Page 14 of Stay Close
“Dolphins are the murderous jerkwads of the sea,” she declares. In answer to my look of confusion, she follows up with a shrug. “I read it somewhere.”
CHAPTER 5
Edie
An hour in thecar with Lucas is an exercise in noticing even the smallest details. His suit coat has been laid aside and he navigates the car in his dress shirt, the sleeves rolled back over his forearms, reaching for the control panel with the competence of a man who has only ever driven one kind of car in his life and it’s this car, on this road.
“Hot?” he asks, glancing at me.
Yes. Very hot. I fan myself from the passenger seat with a loose piece of paper and shake my head. My thoughts over the last few days will not be solved with a simple thermostat adjustment.
He reaches for the control panel, and I close my eyes, reciting the details of landmark Supreme Court cases. Marbury v. Madison, McCulloch v. Maryland… By the time I reach Miranda v. Arizona, we’re dropping into Arnhuis, a medieval university town, dotted with gothic buildings and lacy spires.
“Most of the buildings date back to the reign of Malthe III. This valley was never conquered,” I say, my recitation of random facts the only shield against wanting to hold Lucas’s hand.
“No surprise.” As we slow with traffic, Lucas leans into my shoulder and points to the rough-hewn ancient fortress looming over the town. I can’t breathe. “Somebody was smart to build that so big. Raiders would see this from the river and decide there were easier pickings.”
He settles back into his own seat, and I place a palm against the cold glass of the window. This isn’t his fault. He doesn’t know I’m going to combust. He doesn’t know how hot I find him.
He guides us through narrow streets of the city, finds a carpark, and walks me through the campus of Arnhuis University, right to the carved doors of the library. No marching half a mile in the wrong direction. No parking on the wrong side of the university grounds. From this point forward, every blind date and swipe-right will pale in comparison to his intensely attractive mastery of every detail.
“Like it?” he asks, pointing to the intricate stonework.
You don’t get early admission into Harvard without seeing the inside of a library or two, but this one isn’t a structurally-sound, American copy of a medieval building. Itisa medieval building. I tip my head back, and my mouth falls open. “This is huge,” I whisper.
“Keep looking,” he says, taking my arm and leading me up the steps. “I’ve got you.”
He guides me like that until we come to the door of Professor Zwist’s office. Finally, I stop gaping, only to find that the professor who answers our knock is young, gorgeous, and looking at Lucas with what my grandma used to call ‘bedroom eyes.’
I introduce myself, adding, “Thank you for making time for me.”
She pushes her glasses to the top of her head and stretches her hand forward. “And this is…?”
“My personal protection officer,” I say, edging her into the room. “He’ll wait outside while we speak.”
Lucas slides me an enquiring look, but I catch the slightest smirk as he takes up his position, back to the door, facing the gallery.
“That must be distracting,” the professor chuckles, pointing to a chair and switching on an electric kettle.
I keep my face smooth and blank.
“No?” Her brow arches. “Well, then.” In a blink, she remembers her extensive education and professional training and reaches for a stack of books. “I’ve prepared several things for you. The translation quality varies, I’m afraid, but we’re lucky to have any English versions at all.”
Her hand rests on a book. “I have to say, I admire your approach. I suspect the governments filled your report with geographical surveys and military battles.”
I nod. “Binders full of DNA results, fishing revenue numbers, and the location of potshard heaps.”
“Good information but not the only information. The spiritual soul of a place is a bigger question than data. It’s history and poetry, too. It’s folktales and imagination.”
I offer a friendly smile. “I worried about sounding like a witch, when I approached you. You know, floaty sleeves, preparing a sacrifice for the eldritch moon. I have to cast a net wide to get the whole picture.”
“It’s the only way to go about it,” she agrees. We begin at the top of her stack, discussing the points of view and shortcomings of each of the books. I scribble notes on a legal pad, ripping them off and sticking them in each cover as we go. We’re on the last one when I hear an urgent tap on the door.
The professor and I, lost in the poetry of the Sondish Seas, exchange a look when Lucas pushes the door open. “Edie, time to go.”
“Now?” I fumble with a library bag, but he scoops up the books and dumps them in.
“What’s going on?”
