Page 39 of Ashes and Lilies
“You’re late,”Dr. Stephens said. The professor was sitting next to the window, his elbows on the table, as he rested his chin on his fist. Damen—who’d been lightly guiding me through therestaurant—dropped his hand back to his side as Dr. Stephens’s gaze lowered to the space between us.
I glanced at the onmyoji. Why was he suddenly shying away from physical affection?
But then again, he had been acting strangely since we left the school. During the drive, he’d been uncharacteristically quiet, and his thoughts were unreadable on his mercurial face. For someone who was so obnoxiously chatty on the normal, it was difficult to determine what he was thinking.
However, his manners remained on point even if his focus was elsewhere. He was ever attentive—albeit even more respectful than before—as he opened the car door for me and guided me as we walked. He watched my face any time he touched me, and there was a weird expression in his eyes I couldn’t quite place.
He was being gentlemanly, perhaps.
In fact, if it weren’t for Dr. Stephens’s presence, this would almost have felt like a date.
And, finally, I would get to eat.
“Sorry.” Damen held out my chair in the seat across from Dr. Stephens. “We were dealing with Finn.”
“Say no more.” Dr. Stephens held his hand in the air. “I understand completely.”
But a breath later, the older man seemed to change his mind. Dr. Stephens leaned forward as Damen sat beside me. His eyes gleamed with interest. “Actually, no,” he said. “You should probably tell me.”
“We’ve got a lot to discuss,” Damen said. His leg brushed against my thigh as he bounced his knee. Although there was ample space at the table, he seemed to sit so close.
Not that I was complaining.
Dr. Stephens suddenly looked between us a second time, anunspoken question in his eyes as he lifted a brow. Damen’s proximity had not gone unnoticed.
Thankfully, he didn’t address it, even as the echo of the first warning he’d given me replayed through my mind. What had he said? I’d have my heart broken. It was easy to see why—in context—he appeared baffled at Damen’s actions now.
Someone should probably clue him in on recent developments.
“Finn is the least of our concerns.” Damen folded his arms on the table. “Have you heard about Caleb?”
“Have I heard…?” Dr. Stephens glared at Damen. “How could I miss it? I much preferred him the other way.”
Damen tilted his head. “He’s here? Good. That’ll make things easier.”
“Who…” I started to ask—I didn’t see anyone else—but my question was answered before I could finish my sentence.
Mr. Weaver popped into view, hovering above the seat beside Dr. Stephens. “It’s about time you’ve arrived. We’ve been wasting away waiting for you. Have you been dallying about while the injustice of my murder remains unsettled? You aren’t very good detectives.”
It was as I had suspected. Why did it have to be him?
Mr. Weaver nodded toward Damen. “And that fool needs a refresher on etiquette. When in a proper relationship, a man must—”
“Oh, shut up.” Dr. Stephens rubbed his temples. “They aren’t in a relationship. Also, for the record, you’re not the one who has been wasting away waiting. You’re dead.”
“My body is, in fact, decaying.” Mr. Weaver glared at him. “That’s what happens when you die. Why haven’t you cried yet?”
“I want to cry, but for an entirely different reason.” Dr. Stephens pinched the bridge of his nose. “Caleb—”
“You can see ghosts?” I interrupted, staring at the two ofthem. Of course, it made sense… the others had told me he was a Proxy Officer.
I couldn’t believe that I’d been afraid he would lock me away when I first met him. Why didn’t he tell me? Instead, he’d played dumb while I was in peril.
How awful.
Besides, wasn’t he also a forensic psychologist? There must be moral laws being broken. “Isn’t it cheating to be able to talk to ghosts when you help solve murders?” I asked.
Did he really earn that doctorate?
