The Evolution of Mara Dyer (Mara Dyer #2)(43)

“Actually, I’ve arranged for us to meet with your new guardian. Why?”

“I was going to suggest you sleep in my room, this time.”

Noah gave me a sly look. “Not that I’m necessarily opposed, but why?”

The words Jude was in my room congealed on my tongue. When I finally spoke them, my voice sounded different. Terrified. I hated it.

I hated that I was afraid of him. And I hated the way Noah tensed when he saw it.

So I swallowed hard. Then lightened my voice. “He left me a little present in my underwear drawer,” I said casually, working hard to fake it.

Noah’s eyes never left mine, but his frame relaxed just slightly. “Dare I ask?”

“The doll,” I explained. “He must have seen me throw it out.”

“Mara—”

I shook my head. “He was probably watching creepily from some bushes or something.”

“Mara,” Noah said louder.

“The neighbor’s hedge is really tall,” I went on. “What is wrong with him?”

“Mara.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t Jude,” Noah said quietly.

“What wasn’t Jude?”

“The doll in your bedroom. He didn’t put it there.”

I blinked, not getting it. “Then who did?”

It felt like forever before Noah finally spoke.

“You.”





27





WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” MY VOICE was quiet. Shaky. “I threw it away.”

Noah nodded. “And then later you woke up and got out of bed. You didn’t say anything, so I assumed you left to get a drink or something, but given recent events, when you didn’t come back, I followed you. You left through the back door.”

Invisible fingers tightened around my throat. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I thought you were awake,” Noah said, his voice measured and even. “I asked what you were doing and you said you made a mistake—that you threw away something you wanted to keep. You seemed completely with it; you walked outside and I watched you take the doll from the waste bin and bring it back inside. You went to your room and then nearly came back to bed when I suggested you wash your hands first. You laughed, you did, and then you came back to bed and promptly fell asleep. You don’t remember any of this?”

I shook my head because I wasn’t sure I could speak. Nothing like this had ever happened before; I had nightmares, sure, and I blacked out before, yes. But this was new.

Different.

Like my reflection in the mirror.

I swallowed hard. “Do I look different to you?”

Noah’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“This morning, after—after I found the doll in my drawer,” I said. After I put it there, I didn’t say. “I looked in the mirror and I feel like—like I look different.” I glanced up at Noah, wondering if he saw it, but he only shook his head. “Look again.”

Noah took my face in his hands then and drew me close. So close I could see flecks of navy and green and gold in his eyes as he studied mine. His stare was incisive. Piercing.

“Right?” I asked under my breath.

Noah said nothing.

Because I was right. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

His eyes narrowed until all I could see were slits of blue. “You don’t look different,” Noah said. “Just . . .”

“Just different.” I pulled away. I was frustrated. Anxious. I glanced in the direction of my bedroom, in the direction of the doll. “Something’s happening to me, Noah.”

He was distressingly silent.

Noah knew I looked different. He just refused to say it. I didn’t know why and at that moment, I didn’t even care. There was one thing on my mind and one thing only. I stood up. “Where are your keys?”

“Why?” he asked, drawing out the word.

“Because I want to burn that doll.”



My parents would be disconcerted if they saw me light a fire in our backyard and burn a doll I’ve had since I was a baby, so we needed somewhere else to do it.

“You have a fireplace, right?” I asked him as I headed toward the front door.

“Several, but we can’t leave.”

I closed my eyes. “Joseph.” Damn.

“And you. If we’re not here when your parents get back—I’m sure I needn’t remind you of your recent psych ward stint.”

As if I could forget.

Noah ran a hand over his jaw. “They trust me here, with Joseph, for an hour, maybe. But I can’t take you out alone.”

“So I’m trapped here indefinitely.”

“Unless . . .”

“Unless what?”

“Unless we bring them along.”

I stared at Noah, waiting for the punch line.

That was it, apparently. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not? An invitation to the Shaw abode would go a long way with your mother. She’s desperate to meet my family—Ruth can distract her while we light fires and chant.”

“Not funny.”

A half-smile appeared on Noah’s lips. “Yes it is,” he said. “A little,” he added as my eyes narrowed to slits. “But if you’d rather they didn’t meet, I could burn the doll for you—”