that they told you everything you needed to know. I don’t think you have any obligation to play Nancy Drew for the Parker family, you know?”
“That’s pretty great advice.”
“I have my moments.”
“Hmm. Well, anyway, did you want to head outside with me?” I bobbed my head toward the window and the strip of blue fall sky I could see through it. “It looks pretty nice out there. Might be fun to get some fresh air.”
She shook her head. “Nah, that’s okay. I need to get some work done.”
“Schoolwork? Did I miss something in class?”
Crimson crossed her cheeks. “No. I’m just working on something.”
The words sounded casual, but the tone definitely didn’t. I didn’t want to push her,
but I wondered if this was going to be another one of those locked-door nights for Scout. If so, what was she doing in there? Not that it was any of my business . . . until she decided to tell me, anyway.
“No problem,” I said. “I’ll see you before dinner.”
“Go for it. And if you decide to break into the SRF building to figure out the goods on your parents, take your cell phone. You never know when you’re going to need it.”
A few minutes later, I stood on the front steps of St. Sophia’s, my sketch pad and pencils in my bag, ready to walk to the Portman Electric Company building and begin my investigation. I mean, my sketch.
But that didn’t make my feet move any faster. I felt weird about going there—not just because I was trying to be sneaky, but because I recognized I might learn things I didn’t want to know.
What if my parents were involved in something illegal? Something unethical?
Something that shamed them so much they had to hide it from me? Foley certainly thought it was something that could get them in trouble. At the very least, it was something I wasn’t supposed to know about . . . or talk about.
Problem was, my imagination was doing a pretty good job of coming up with worst-case scenarios on its own. St. Sophia’s was practically next door to the SRF,
and I’d seen the letter in which they tried to convince my parents to drop me off at St. Sophia’s. Plus, the SRF did some kind of medical research, and Foley had said my parents did genetic research.
And now . . . the Dark Elite had a medical facility?
That was the rock that sat heavy in my stomach, making me rethink all the memories of my time with my parents. After all, if they’d lied about their work, what else had they lied about?
I shook off the thought. That was just insecurity talking. They were my parents.
They were good people. And more important, they loved me. They couldn’t be wrapped up with the Reapers.
Could they?
I know Foley told me to keep my mouth shut. I know I wasn’t supposed to ask questions, to put them at risk. But I had to figure out what was going on. There was too much on the line. That was why I kept putting one foot in front of the other, until I was outside the stone wall that separated St. Sophia’s from the rest of the world and walking down the sidewalk toward the SRF building . . . at least until someone stepped directly in front of me.
I looked up into blue eyes.
Sebastian.
He spoke before I could even think of words to say.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Get out of my way.”
Instead of answering, he took a step forward. This was the closest I’d been to him, and being closer just made the effect that much more powerful. Maybe it was because he was one of the bad guys, but there was something undeniably wicked about him.
But I’d seen enough wicked. I gave him a warning look. “Don’t take another step.”
“I swear I won’t hurt you,” he said. “And we both know that if I’d wanted to hurt you, I could have already done it.” Ever so slowly, he lifted both hands, as if to show he wasn’t holding a weapon. But as long as he had firespell, his weapons were his hands.
“Why are you following me?”
“I told you why. Because we need to talk.”
“We have nothing to talk about.”
He glanced around, gaze scanning the sidewalk like he expected Adepts to attack any minute. And maybe they would. He was in our territory. “Not here. We have to talk somewhere more private.”
“You want me to go somewhere alone with you? Are you high?”
“No, I’m not high.” His voice was flat. “But I am serious.”
“So am I. I also know which side you’re on, and it’s not mine. Give me one reason why I should do anything other than blast you right where you’re standing.”
“I’ll give you two. First, we’re standing in the middle of a public sidewalk. You and I both know you aren’t going to do anything here. Second, I’ve already saved your life once, and I came to your rescue yesterday. I’ve given you a reason to trust me.”
He would play that card. And while I still didn’t trust him any farther than I could firespell him, I did wonder what he was up to.
“I’m going to need a better reason than ‘you didn’t kill me when you had the chance.’ ”
“Because there are things you need to know about firespell. And if it will ease your mind, I’ll use this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a flat, gleaming dog tag on a thin chain.
“A dog tag?”
“It’s a countermeasure,” he said, slipping the chain over his head. When the flat of the metal hit his shirt, he squeezed his eyes closed like he’d been hit with a shock of pain. When he looked up at me again, his stormy eyes seemed dull.
“It neutralizes magic,” he said, his voice equally flat. If he was telling the truth,
then it was like the magic had actually permeated his personality. Take the magic away, and the spark disappeared.
“It’s more effective as a protective measure if you’re the one wearing it,” he explained, “but I’m guessing you’re just suspicious enough to say ‘no’ if I ask you to put it on.”
“I’m careful enough,” I corrected. “Not suspicious.”
“Then both,” he said. “I can appreciate that.”
I gave him a look that I figured was plenty suspicious, partly because this guy was just likable enough to make me nervous. He wasn’t supposed to be likable.
Scout might have been the one to pull me into the world of Reapers, but Sebastian was the one who made sure I couldn’t get out again.
“Ten minutes, Lily,” he repeated.
I took a moment to consider his offer, then blew out a breath. One way or another, I was going to have to get off the street. If Scout—or anyone else from St.
Sophia’s or Montclare—saw me talking to him, there were going to be lots of questions.
“I’ll give you five minutes. And if I don’t like what you have to say, you can kiss consciousness good-bye.”
“I think that’s fair.” He glanced around, then nodded toward a Taco Terry’s fast food restaurant across the street. The restaurant’s mascot—an eight-foot-high plastic cowboy, lips curled into a creepy smile—stood outside the front door.
“Why don’t we go over there?”
I looked over the building. The cowboy aside, there were a lot of windows and a pretty steady stream of customers in and out—tourists grabbing a snack, or workers out for lunch. I doubted he’d try anything in the middle of the day in the middle of the Loop, but still—he’d supported Scout’s kidnapping and he’d put me in a hospital for thirty-six hours.
He must have seen the hesitation in my eyes. “It’s a public place, Lily. Granted, a public place with paper napkins and a really, really disturbing cowboy out front, but a public place. And it’s close.”
“Fine,” I finally agreed. “Let’s try the cowboy.”