He wore different clothes. Dark-washed jeans held up around his hips by a black belt, a steel gray shirt under his gray coat, and leather gloves. Under the fluorescent lights, his thick hair was so white there were silver undertones.
He was here, and I tried relaxing in my chair.
Clarence walked to the front of the room to join Augustine, and the rest of Norse Woods took their seats. The Heathens, however, never sitting in meetings, stood near the left wall.
As the crowd settled, Stone scanned the room for me.
And then I was hit by sable eyes.
His shoulders softened, and he leaned against the wall.
Hi,he mouthed.
Just like that, a smile warmed my face.Hi.
And a lazy, boyish grin slanted on his lips.
Eight Hours Earlier
“It’sa good thing you brought her here right away,” Agatha Blackwell muttered under her breath, her eyes scouring my back. “The wounds are fresh and open, so there’s still a chance.” She looked at Stone as though I wasn’t here. “Bring her to your room before anyone makes a fuss.”
Questionable Norse Woods gazes darted in my direction. I turned away, stepping up the grand staircase when a pain screamed up my back as though my skin was being ripped apart. The searing heat of it took my breath away, and I paused, my nails sinking into my palms to fight for my breath back.
Stone stepped up behind me and took my hand. “I have you.”
Once we reached the second floor, I wanted to pass out from the pain.
Stone led me down a hall until we were stopped at the first door on the right. “Here.” He gestured, pushing open the massive door that looked to be five feet taller than him. I took in the room as he guided me to the bed.
In the dark bedroom, the curtains were drawn open. The balcony doors looked like paned windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, allowing the full moon’s light to shine through. Wainscoting decorated the white walls, and a picturesque fireplace greeted me on the left. A cold draft played upon my skin and made me shiver. The bed was deep, rich wood and faced the fireplace. A mirror stood in the corner of the room. A candelabra rested on top of the nightstand next to a few books.
The room was bare, minimal, tidy, yet still felt more comforting than the one I was currently staying in. Maybe because this was where Stone laid his head.
“Zephyr says I can trust her,” he said quietly so no one who happened to come in behind us would hear.
“You can.”
“She’s from Norse Woods. Are you not bothered by this?”
“I’m not bothered,” I reassured him. “I’ve known her my whole life.” I looked back at him and attempted a smile, but it was weak. “I don’t hate Norse Woods, Stone. I’ve only ever had a problem with the Heathens.”
“Oh, good. I’m relieved,” he said, amused as he helped me onto the bed.
“But I don’t want to get blood on your bedsheets.”
“It’s all right.” He took my elbow and helped me lay on my stomach.
Agatha came into the room with Julian.
“I flipped through the book,” she said. “Herbs and oils would be beneficial, but they would not be as effective as magic in this situation, both in terms of healing and leaving a trace.”
Her gaze crawled across my back as Stone peeled my shirt over my head. The cotton felt like it was ripping off another layer of skin, and I squeezed my eyes shut and took quick breaths.
Agatha’s face scrunched. “If you want his name off her, you need magic.”
Julian crossed his arms against his chest, facing his mother. “We can’t practice or exhume our magic. It’s ... disabled.”
She ripped her eyes from me and looked at him. “Disabled?”
