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I don’t think I’ll ever get her impish expression out of my mind, but that’s okay. It’s a memory I’ll be able to treasure—once the red staining my cheeks finally fades away, that is.
“That’s okay.”
“Well, I know you said you were hungry. If you want to come back upstairs, I can make you a sandwich or something. There’s still some food in the fridge. You can just tell me what you like.”
That… actually sounds kinda nice. The granola bar from this morning is a distant memory, and my talk with her has made me realize that I am starving. I’ll probably change my mind when I go back up and see that Nine is gone, but I still appreciate her offer.
“Alri
ght.”
“Really?”
I nod.
“Great. I think we have some salami or ham, a couple of types of cheeses. Cheddar? How does cheddar sound—”
As we turn the corner to head back toward the building, a male vice floats on the breeze.
“Evening, ladies.”
Hang on. I know that voice.
Even though his head is bowed, his body covered by blankets he doesn’t need since it’s the middle of April and Newport is warming up, I’m absolutely positive that, if he looked up at me, his eyes would be vivid green.
Callie spares him a glance, mumbling a soft ‘evening’ though she doesn’t even break her stride.
Me? I stop and stare.
He wasn’t there. I know he wasn’t. When I ran out the door, this whole street was clear. I know, because I’ve spent weeks waiting to see the same street sleeper take up his spot outside of our condemned building.
And now, here he is.
On the plus side, no matter how easily he blends in with his surroundings, at least I know he’s real. He’s not a figment of my imagination if Callie can see him, too.
I have a sudden urge to walk over to him, to ask him about the paper he gave me with all of his “corrections” on it. Sometimes, that long ago morning seems like it had been a dream, though all I have to do is look at the scrap I keep hidden upstairs to know that I didn’t make him up. I haven’t seen him since that day, though, and I often wondered if that was on purpose.
I take a step toward him—
Callie is oblivious.
“Come on, Riley,” she calls out to me when she senses that I’ve turned. “Let’s go.”
I throw one last curious look over my shoulder at the mysterious homeless man. Whether it’s on purpose or not, with Callie’s back turned to him, he lifts his head and meets my curious gaze.
I see the twinkle in his grass-colored, bright green eyes as he nods over at me, almost like he’s daring me to come back to him.
I haven’t forgotten about the note he passed me, or the “corrections” he made. And if Callie wasn’t itching to return upstairs, desperate to go back to her own mate, I would have taken the time to grill this stranger with all the questions and concerns that I’ve kept bottled up inside these last few weeks.
I underestimated Gillespie. I’d be a fucking moron to let another quiet threat sneak up on me.
As far as I see it, anyone who knows anything about the Shadow Prophecy is definitely a threat.
Next time, I promise. Next time I see that man, I will make him tell me how he’s involved—and what the hell he wants from me.
I learned a long time ago, no matter what, someone always wants something.
Even me.
