His words stir something inside me, a dormant creature yearning to yawn and stretch and step out into the light.
“What about my house? Is there a special dorm for spirit blessed students?”
“No, as you are currently the only one.” He smiles, shaking his head as if he still can’t quite believe it. “You’ll spend one year studying with each house. That way you’ll be able to connect with all four of the elements, and the other students who work with those elements can help you on your path.”
“But what about—”
“I’m sorry, Stevie. I need to get back inside—we have a meeting that doesn’t concern you. In the meantime, follow Professor Phaines’ advice and take a few days to get to know the campus, do a little exploring. I’ll… I’ll see you in class very soon.”
“You think so, huh?” I tease. “I don’t know, Dr. Devane. You’re kind of a cranky old bastard. Maybe I won’t sign up for your class after all.”
“It’s a requirement.” He winks, and then, without another word, disappears back into Trello’s office, shutting the door behind him.
And I scoot my ass right back over there and press my ear to the gap.
“What is your initial assessment?” I hear Professor Phaines ask, his grandfatherly tone taking on a sharper edge, even as its muted through the door.
“The woman is… unsettling, to say the least.” This, from Dr. Devane.
Unsettling? Really. Says the man whose idea of a first date—yes, I’m calling it a date, sue me—is a fake murder-suicide followed by tacos?
“She reminds me so much of her mother,” Trello says, and I can’t tell from her tone whether she thinks this is a good thing or not.
“I was afraid you’d say that,” Professor Phaines says.
There’s a prolonged silence, then Trello speaks again. “Keep a close watch on her at all costs,” she orders. “I want to be kept informed in all matters, including her coursework and social activities. Now, we need to discuss the fire alarm upgrades scheduled for next month…”
Certain I’m no longer the hot topic of the day, I leave them to their meeting, heading back outside to meet this research assistant. The sun is just starting to dip toward the horizon, bathing everything in a rose-gold glow that reminds me of the sunsets behind our trailer on Pinon Canyon Lane.
How many nights did Jessa and I sit out there with a bottle of wine and a mellow playlist, talking about life and death and everything in between?
Goddess, it’s only been a week, and I already miss her like I haven’t seen her in years. Thinking about her now, about all the things I love about home, my heart breaks a little more.
Everything I love about Tres Búhos is now a memory.
The way the sun sets fire to the rock towers, making them look like candles burning in some great birthday cake.
The stately saguaros keeping watch over the Santa Clarita.
Two-for-one margaritas at Sancho’s Bar & Grill.
The way Jessa’s face lights up as she pours her heart into everything she bakes at Kettle Black.
Our quiet moments before the day’s opening, our only company the soft tick of the ovens.
The sweet, comforting scents of her cinnamon and chocolate confections mingling with the fragrance of my favorite teas—a heady mix that can only be described as home.
As gone.
The force of it hits me all at once, and I sway on my feet, then sit down on the admin building steps to keep from face-planting. I rest my head in my hands, trying to breathe, trying to relax, trying to rearrange my mind to this new place. This new life.
“Stevie, you okay?”
A familiar voice floats to my ears, a warm hand touching my shoulder.
And when I look up, the eyes looking back at me are full of concern, glittering behind black-framed glasses in a beautiful kaleidoscope of pale greens and golds I never thought I’d see again.
“Kirin?”
