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Everything about Julie Blair was strange. Everything pointed to her hiding something.
The soft sound of my new Hozier record brought me back to the present.
“I don't understand,” I thought aloud, searching for Miles' gaze as he walked past the record player, his eyes fixed on the artifacts from my expedition to Greece. “What exactly did you do?” I tried to ignore that he had just touched a Mesopotamian cylinder seal relic and decided to get a glass case for all the relics in this house to protect them from Miles' careless paws. “You spied on her? Were you at her house?”
I laughed, overwhelmed and incredulous at the same time. To distract myself, I let my gaze wander to the large Victorian pointed window.
It was snowing again.
Memories flooded my mind: her head pressed against my chest, chaos of ice surrounding us.
A tingling sensation rushed through my stomach, causing my jaw to tense.
Great, even my window wanted to remind me of this strange, dangerous girl who confused me around the clock and fueled my paranoia in a way that even the Councils were incapable of.
“Do I look like I'm voluntarily breaking into that nuns' madhouse?” Miles asked amusedly.
I laughed quietly because the comparison was apt.
“I talked to her.”
Gripping my cold crystal glass until the pointed pattern pressed into my skin, I looked back at him.
“Talked?”
I tried to believe him, but I didn't understand how much the two had to do with each other or why Julie Blair would talk to a Ruisangor...
“Who do you think she is?” I tried not to let the burgeoning madness in my chest become part of my voice. “And above all, it's very naive to believe that even one of her words is true.”
Snorting, I took a big gulp.
The devil's brew burned my throat, and for the first time, I wondered if the days when I drank whiskey for pleasure and not to numb all the stress would ever return.
“I'd give my right arm for it,” Miles said, raising both hands, the expression on his face serious. “She's trustworthy.”
What the...
“I don't like that you know her,” I voiced my concerns aloud. “How could I ever have said yes to this devil's bargain?”
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Miles seemed trustworthy, but everything I knew about him suggested the opposite.
“It's called a partnership, and so far, you're profiting more from me than I am from you.”
Miles walked over to my bookshelf with a self-satisfied grin.
“Whatever,” I grumbled, leaning back again.
“Don't worry,” he continued. “Backstabbing isn't my way of dealing with people I don't like.” He knocked over a skull from Mexico – something that was nearly impossible – and quickly put it back in place. “I prefer to resolve issues in a direct manner.”
“You cause issues,” I ground out, forcing myself not to watch him nearly tear my house apart every five seconds. “Just look at how often you get into fights with the Senseque.”
He attracted attention. That was not an advantageous trait for a suitable partner.
“That's something personal,” he laughed. “But back to your problems.”
I suppressed a frustrated groan.
