The Evolution of Mara Dyer (Mara Dyer #2)(49)

“What about ‘dagger comma symbol?’”

“Opened another tab already but alas, said search has generated not much.”

“Did you try ‘feather and dagger symbol’ together?”

“Indeed. Nothing there, either.” Noah snapped his laptop shut.

“How many hits did you say the feather thing brought up?”

“Nine million or so. Give or take.”

I sighed.

“But most of the first ones were all to the Egyptian goddess,” Noah said cheerfully. “That’s something.”

“Not . . . really.”

“Well, we’re further ahead than we were yesterday.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Yesterday when I woke up to find that I’d been sleepwalking.”

“Point.”

“Yesterday when I was ready to blame my should-be-dead stalker for the creepy doll-in-underwear-drawer incident.”

“I see where you’re going with this.”

“Good,” I said, handing my grandmother’s pendant to him. “I was starting to worry you didn’t care.”

“Is that what you think,” Noah said coolly. Then, “Why are you giving me this?”

“I don’t want to lose it,” I said. But I didn’t want to wear it, either.

Noah studied me carefully, but his fingers closed around the charm. “I have someone looking into the Jude issue,” he said then, his voice level. “A private investigator my father’s worked with. He’s trying to find out where he lives, which is proving difficult since he’s completely off the grid, and apparently isn’t stupid enough to use the illegal immigration channels for help.”

I rubbed my forehead. “He was kind of stupid.”

“Well, he’s not acting like it.”

“Maybe he has help?”

Noah nodded. “I’ve considered it, but who besides you even knows he’s alive?”

“Another question,” I groaned. I flopped down on the bed and then turned my cheek to face Noah. “Why didn’t you tell me you were looking for him?”

“I don’t tell you everything,” he said indifferently.

The words stung, but not as much as the way he said them.

“In any case,” he said, “about the pendant, at least now we know that at some point, your grandmother and my mother crossed paths through whoever made them. I’ll look through her things and see if I can find anything else.”

I was quiet.

“Mara?”

I shook my head. “I shouldn’t have burned the doll, Noah. I should have looked for a seam or something—”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“There was a piece of paper, too.”

“I saw.”

“It could have been the answer to all of this.”

Noah lightly tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “There’s no point worrying about it now.”

“When would be a good time to worry about it?”

Noah shot me a look. “No need to get snippy.”

I bit my lip, then let out a breath. “Sorry,” I said, looking up at his ceiling, following a pattern of swirls in the plaster. “I just—I’m worried about tonight.” My voice tightened. “I don’t want to go to sleep.”

I didn’t know where I’d be when I woke up.





30





NOAH STOOD UP SUDDENLY THEN, AND CROSSED the room. He locked his door as he met my eyes.

“Risky,” I said.

Noah was silent.

“What about our parents?”

“Never mind them.” He moved back to his bed and stood beside it, looking down at me. “I don’t care about them. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it,” he said. “Tell me what you want and it’s yours.”

I want to close my eyes at night and never be afraid that I’ll open them up and see Jude.

I want to wake up in the morning safe in my bed and never worry that I’ve been anywhere else.

“I don’t know,” I said out loud, and my voice had this awful, desperate tinge. “I’m afraid—I’m afraid I’m losing control.”

I’m afraid I’m losing myself.

The idea was a splinter in my mind. Always there, always stinging, even when I wasn’t conscious of it. Even when I wasn’t thinking about it.

Like Jude.

Noah held my gaze. “I won’t let that happen.”

“You can’t stop it,” I said, my throat tightening. “All you can do is watch.”

It was a few seconds before Noah finally spoke. “I have been, Mara.” His voice was aggressively blank.

My eyes filled with infuriating tears. “What do you see?” I asked him.

I knew what I saw when I looked at myself: A stranger. Terrified, terrorized, and weak. Was that what he saw too?

I drew myself up. “Tell me,” I said, my voice edged with steel. “Tell me what you see. Because I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t or what’s new or different and I can’t trust myself, but I trust you.”

Noah closed his eyes. “Mara.”