Page 84 of Switching Graves

The first thing that catches my eye when I enter her messy space is the very old, very familiar leather-bound journals that I was certain were hidden deep inside a secret pocket of my office. Three of them are sprawled across her couch beside a spiral-bound notebook, as if she was in the middle of reading through them when she realized it was time to leave.

I step further into the room to confirm my suspicions, bending down to examine them more closely, and fiery rage scorches my chest when I see the familiar, manic scribbling of Finley Landry.

She’s stolen from me. Taken something that belonged to my family from right beneath my nose.

That absolutely will not go unpunished.

I straighten again, allowing my eyes to roam freely around the space. Now that I know she’s capable of such deception, I’ve got nothing holding me back from finding exactly what I came here for: answers about the woman who has taken over my every thought.

Who is she, and why is she so interested in the lost Landry boy?

There’s not much else here that wasn’t provided by the university. No family photos. No posters or art nailed to the walls. Hell, even her kitchen is practically as empty as when she moved in. Aside from a few belongings that have been haphazardly strewn around—a slipper beneath the dining table, a heap of blankets on the floor, a hoodie draped over the couch—she’s hardly made an impression here. If she were given ten minutes to pack her things and disappear without a trace, she’d only need five of them.

Why?

What kind of college-aged woman is so afraid to make any lasting impression?

Surely, one with secrets to hide.

I’ll have to confront her about it delicately. For now, I leave them exactly how I found them and make my way toward her bedroom.

It’s just as sparse as the living room, and I have the fleeting thought that maybe I won’t find anything from this violating attempt. What then?

An old music box is all that sits on top of her dresser. Her nightstand has a book and a phone charger strewn across it. When I open the drawer, I can’t help the smile that comes when I see the large, bright dildo buried beneath a few random things in her feeble attempt at hiding it.

I’ll be having fun with that in the future.

“What are you doing?” her feminine voice startles me from the doorway of the bathroom, and I throw the dildo back into the drawer like it’s on fire.

She waits expectantly for an answer. Her hair is wrapped up in a pink towel and the only thing covering her body is a thin nightgown that hardly reaches her thighs.

“You took a bath?” I dumbly ask. I might as well have the intelligence of a caveman with her standing there like that.

“Yeah, I took a bath,” she spits, and the towel bobs around on her head with every animated word. “Why the hell are you going through my things? How did you get in here?”

I don’t answer her. Instead, I take the few steps to close the distance between us, stopping when we’re toe-to-toe. She looks up at me in question, confusion and irritation marring her perfect face.

My hand reaches forward to cup her cheeks. She’s obviously uncomfortable with my presence, but she still allows the small bit of contact.

Penelope Ellery is supposed to be an empath. Even without proper training, natural instinct should be kicking in. She should be trying to reach into my mind or coerce me into speaking.

She’s not doing any of that. There is no resistance against the shields I keep in place around her.

This is the final confirmation that the woman before me either isn’t Penelope Ellery, or Divina’s precious daughter is a Null.

Both scenarios send a bolt of excitement through my chest.

“You are the most confusing, enticing little thing,” I mutter, my gaze locked with hers.

She scowls at that, then jerks her face away from me and steps back. Crossing her arms, she kicks her hip out and practically snarls at me, “answer my question. Why are you here?”

“Your door was open,” I explain cooly, resting one arm against the top of the door jamb in a dominant display.

“See how much bigger I am than you?” It screams.

She doesn’t back down.

“So, you just walked right in and started going through my things?”

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