And on the man she’d just watched humiliate Tam. The beautiful, awful man, now dripping with enchanted pumpkin spice from collar to belt, staring at her with an expression of absolute murder.
“I…” Marina’s voice came out as a squeak. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you.”
“You didn’t see.” His voice could have frozen the harbor solid. “You didn’t see the person standing directly in your path.”
“You backed into me!”
“I was conducting business.”
“On your phone! Not looking where you were going!”
His eyes narrowed. Up close, she could see they weren’t just dark; they had flecks of gold in them, like embers buried in ash. Heat radiated off him, actual physical heat, and Marina’s locket burned so hot she nearly gasped.
“Do you have any idea,” he said, each word precise as a scalpel, “what you’ve just destroyed?”
Marina looked at the table.
The coffee hadn’t just splashed the antique wood. It had soaked directly into an old document: ancient parchmentcovered in symbols she didn’t recognize, spread out like someone had been studying it. The paper was absorbing the liquid, drinking it in, and as she watched, it began to glow.
Gold light pulsed through the symbols. The parchment crackled with energy.
“What…” Marina reached for it instinctively.
“Don’t touch?—”
Too late.
Her fingers brushed his arm at the same moment her other hand touched the paper.
The world went white.
Something snapped inside her chest, an actual physical jolt, and then she could feel things that weren’t hers. Fury. Shock. An exhaustion that had nothing to do with her body.
What…
The light faded.
Marina stumbled backward, gasping. The man, the beautiful, awful man, was staring at her with an expression that had gone from murder to something much worse. His hand was pressed to his chest, right over his heart.
“What did you do?” His voice shook. She’d never heard anyone sound so controlled and so terrified at the same time.
“I didn’t… I don’t…”
She tried to step back further. Get away from him, from this, from whatever nightmare she’d just walked into.
Pain lanced through her skull.
She gasped, stumbling, and he gasped too. The same pain, at the same moment, like a mirror reflecting agony. When she looked at him, she saw her own confusion written on his face.
“What is happening?” She couldn’t keep the panic from her voice.
He grabbed her wrist. The contact sent a jolt through her: emotions that weren’t hers flooding in. Anger. Fear. Desperate, clawing determination.
“Stop.” His voice was a command. “Stop moving. Something’s wrong.”
“I noticed!”
Around them, the room had gone quiet. Marina was dimly aware of faces turning toward them, conversations dying mid-sentence. Everyone was staring.
