Page 57 of Marked by the Demigod

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The next weekfinds her packing for a dual librarian conference and slutty Vegas trip, which is not as easy as it seems. She likes to pack light, pack with the ability to not check her luggage and to reuse the most outfits without actually being gross, but her librarian outfits and any slutty Vegas outfits are not generally compatible. So she gives in and pulls out her bigger bag, the one that still technically counts as a carry on even though it's kinda douchey.

Right on top of it, as if placed there so she'd notice it later, is a necklace. It's not one of hers or Trixie's, as neither of them own pieces that fine while still being subdued.

It's short, just a few inches longer than a choker, with deep blood red/black gemstone beads and alternating small golden circles, almost like chain links. It's weighty, with the stones, and even without taking it in for appraisal she knows that it's real gold.

If it wasn't placed in such a deliberate place, she'd assume that it somehow got mixed into her stuff by accident.

Whirling out of her closet, she faces the mirror and slowly, ever so slowly, clasps it on.

The dark gems glisten against her pale skin, highlighting the fact that she's hilariously untanned for living in Southern California. The gold shines, bringing out the tiny bleached highlights she put into her dark curly hair when this all started, and she looks like royalty. Like a princess long ago lost to time, all with a simple necklace found on her luggage.

Grabbing her phone, she snaps a pic in the mirror, and wishes that she had Iakov's number. She's used the luggage since the last time Rocky spent the night, and Trixie wouldn't spend the money on something like that without bugging her to find it.

She touches it, lightly, and tears bubble up in her eyes, and she flops onto her bed. The chain slides around her collarbone, cool, as if it's both trying to reassure her and trying to choke her at the same time.

Iakov, the same Iakov who took her out to food after a trip, and the same Iakov who leaves her alone in bed, can't be the same Iakov who'd randomly kill people and leave fancy jewelry where she would find it after a few months. It's too many...too many inconsistencies and too many different directions to be pulled in. He couldn't be as touching and as suave and as vulnerable and as...murderous...all at the same time, it's too overwhelming.

At least it’s not a ring.

She should probably send the pic to Katya, but she doesn't want to, doesn't want to deep in her gut, in case Katya takes it away. For now, as she presses deeper into her bed, so deep she can feel that one spring in the middle of her back, she just wants it to be hers. For him to be here and be normal, and that it's just a pretty necklace.

She falls asleep at that, pressing herself into her beds, her cats coming and curling around her feet, still completely unpacked and still wearing the necklace.

* * *

With the looming Vegas afterwards,the librarian conference passes with a blur of sensible clothing and her standard spiel for their software, leaving her with the distinct taste that she could do this in her sleep without anyone noticing different. Which isn't exactly a great feeling, but in terms of feelings lately it's hardly the most offensive.

Towards the end, almost in a haze, someone grabs at her elbow and she gets pulled into a hallway by a frowning and insistent Dave.

"Oh, hey," She says, once it becomes clear that he actually wants to chat with her.

He releases the vice grip on her elbow and blows out a sigh. "Long time no see?" he says, with a significant glance at the necklace on her collarbone.

She shrugs. "Haven't had any calls for the Pasadena library in a bit."

"Someone give you the necklace?" His voice is sharp. "It's glowing with energy."

She touches it, involuntary. "Well I think so?" She stares at him, and he stares right back, much more immediately intimidating than she is without any effort whatsoever. "Is that bad?"

He evaluates her for a bit. "It reads like a beacon, that you belong to someone, and someone big and powerful," he says, final. "No one will want to mess with you with that around your neck but..."

He pauses, his lips twisting, and for a brief second he looks unreal, like he’s something carved out of stone and smoke and anger.

"If you wanted to hide that you're with someone, that's not the way to do so. Everyone will look at you, everyone will see you, and...and..." he trails off, then shrugs, which is the most incongruous action in the moment.

Now that she's touching it, she runs her fingers along it. "I just thought it was pretty."

His eyebrows flash up, then he rubs his forehead. "So you know who it is now?" The other question is unspoken, but definitely heard.

"Yeah." Her phone buzzes, but she leaves it in her pocket. "Katya said...Katya said I shouldn't tell anyone. I asked, she said not even you."

He chuckles, dry, as if scraping the laughter over the desert. "Reassuring, isn't she." After a moment, he grips her elbow again. "Be careful with that? If your guy is so...drawn to secrecy, he shouldn't have given that."

And that crawls up and down her spine, and she wishes she had Iakov's number so a text wouldn't be amiss.

Dave sighs, and he appears much, much older, the veneer of humanity dropping like a stone. But instead of being as existentially terrifying as last time, instead it seems a hair sad and a lot tired. "Aimes," he starts, voice like gravel stretched across an old road, "Aimes, be careful."

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