center of my living room stood a man. The same man I’d met once before in the spook library moments prior to the book attaching itself to me like a leech. His features were more mischievous and slyer than I remembered, but it was definitely him.
Somehow, I was less than surprised. I’d always suspected the two were connected. Though how a book could also be a man was still something I didn’t entirely understand.
His hair was curly and brown, sticking straight up from his head. Eyes the color of amber landed on me and he smiled.
"Hello, again, Aileen."
My expression filled with dislike. "You couldn't have made less of an entrance?"
My poor living room. It looked like a tornado had targeted it for demolition. I had a feeling it would never be the same.
He looked around, his smile never wavering. "I had not intended to meet you face-to-face so soon—if ever."
And this was the consequence of forcing his hand, I'd wager.
The man's gaze moved to Connor. "I take it this is the one who forced me into this form. Interesting friends you've made since our first meeting."
"What is your name?" Connor asked, not reacting to the statement.
The man was unnaturally still, his expressions skating across the surface of his face without really registering. There and gone as if they'd never been.
