Page 77 of Ghost
But instead of looking angry, Ms. Protean was giving me an evaluative look instead. The predatory feeling was gone. After a moment, she spoke, “What’s your major?”
I flushed, taken aback. “B-Botany.”
“Interesting,” she replied, still studying me.
I shifted, and suddenly she pushed her glasses up her nose before pointing to her full coffee pot.
“Isn’t fate such a funny thing? I might not retire after all. Why don’t you get yourself a cup, dear.”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but I obeyed anyway.
Once I was seated again, Ms. Protean continued, “I was five when my sister was taken; Grace was nineteen. We were somewhere that we shouldn’t have been, and she had the foresight to hide me. They took her, but I refused to stay away. I was able to follow without being seen. We all knew Edward Cole—he was a judge who had been involved in our community’s workings for a number of years. So when she was taken to his residence—not the house that Aine owns now—I recognized him. She became his wife, and was heavily watched. But after some time, I was able to speak to her. She informed me that she did not wish to be rescued. And I, trying to appease my sister, agreed to keep her location a secret. To our family, she was dead. To the townsfolk, she became a recluse.”
There was a chill in the air, and it had nothing to do with spirits. This sort of story was the last thing that I expected. “How could no one notice? Was she forced to marry him?”
“She claims that she wasn’t forced, and she’ll still deny it to this day. But I know that she was. I’ll never forget the smell of her fear.” Ms. Protean wore a forlorn expression and her focus was elsewhere.
“Smell?” I repeated, and her gaze snapped back to mine. A gleam to which made me shiver in fear. Even so, I managed to ask, “Are you a shifter?”
It made sense. The growling at the library, her ability to randomly locate me, her glowing eyes. Her sense of smell.
“I get the impression that you aren’t very aware of where you are,” Ms. Protean mused. “But I’m not certain how that’s possible. But the way that you carry yourself indicates that you are entirely new to this.”
Oh no. Had I just committed a faux-paus by asking her if she was a shifter?Those sort of questions might have been rude in this culture…
And what did she mean, ‘where I was’? She couldn’t have meant theschool. Finn, who hid me from the paranormal, wouldn’t have us enrolled in a university for supernatural creatures? That would be entirely stupid.
But still, the look in Ms. Protean’s eyes was eerie. Would she eat me now?
“I’m T-Titus’ friend…” I stuttered, hoping this was the right thing to say. If she was such an important figurehead, then other shifters should know about him.
Her eyes cleared, and she tilted her head. “You are? That’s even more strange.”
Before I could ask what she meant, she had already moved on.
“Yes, I’m a werewolf. And yes, Grace was taken and forced to marry. But she chose her prison. She would rather have stayed with Edward Cole than to return to our pack.”
“But—”
“Grace is an omega,” Ms. Protean stated. “I shan't elaborate more than that, it is pack business. But know that she preferred a sham of a marriage than anything pack life had to offer.”
“So…” I mused, ignoring the scenarios running through my mind. Pack life must be difficult, if Grace hated it that much. “Does that mean that Edward Cole saved her? What does this have to do with Professor Hamway’s house?”
“Edward Cole married her, and did not treat her badly from my observations.” She spoke as though it was painful for her to admit it. “But when they wed, she was nineteen. He was fifty-one. Legally, she could consent. But there was nothing consensual about that union. And besides, I knew that he had not taken her to marry her. It just so happened that way.”
“Why not go to the police?” I asked.
“She chose to stay, the police could have done nothing. Even if it wasn’t Edward Cole.” Ms. Protean leveled a patient look at me. “And besides, if I had exposed her she’d have been forced back home. I didn’t want that either.”
“Why is being an omega such a bad thing?” I wondered.
Ms. Protean pursed her lips. “Another time, I think. When you’ve proven yourself.”
She gestured toward my notepad. “When you are new to the investigative world, you cannot stop taking notes. Note-taking is an important tool to organize your thoughts and teach you to think. Students make the mistake of putting too much faith in their memories, but memories are biased. When on a case, write down your observations. Even if you think they’re not important.”
Blushing, I realized that I’d stopped writing while Ms. Protean was telling me her story.
“Sorry,” I apologized and wrote down what she had said as best I remembered. “Do you know why your sister was kidnapped?”
