Page 141 of Death of the Glass Angel
“You’re the closest thing the world has to a god of knowledge.” Janus continued. “Take another look. Surely you have. . .” She trailed off.
Snap. Gemellus pulled his pocket watch out and nervously played with it. He was on edge.
Why did this necklace bother him?
“Surely you have some idea.” Janus finished her thought. Mimicking the pouty face Eros had made often—and to much success—Janusbatted her eyelashes pitifully at her tutor. “Father hired you because you’re the best.”
A silly move. Gemellus couldn’t see. Maybe the pitiful tone in her voice would suffice.
The pocket watch snapped closed, and Gemellus sighed heavily, tentatively reaching forward to touch the necklace. “I suppose I can take another look.”
Grinning, Janus sat back. She’d managed to achieve something, however small.
And she’d take any win she could get, right about now.
“Hm.” Gemellus turned over the glass angel, snapping his pocket watch open and closed in the other hand. Sors padded over, ducking between Janus’ legs and peering out at the tutor.
Gem looked up. “Do you know why it is called ‘the glass angel’?”
“No.” Janus shook her head. “Nothing in their scrolls mentioned this.”
“It’s probably a metaphor.” Gem continued, fingers trembling on his pocket watch. “A glass angel grows once a year, by its lonesome. Rare. Beautiful. Fleeting. Dead too soon.”
Janus studied the glittering wings. “But it’s just a necklace.” She watched him steady his trembling hand. “What’s wrong?”
“You remember Des, now.” He said. “Her life. Her experiences.”
“I didn’t tell you that.” Janus pointed out. “How did you know?”
“I’m omniscient.” He smirked at her. “Des. What do you think of her?”
“Oh.” Janus tapped her fingers on her cup. “She’s a lot more confident than I am. Sarcastic. Kind of. . . well, kind of a bitch. But not necessarily in a bad way.” Janus paused. “It doesn’t feel like remembering me. It’s like she’s an entirely different person.”
“She is,” Gemellus assured her. His voice was strangely sad. “She is unrecognizable from you. The very air changes when she emerges or recedes to let you forth. I can tell, just from that.”
“Can Evander?”
“Oh, he can.”
Silence fell over the camp as Janus thought. It was difficult to concentrate, given Gemellus’s continued fussing with his watch.Click. Click.
“Janus,” Gemellus said. “Des. Do you think she deserves her own life? Or do you think she’s but a shadow, better consigned to the darkness?”
The question took Janus off guard, and she sat silently for a few minutes. She had never considered such a thing before, nor did she understand why Gemellus was asking. Up to this point, for seven years, Des had been. . . conflicting.
The days of fog, when Janus could not recall her words or actions, made life difficult. But, when troubling memories or situations arose, Janus would fall into a kind of sleep, allowing Des to take the reins and. . . the protection was a great comfort.
“I have no idea,” Janus finally admitted.
“Hm.” Gemellus tapped the pendant. “This is anmarite.”
“I figured as much.”
“Very old, too. Look at the wear marks.” He tapped the bulb. “Supposedly, anmarite can amplify nearby magic.Supposedly.” He reiterated.
“I haven’t noticed,” Janus said.
She leaned back, creasing her eyes. Or had she? Racking her brain, she tried to remember.
