Page 200

Mr. DeLoughrey was about to say something, but I stepped into the hallway to join them.

“It's okay,” I said, faster than I could think. “He won't break anything.”

Julie looked up, looked directly at me, and, as always, my gaze lingered on her heart-shaped face, before my eyes wandered to the almost shoulder-length, loose, platinum blonde strands falling across her face, one over one of her eyebrows, which were darker than her uncommonly light hair. Her snub nose was reddened, probably from the cold outside.

“Professor...” Mr. DeLoughrey began, and I was forced to look away from Julie.

“I take full responsibility,” I clarified.

The dog looked up as if he had only just now noticed I was there and began wagging his tail. Then he trotted toward me, but Julie's leash prevented him from getting any closer.

I stepped toward Julie and held out my hand.

She blinked at me, probably confused, because, as always, I found it difficult to interpret her inscrutable expression.

Mr. DeLoughrey looked me over. His left eyebrow twitched.

Then Julie finally managed to hand me the leash, while the dog was already sniffing my shoes wildly.

Her cold skin brushed against mine, and I resisted the urge to look up to check if she was startled again.

Without hesitation, I turned around and led the dog past them both into the lab, even though I immediately regretted it.

Why had I done that? There was no room for a puppy here. And how could I take on responsibility if this furry bundle jumped on the tables and destroyed experimental equipment worth five figures?

Overwhelmed, I looked down at the dog whose life I had already saved once. He was wagging his tail while panting with his tongue hanging out, and drool was dripping onto the lab floor.

Jesus Christ.

I looked around and spotted some free space near the coat rack, where I led him and secured him with the leash so that he could still move a bit.

Resisting the urge to pet the dog, I turned around to Julie, who was standing in the doorway. Bastien had disappeared. Only she was left.

She was staring at me, like she always did. And like every time, I had to resist the urge to confront her, to ask if something was wrong, if she wanted to say something.

I would have loved to look inside her head. This girl was a dangerous mystery, and I knew that the last thing I should do was try to figure her out.

Frightened by this thought, I tried to focus on the present.

“He won't break anything, will he?” I asked, pointing to the puppy.

Julie looked at her dog as if she wasn't sure herself.

“Damn it, Julie. Why did you bring that fur ball to the lab?”

She looked at me contritely, and I returned to the table to continue preparing one of my experiments.

“I didn't want to leave him with the other Quatura girls,” she began hesitantly. “They hate him.”

I chuckled softly. “Sounds more like they hate you.”

All I had found out about her so far – through Miles DeLoughrey, mind you – was that she lived with other Quatura in one of the student accommodations. And if they hated her, that said a lot about her role within the Circle.

I wanted to know more, including about the structures and hierarchies of the Circle, but something held me back from asking her of all people.

I looked at Julie, who, at that moment, broke out of her stupor and hurried to the coat rack, where she took off her coat and exchanged it for one of the white lab coats.

My gaze lingered on her neck, where a control stone should have been, but she never wore one. A fact likely connected to her atypical element.