“I’m not a girl, and don’t underestimate me.”
“I admire your bravado. You’ll need that. Still, you must never walk into the enemy’s den without knowing anything about him.”
“To be clear, I came here to snoop, because that was the only way I could find out more about you. The gun was for protection, just in case. You were supposed to be busy teaching your class.” How had he known she was there?
“To be clear, if I was your enemy, you would be dead now. Moncrief wasn’t naming his murderer. He was trying to send you to me because, as his life ebbed, he knew I was your only chance of surviving.” In a voice under his breath, he added, “I’m sure he loved that.” He picked up the letter opener from his desk and ran his finger down the edge. “You want his murderer to face justice, do you not?”
“With every cell in my body.”
“Good.” He held the opener out to her, handle first. “Take it.”
She did, feeling the warmed metal against her palm and the curves of the dragon.
He raised his arms out to his sides. “If you’re sure I killed him, go ahead then. Take your revenge.”
She squeezed the handle and stared at a chest that looked so hard she wasn’t sure the tip would penetrate. He was taunting her. Daring her. She pressed the tip to the molded pec over his heart, just below the dragon’s mouth, and met his gaze.
“Could you do it, Ruby? As tough as you like to appear, could you sink a sharp object into someone’s flesh? It’s harder than you think. Physically and psychologically, even when you feel justified. Could you handle the feel of warm blood gushing between your fingers and down your arm?”
Every bit of the rage she felt since seeing the bolt piercing her uncle’s chest rushed in around her. “Yes.”
“Good.” He paused, staring into her eyes in a way that twisted her stomach. But nothing like his next words did. “You’ve felt it, haven’t you, a rage so hot and fierce that you believe you could take someone’s life? Even though that sane and civilized part of you abhors that ferocity, a darker part craves it.” Her denial withered on her tongue. He didn’t press her because he seemed to know she had. “Have you ever killed someone?”
She wanted to say one or two but somehow she knew he’d spot her lie. “I threatened someone. And I would have gone through with it, too, if he hadn’t paid for the merchandise.” She could hardly push the words out of her dry throat.
Nevin hadn’t bothered to check the slip of paper the hulk of a man waved in his face, and off the restored motorcycle went—without getting paid for. When she’d hunted the man down, he dismissed her as a mere girl. She threatened the creep with bodily harm—oddly, not with shooting him but tearing out his throat. He must have sensed her suppressed violence, because he paid on the spot.
“Killing is not easy to do,” Cyntag said. “And should never be done out of rage.”
“Are you speaking from experience?” It sure sounded like it.
His mouth twitched ever so slightly. “I don’t think we should go there just now.”
Which meant they’d go there later. And that she was right.
Cyntag smelled of earth and fire and—where in the hell were these thoughts coming from? His energy and heat pulled at her. Were his eyes glowing? She swore something flickered in them, just for a second.
He nodded to the point of the letter opener. “Why are you hesitating?”
She took a step back, bringing the opener to her side. “Because I can’t be sure you did it.” He was right. If he was Mon’s murderer, she’d be dead.
“Very good. You put logic over your anger. As opposed to when you pulled the gun on me or tried to crush my balls. Never let your emotions drive you.”
“I’m not a rash and emotional person. Then again, I don’t usually watch someone I love die or get chased by a supernatural ball of fire.”
He leaned against the door again, though she couldn’t be certain it was to block her escape. He looked so relaxed. Yeah, as relaxed as a lion. “What do you know about the Hidden?”
“It’s a fairy-tale world my uncle made up for me. How do you know about it?” She couldn’t imagine Mon sharing that with this guy. Or anyone, really.
“Tell me about this world.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously.”
Fine, she’d humor him. “Centuries ago, there was this Atlantis-like island in the Bermuda Triangle called Lucifera that was governed by gods of Dragons and magick. Because of the weird energy that comes from crystals found deep within the Earth’s surface, along with a planetary alignment and a solar storm, some of the gods were able to take physical human form. They succumbed to human emotions and, as Mon put it, ‘fell in love’ with the people. What he meant was that the gods got with the humans, because they created children. They were called Crescents because they inherited a sliver of their sire’s godly nature.”
He dipped his head in confirmation. “Legend has it that three gods realized procreating with humans wasn’t a good idea. An angel, a Dragon, and a Deuce formed the Tryah and incited a war in hopes that the Crescents would kill each other off. It escalated into a magick war.”
“Alrighty then, glad you cleared that up for me.”
“Happy to do so. Go on, let’s see if you’ve got the rest of it right.”
Feeling like a schoolgirl being tested on history, she found herself striving to recall the details. Which was ridiculous, since it was a friggin’ fairy tale. “The war ended up destroying the island and forced the humans to the mainland. The naughty gods were trapped in a state of limbo between their plane of existence and the Bermuda Triangle.”
“That’s right. What else was part of Moncrief’s Hidden?” he asked.
“Monsters, demons, elves, that sort of thing, but only Crescents could see them. That’s why they were considered Hidden.”
“Was there no Cyntag in the stories then?”
She wanted to laugh, of all the conceit. “No.” Her gaze slid to the dragon figurines. “There was a man who looked like you, but he was only known as the Dragon Prince. He kidnapped a young woman and seduced her to darkness. They fought a great evil together, but he was basically an arrogant butthead, and she ended up killing him.”
His upper lip twitched, not quite a sneer but close. “Seduced her to darkness, hmm? And did this woman have a name?”
“Garnet.” Mon’s sketches of her had reminded Ruby of Alice from Alice in Wonderland.
Cyntag slowly nodded. “I suppose he was trying to prepare you in his feeble way, giving you the truth without telling you that it was, in fact, true. Except the Dragon Prince would never kidnap anyone. How do I know? He based the prince on me, I’m sure, though I am no prince.”
“That I can believe.”
He very nearly smiled that time. “You never made the connection between Garnet and Ruby both being red gems?”
“Of course. I figured since he wrote the stories for me, he gave the girl a name similar to mine. Stories being the key word there, as in make-believe, fictional. Come on. Gods? Dragons?”
“You are the girl in the story. When you reached puberty, you should have been initiated into your full power. Moncrief could not do that because he’s not the same type of Crescent as you. You were supposed to move in with people like you to learn their ways. I swore to your grandfather that I would train you, prepare you, and be your protector. But Moncrief wouldn’t cooperate, stubborn old goat.”
He looked up at the ceiling and rubbed the back of his neck where his black hair curled in damp spikes. “You would have been so much easier to deal with then. Malleable. Impressionable. I can see you will be every bit the pain in my ass that your uncle was.”