Page 18 of Lessons with the Mothman

You're catastrophizing, my therapist's voice soothed in my head.

I exhaled and answered.I'd love that. I'm good. Studies are picking up, but I can make time. Let me know when and where.

I waited for a minute, then hurriedly typed out a "How are you?" but minutes ticked by with no answer.

Still, she had reached out first this time. That was…progress.

The estrangement with Emma felt more like an accident—an embarrassing consequence of her and Brett's relationship. I'd never directly told her that I thought they made more sense, that I wasn't angry or hurt, but happy for her. It had felt too patronizing. Or vulnerable. I wasn't sure which.

My thumbs hovered over the screen, debating another message to leave unanswered, when fate intervened with a text from a new direction.

We have volunteers available for a demonstration and interview. I can arrange a comfortable, private location. Weekends during the day are best for them.

My breath caught. A demonstration. It had been an idle suggestion, a goal I hadn't expected to be able to achieve. I wasn't even entirely sure how to pitch it to Stanton, and if he suggested attending that too, well…I would ask Elias to turn the offer down.

Wouldn't I?

A naga and a minotaur, in case you're curious. Should be…robust. Feel free to swing by the bar to discuss.

I huffed out a laugh, then made sure no one was nearby to witness my flushed face and giddy, nervous trembling.

I wanted to run to the table and tell Lyle, but he would know how excited I was and all the myriad reasons for that excitement. Plus, everyone else would be there. I didn't mean to avoid the rest of our classmates, but they'd known me best when I was with Brett, and afterwards…

I was still learning who I was, now that I was living without a set of instructions.

Don't be nervous. They do this sort of thing for fun.

My cheeks swelled with a grin.

I'm free next Saturday.

Now I just needed to sort out the best way to keep Stanton out of the picture.

CHAPTER 7

Victoria

I passedthe address twice before stopping on North Hoyne and counting every house number, turning slowly to the Victorian brick monstrosity at my back and squinting. Had Elias given me the correct street address? I'd assumed we'd be meeting at a hotel, and while this place was large enough, it looked more like a private residence.

I dug into my bag at my hip, searching for my phone to text Elias, when the front door—the frontdoorsat the top of a high set of stone steps with two little Welsh dragons roaring in greeting at the base—cracked open, surprisingly quiet for how heavy they looked. I shrank, afraid I was about to be accused of…something, when a fluffy golden head peeked out.

"Lock the gate behind you," Elias called down.

Only years of social training kept me from gaping back at him. Questions could wait until I didn't have to shout them across a well-manicured lawn from the other side of a beautifully maintained wrought iron gate. It also refrained from any groans or creaks as I pushed it gently open, turning and latching the heavy tumbler lock behind me.

Elias shouldered the door open as I ascended the steps, glancing side to side every moment. Were we breaking into an abandoned mansion? No, of course not; it was too well kept. A history museum, perhaps?

"Elias…whereare we?" I whispered.

He left me enough room to slide inside, my body brushing against his and then stumbling into a dim entry, my steps scuffing against dense carpet as I waited for my eyes to adjust.

"I didn't say? My home."

The thunk of the door closing covered the hitch of my breath at his response.

Hishome?

"That's not inappropriate for your study, is it?" Elias asked, but I was too busy marveling over his answer to consider the ramifications for the study.

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