Page 29
In contrast to the bright lab, the hallway was dark and illuminated only by flickering oil lamps. It appeared they were in a cellar of some kind. Or perhaps a dungeon? That would seem more fitting for the Dawson estate.
Once inside the bathroom, she ran cold water over her scar, which always felt soothing and grounding. Closing her eyes, she tried to focus on what was important now: her potion. This was it. Her chance to get it right.
When she returned, she started working right away. Dawson loosened the black paisley ascot tie around his neck and opened the first button of his winged shirt. He sat nearby, intently reading his book.
She worked for hours. He was surprisingly quiet, giving her time and space to focus on her potion. She had expected him to be annoying, to constantly tease her or ask questions just to get a rise out of her. But he remained focused on his book, taking notes and drinking a fair number of gin and tonics.
“Winters?” he finally interrupted her thought process as she was preparing several different test sections.
“What?”
At some point during the night, he had taken off his jacket and tie. He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s almost six in the morning.”
She checked the clock on the wall. Where had the time gone? “Right.”
“Let’s continue tomorrow night.” With a quick spell, he had everything tidied up and her research locked under a protective spell. “Usually, I don’t have girls this late at the estate unless they spend the night.”
She suppressed her sigh and eye roll because it would only please him to see her annoyed.
“Well, I will be the exception to your rule.”
“I do like a challenge.”
She couldn’t keep the sigh in anymore, and her frustration made him smile.
“Perhaps tomorrow then?”
Her face grew hot. “How about never?”
He clicked his tongue against his teeth and walked closer. “What did I just say about challenges, Winters?”
“Just coin travel me back so I don’t have to hear your voice anymore.”
His hand wrapped around her elbow, and her heart rate increased. He had succeeded at making her squirm with just an innocent touch.
“I guess, in my absence, you will just have to dream about me,” he said as he brought her closer, prolonging the whole coin travel ordeal as long as possible.
“I only have nightmares,” she snapped back.
“Mmm.” His voice was too deep and sensual for her liking as his eyes danced over her face. “Even better. I’ll be in your nightmares, then.”
He flipped the coin and plunged them into darkness.
9
The week ticked by. During the day Mira learned about demons, how to best defeat them, and how to unlock her control signifier. She met Ella for lunch and sometimes dinner, and the rest of the time she locked herself in her room and worked on her research, grateful for the Highmage’s help whenever she needed it. At night she met with Dawson. She worked while he sat in his chair, drank, read books, and took notes. Luckily, she could avoid him during the day because he didn’t have the same courses as her—aside from combat, and Obryn had determined she wouldn’t have combat again until she acquired her first signifier.
Whenever she passed Dawson in the hallway, she hugged the books in her arms tighter and stared at the ground, hoping he wouldn’t notice her. Most of the time he was surrounded by the same group of friends, including Amelia, who always gave Mira a knowing smirk.
—
On Friday, Mira stood by the crypts at the old cemetery, overly eager to start work on her blood theory. Dawson was never late, and with each minute that slipped by, it became more and more difficult to ignore the grim statues surrounding her. She swore they were making faces at her. To distract herself, she stared at the little bells tied to each grave, an old tradition left over from when healing wasn’t as advanced and people were terrified to be buried alive. The string of the bell was connected to the body’s finger. If they were still alive, they could ring the bell. She wondered how often that had happened.
She checked the time again. Dawson was ten minutes late. He better have a good explanation.
If something had come up, he surely would have left her a scroll. Had he said something about not meeting tonight?
A cold wind pushed in a fogbank until Mira couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. And then, in the silence, she heard it. A bell rang in the distance. Then another. And another. Until all of them made their desperate plea into the darkness.
