Page 30 of Blood Moon
“No … abouteverythingelse.” Julian stepped back, and I scanned through every detail I knew about him, drawing blanks. “It’s not safe for you to be around me.”
“But why?” I asked, frustrated. “You said that my existence caused you agony, and then you spared my life when you didn’t have to—when, according to you, it would have made your life easier. You say you’re not safe, that you hate me, and then you go and do this. I need more than just one-word answers from you. At the very least, don’t you think I deserve that?”
There was a flicker in his eyes. A look that said he was deciding how he wanted to craft his next few words, as if all of existence depended on it.
I felt a heavy weight on my chest while I waited, unsure what would come from this, but as I watched him, and he watched me, I felt an ominous pull between the two of us—an invisible thread that tethered our cores, anchoring us to this very moment.
“I do believe you’re deserving of it,” he uttered, eyes low. “And if it were up to me, I’d tell you. I’d say everything, but—” He paused, came really close. “But I’m bound by an oath. I can’tsayanything,” he whispered, and I watched his lips—watched how they pressed thin before releasing.
Before I could respond or process this new information, he snapped his head to the side, listening. Then, all in one breath, “Follow me out of here, please.” This time, it felt urgent. A warming there, at the center of my chest again, and an internal voice urged me togo, go, go.
We hurried between the trees, and all the while, it felt as though someone was perched up on a branch, tracking my every move. Each glance confirmed that no one was there, but it didn’t release me from the terror.Everything is a sign,Rena had said, and this was a clear one.
Out of the woods, my breathing was less labored, my muscles less tense. I sensed the same in Julian as I kept my distance behind him. We stayed in silence as we walked to campus, and I mulled over the last words he shared with me.He would tell me, but he couldn’t. There was an oath involved, which meant there were other people that were concerned. Of what? I didn’t know. These woods weren’t safe. He still wasn’t safe … and yet, he saved me.
It wasn’t long before we were close to Hester Hall. The sidewalk split into two, and he paused in the center of it.
“Thank you,” I said, still numb. I didn’t have to say for what because he already knew. But despite my reservations about him, expressing my gratitude seemed fitting.
His gaze drifted to my necklace again, and without a beat, he was gone.
Now, more than ever, I needed to find out what this damned family heirloom meant.
CHAPTER17
We wanted power just as much as they did.
That was the first moment I lost you, brother.
Article III, Lost Letters from Aadan the First
Every search led me to a dead end. Links to various websites shared the same recycled information, most of which offered a variety of opals—the prices ranging from low to extremely high. Not a single site alluded to magic, protection, or anything otherworldly. As I landed on yet another useless site with ridiculous ads, I grumbled in aggravation. There was more to this; there had to be. And I remembered how Abba regarded the necklace when I’d seen her days ago—her eyes had flashed with an understanding—perhaps she could help.
In the late afternoon of the following day, I went to the Bowman building in search of Abba. As hoped for, I located her in the Sutton Museum, cleaning a glass case while jazz music played in the background.
When I greeted her from the lobby, she didn’t look up as she cleaned, but there, in a sliver of shadow, a smile crawled to her lips. It was almost as if she was expecting me.
“I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon,” she said with a lightness, and she casually strolled in my direction. “What brings you by? More fantastical tales?”
“Not exactly.” I unclasped my necklace, ignoring the inner voice telling me not to. I was unsure how to explain it, but I felt different without the pendant against my chest—like a barrier had been broken.
There was a sparkle in her dark brown eyes when she approached the desk, glistening as she leaned in, curious. I almost faltered. “Can you tell me anything about this?” I asked.
She considered me, twisting her lips before pulling out a pair of silk gloves. A small tremor set in her hands when she reached for it; her tone shifted, an uneasiness there.
Abba cleared her throat, tilted her chin. “Striking. Absolutely striking.” She flipped on the switch to the nearby lamp. In a second move, she opened a drawer and pulled out a magnifying glass. “You see, opals originated from a cave in Kenya around 4000 B.C. As enchanting as this piece is, it would be nearly impossible for it to have originated from the same family of opals that was discovered all those years ago.”
“Why impossible?”
“In fairness, most modern opals are imported from Australia, which is where I believe this opal is from. It would also be impossible because, well, I don’t know anyone who has heirlooms passed down from 4000 B.C.… do you?” She watched me with a knowing glance and raised a brow.
I shook my head promptly. “Is there anything else you can tell me about it?” I pressed with an understanding that Abba believed in the paranormal. Certainly, there was more to this heirloom, some sort of magic giving it life.
She watched me before tilting my necklace in a different direction, the light catching on the gold. Perhaps she knew my inner thoughts. “There are long tales that contradict themselves on this matter. Some stories suggest opals contain the evil eye and generate the kind of bad luck that beckons death. Others suggest they’re embedded with years of good fortune and love when passed down from generation to generation. And then there’s the eccentric, those who have always understood that these gemstones have been bound by magic to protect against monstrous creatures and evil spirits.”
I fixed my gaze to the case that contained the folklore of werewolves in Kansas. A pause then. “But,” I started, feeling a skittering of tingles rush down my spine, “how? Where does the magic stem from?”
Abba flipped the switch for the lamp and placed the magnifying glass in a drawer. When she handed me the necklace, she watched as I clamped it into place, already feeling an ease. “Blessed, perhaps …” she said, removing her gloves. “By a very powerful witch. It’s a valuable piece, rare. Would be a shame if anything happened to it.”
