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She pauses for a moment, frowning, then nods. “Could be.”
“Is my necklace black tourmaline?” I ask, lifting up the skull.
“And my ring?” I nod at the black stone between two rams’ heads on my right hand.
“That’s pietersite. The Tempest Stone.”
“Where did you get these again?”
“I can’t remember. They were for your sixteenth birthday though.”
“I know that. I remember my English teacher Mrs. Price saying they were practically demonic. She couldn’t believe it when I said you gave them to me.”
“Some people aren’t very open-minded, are they?” She reaches for my mug. “Want more coffee?”
I nod. “Yes, please.” I pause as she brings my mug over to the French press. “So, what does black tourmaline mean?”
“It means protection,” she says, her back turned to me.
“Why do I need protection?”
She gives me a soft s
mile over her shoulder. “All girls need protection, Lenore.” She turns her head back to concentrating on the coffee.
I jump right into the big question, watching her body language carefully. “Mom, who is Atlas Poe?”
She stiffens for a moment, her hand shaking, coffee spilling. “Who?” she asks, but her voice is a register higher than normal. “Shit. I spilled.”
She keeps her back to me, reaches over for a dishcloth to mop it up.
“Atlas Poe,” I repeat. “I saw him last night. He said he’s been trying to contact you for some time. Maybe he’s sent you an email.”
She clears her throat loudly and finally turns around, putting the coffee in front of me. There’s a tremor in her hand and she quickly hides it. “What did this man want, do you know?”
I shake my head. I hate that she’s lying. Well, not lying…yet. But she definitely knows him, that much I can tell. “He just wanted to talk to you. But I’m going to guess it’s important since it was midnight when I saw him. Right outside my door.”
Her eyes go wide. “Last night?”
“Yeah. I thought he was…I don’t know, a creep.” I’m not about to mention the stalker thing. “But he said he belongs to some guild and that he’s an associate of yours. Of course I told him to just call you like a normal person, but I got the impression that he’s done that already.”
She presses her lips together, nodding. “Ah. Yes, I do remember some emails from him, but I don’t remember what they said. We get so many about this and that.”
Okay, so now she’s lying. Her eyes go squinty. “Did he…did he say anything else to you? Did he do anything?”
“No. He gave me his card and left. I have it downstairs. It’s just his name and a phone number. Want me to get it?”
“That’s okay. Just…tell me if you see him again. Okay? He shouldn’t be approaching you so late at night. Especially not here.”
“Is he dangerous? Should I be worried?”
She stares at me for a moment, and from the angle of the light, her eyes look like they’re reflecting crescent moons. Then it’s gone. She smiles. “He’s just a weirdo. I’m sure it’s all fine.”
Weirdo, huh? Very comforting.
The sound of footsteps up the stairs breaks the strange vibe in the room, and then the door swings open, my father laden down with several reusable canvas bags from a range of retailers, gorgeous crimson roses peeking out the top.
“Lenore!” he cries out happily. My father is never not happy to see me. I don’t think he’s ever been mad at me, not even when I broke a priceless Egyptian artifact when I was five. Now that it’s my line of study, I know I would personally be furious.
