flipped her off.
She glared at me, and returned to her note-taking. And I returned to my skull doodle, adding a jaunty pirate hat while Dr. Mayfair droned on about necromancy gone awry in fifteenth century England.
Mercifully, end-of-class bells chimed, and we all scooted from our seats. I threw my notebook and pen into my bag, lobbed it over my shoulder, and headed for the door.
“Miss Bartolucci. A word, please.”
Crap. I look longingly at the doorway, escape mere steps away, and then I dutifully turned around. “Yes, Dr. Mayfair?”
“You’re a bright girl, Molly. I know not everyone is as enthusiastic about necro lit as I am, but this is a core class required for graduation. Paying attention to details will benefit you—not only in this class, but in other areas as well.”
“Okay,” I said. She lifted a brow, so I added, “I’ll pay closer attention from now on. Promise.”
Dr. Mayfair looked at me, and I got the feeling she was trying to convey something more important than understanding metaphors written by authors long dead. In fact, she held my gaze for so long, I started to feel uneasy. “Is there something else, Dr. Mayfair?” I asked.
Dr. Mayfair blinked, as though she hadn’t realized just how hard she’d been staring at me. She pulled back a little and placed her pale hand on desk’s edge. I noticed that her fingers trembled.
“Did you know they made a movie about Keep Thy Soul ?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“I believe it came out in 1942. The film is black and white, and three hours long. They modernized the language, of course, but it’s still a fair representation of Parker’s excellent novel.” She straightened in her chair, and then waved me off. “Don’t be late to your next class.” She grabbed a red pen and attacked the student papers neatly stacked in front of her.
I was apparently dismissed.
I left the classroom, wondering why Dr. Mayfair let me know about the movie— and why didn’t I think of that already —and if I was just imagining the undertone of her “pay attention to details” message. These days, it was difficult to have a conversation without searching for hidden meanings and secret messages. Yep. Just another fab component of being the daughter of Anubis.
I LANDED ON my backside, and pain edged up my spine. I thought about climbing to my feet and letting Rath pummel me some more, but I was too tired.
“What’s the matter, brown eyes? You quittin’?”
“Yeah,” I said. Sweat dripped down my neck. We’d been training for more than hour, and with another hour to go for my “independent study” class, I figured I could take a breather. Plus, I didn’t want to get up.
To my surprise Rath lay down on his back beside me, close enough so that the tip of his fingers touched mine.
“You thinking about him?”
Him. Rick Widdenstock. First crush. First kiss. First soul. I had screwed up so bad. “Yeah. I guess so,” I said.
The guilt was still there, but those feelings for Rick? I didn’t know. We hadn’t been together long enough to have a real relationship. I had changed so much from the girl who had wanted Rick. And at the end? Rick’s feelings hadn’t compelled him to stay close to me. I had done that with my reaper magic—without even knowing it. He was my thrall, not my boyfriend.
Rath said nothing, and the silence between us was as thick as poisoned honey.
“The heart wants what the heart wants,” he said, his voice gruff.
I rolled onto my side and propped my head up, so that I faced Rath. He folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.
“I feel awful about everything I put him through … and sure, there’s grief there, too.” I struggled with how to express what I felt—jeez, I needed one of Dr. Mayfair’s metaphors. “I can’t say my heart wanted Rick then, much less now.”
Rath glanced at me. “Yeah? What does your heart want?”
You. I licked my lips, drawing Rath’s attention to my
She glared at me, and returned to her note-taking. And I returned to my skull doodle, adding a jaunty pirate hat while Dr. Mayfair droned on about necromancy gone awry in fifteenth century England.
Mercifully, end-of-class bells chimed, and we all scooted from our seats. I threw my notebook and pen into my bag, lobbed it over my shoulder, and headed for the door.
“Miss Bartolucci. A word, please.”
Crap. I look longingly at the doorway, escape mere steps away, and then I dutifully turned around. “Yes, Dr. Mayfair?”
“You’re a bright girl, Molly. I know not everyone is as enthusiastic about necro lit as I am, but this is a core class required for graduation. Paying attention to details will benefit you—not only in this class, but in other areas as well.”
“Okay,” I said. She lifted a brow, so I added, “I’ll pay closer attention from now on. Promise.”
Dr. Mayfair looked at me, and I got the feeling she was trying to convey something more important than understanding metaphors written by authors long dead. In fact, she held my gaze for so long, I started to feel uneasy. “Is there something else, Dr. Mayfair?” I asked.
Dr. Mayfair blinked, as though she hadn’t realized just how hard she’d been staring at me. She pulled back a little and placed her pale hand on desk’s edge. I noticed that her fingers trembled.
“Did you know they made a movie about Keep Thy Soul ?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“I believe it came out in 1942. The film is black and white, and three hours long. They modernized the language, of course, but it’s still a fair representation of Parker’s excellent novel.” She straightened in her chair, and then waved me off. “Don’t be late to your next class.” She grabbed a red pen and attacked the student papers neatly stacked in front of her.
I was apparently dismissed.
I left the classroom, wondering why Dr. Mayfair let me know about the movie— and why didn’t I think of that already —and if I was just imagining the undertone of her “pay attention to details” message. These days, it was difficult to have a conversation without searching for hidden meanings and secret messages. Yep. Just another fab component of being the daughter of Anubis.
I LANDED ON my backside, and pain edged up my spine. I thought about climbing to my feet and letting Rath pummel me some more, but I was too tired.
“What’s the matter, brown eyes? You quittin’?”
“Yeah,” I said. Sweat dripped down my neck. We’d been training for more than hour, and with another hour to go for my “independent study” class, I figured I could take a breather. Plus, I didn’t want to get up.
To my surprise Rath lay down on his back beside me, close enough so that the tip of his fingers touched mine.
“You thinking about him?”
Him. Rick Widdenstock. First crush. First kiss. First soul. I had screwed up so bad. “Yeah. I guess so,” I said.
The guilt was still there, but those feelings for Rick? I didn’t know. We hadn’t been together long enough to have a real relationship. I had changed so much from the girl who had wanted Rick. And at the end? Rick’s feelings hadn’t compelled him to stay close to me. I had done that with my reaper magic—without even knowing it. He was my thrall, not my boyfriend.
Rath said nothing, and the silence between us was as thick as poisoned honey.
“The heart wants what the heart wants,” he said, his voice gruff.
I rolled onto my side and propped my head up, so that I faced Rath. He folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.
“I feel awful about everything I put him through … and sure, there’s grief there, too.” I struggled with how to express what I felt—jeez, I needed one of Dr. Mayfair’s metaphors. “I can’t say my heart wanted Rick then, much less now.”
Rath glanced at me. “Yeah? What does your heart want?”
You. I licked my lips, drawing Rath’s attention to my
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