Page 10 of Ashes and Lilies
“You shouldn’t be strong enough to pull a stunt like this. What did you do?” Mr. Weaver snapped. He edged away from the bird, eyeing it warily. “Regardless, you can’t exorcise me—Gregory wouldn’t take that kindly.”
“We’ll see.” Damen didn’t sound at all frightened. “I wouldn’t count on his good-natured feelings. Dr. Stephens has only less than pleasant things to say lately.”
“Hold on.” I latched on to Damen’s arm, looking up at him. “Dr. Stephens, your mentor? Damen, you can’t exorcise his friend.”
“Watch me.” Damen didn’t seem to be conflicted about this at all.
“I’m not his friend,” Mr. Weaver replied simultaneously. “We are, unfortunately, brothers.”
That was an even stronger bond than friendship!
“Damen!” I tugged more urgently. He was going to lose his internship, all to defend my honor. “Damen, don’t—”
The tension in his arms relaxed slightly, and after a moment, he sighed. “Fine.” He sounded put out. “But another demeaning word toward Bianca, and I won’t hesitate.” He uncrossed his arms, and before I even had time to register what was happening, he pulled me back into his embrace.
There was something strangely possessive in how he held me, and the feel of his much larger frame wrapped around mine caused my cheeks to grow warm.
Damen and Mr. Weaver continued to bicker over my head, but it was impossible to follow their conversation. My focus turned to the following problem: Damen’s change in attitude since my identity had been revealed.
I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it, but since it’d come out thatI was Mu, Damen’s intention behind his physical touches seemed different somehow. More sincere, but also a bit sad. His recent actions had made him harder to ignore, but I must—for the situation had drastically changed. From what I thought before was a test of our friendship’s boundaries, I now knew it to be something more: demonic possession.
“Abernathy!” someone shouted, and the conversation around me halted. Damen’s hand tightened on my shoulder as a dark-haired officer with a handlebar mustache stepped onto the porch.
“Seth collapsed,” the serious-looking, pale-skinned officer said. “I think he’s been poisoned. I have to make sure things don’t escalate. Can you—”
“Right.” Damen rolled his shoulders. His hold on me loosened as he reached into his jacket. “I’ll take care of it. Thanks, Jamie.”
By the time the man went back inside, Mr. Weaver had disappeared and Damen was already on the phone. I couldn’t make out the whole conversation as Damen relayed the news, but the muffled voice on the other end sounded similarly calm and collected.
Completely unlike me in any emergency.
An officer had been poisoned. What happened to the bystanders in situations like these? I’d probably be asked to provide a testimony. Maybe I’d even become one of the primary suspects.
My breathing increased as my chest swelled. What a terrifying—yet thrilling—turn of events.
“And, Titus,” Damen’s smooth voice recaptured my attention, and I craned my neck as I looked at him. “I’d hurry if I were you. Bianca’s here, and who knows what might happen.”
My breath caught. Titus was coming? Butwhy?
Damen returned his phone to his pocket, mumbling something before suddenly stiffening.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. His attitude shifted, and he grabbed my shoulders, turning me to face him. “Bianca, you didn’t eat anything, did you?”
“No!” I fought the urge to slap away his hands. I couldn’t believe he thought I’d steal random food from a crime scene. I had standards. “Why did you call Titus?”
“Why?” Damen frowned, confusion entering his expression. “Are you still afraid of him? I thought the two of you worked that out.”
I wanted to pull out my hair in frustration. “I’m talking about the dead police officer! What does Titus have to do with any of this?”
“Oh.” His panic abated, and he waved his hand. “Seth isn’t dead. And what did I tell you about relaxing? Your cortisol levels must be extremely high.”
“Whose fault is that?” I pointed at him. Was everything a joke to him? “But he’s been poisoned! He could die. Why aren’t you worried?”
“Poison won’t kill him,” Damen responded dryly, ushering me toward the doorway. “In fact, it will probably do him some good.”
I remained at a loss for words as we returned to the crime scene.
3
