I look up, try to think of a quick answer.
But there isn’t one.
“Kirin is… he’s going through some personal challenges right now.”
“What challenges?”
“That’s not something I’m going to share, Stevie. But I will tell you that it’s not your fault, and Kirin is okay. He’ll be back at work with you soon.”
“No,” she says, adamant.
“No?”
“No, I don’t buy it.” She sets down her bag, crosses her arms over her chest.
Shit. We’re in it for the long haul, then. Prepare for battle.
I rise from the desk, cross to the other side to meet her.
“Stevie, I’m not going to delve into Kirin’s personal business with you. I’m sure you can appreciate the need for privacy and personal boundaries, though I know you struggle with the latter.”
“Istruggle with the latter?” She steps closer, her eyes blazing, heat and anger emanating off her body in waves so strong, they nearly knock me down.
Jabbing a finger into my chest, she says, “You know what drives me crazy? I’ll tell you. You guys are always asking me to trust you, to give it a chance, to respect the rules, to respect privacy. And I think I’ve done a pretty damn good job of that, considering I signed onto this project with zero upfront information and have rolled with the punches—punches that keep on coming, mind you—and you guys, who insist that you’re here to help me, basically stonewall me every chance you get.”
“Stevie, there are things… delicate things… that require—”
“Don’t give me that bullshit, Doc, unless you wantyourdelicate things to end up in a jar.”
Instinctively, I cover my crotch—an excellent example of the stimulus-thought-response mechanism at work.
“Kirin needs his privacy right now. I will respect that, and so will you. End of discussion.”
Stevie’s anger spikes so high, her hair practically curls.
“So then it’s okay to keep me in the dark? To stay in control, leaving me hanging out here in the breeze by myself? What about my privacy?”
“If the situations were reversed, I would afford you the same courtesy.”
And then I realize my mistake.
Stevie smirks, hands on her hips, her eyes laser-focused on mine. “Really? So… what’s my true form? You all seem to know it, yet none of you thought to clue me in.”
I’m falling off a cliff, scrambling to hold onto something, but she’s got me right where she wants me. I knew this would come up again after that day in her bedroom, after the delirious snake-bite conversations, but now is not the time.
There’s absolutely nothing I can say in response. All I can do is close the classroom door, hope like hell no one else is listening in.
“One more chance,” she says, lowering her voice and leaning in close—so close her honeysuckle sweetness tickles my nose. My heart lodges up to my throat—I have no idea what she’s going to say next, only that it’s going to hit hard.
I steel my poker face.
“Who are the Keepers of the Grave?” she whispers.
I gasp. So much for the poker face.
“No, nothing?” she presses. “Cat got your tongue? What about the Book of Shadow and Mists? Hmm, drawing another blank?”
“Stevie, how do you… This isn’t…” I grab her shoulders, desperate. “I don’t know how you see the things you see, and yes, there are a great many of them I’ve kept from you. Not out of secrecy or betrayal or a desire to keep you beholden. But because it’s dangerous for you to know. There is so much you have yet to learn, so much we haven’t even delved into yet with your mother’s prophecies, and now we have a possible dark uprising…”
