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Her mouth fell open.
She couldn’t help it.
“Whoa.”
He placed the stone down on the ground by the wall and held up his other hand. It was closed around two boxes. One ornate jewelry box, and another one that was far more nondescript. It was small, wooden, and painted black.
After placing her phone face-up on the stone floor, casting enough light that she could see, she carefully plucked both boxes from his oversized palm. And as she did, his form gathered, shifted, and from the whisps of darkness emerged a very human Gideon.
He smiled. “Sorry for the theatrics.”
“N—no. That was. That was.” She shook her head. “I can see why I’ve been afraid of you in the past. If I didn’t know—fuck. Even knowing? That was jarring.” She was stammering, and now she had backhandedly insulted him. “I mean—”
“It’s all right.” He chuckled and placed a hand on her shoulder. He seemed relieved when she didn’t yank out of his grasp. “I can be a bit—what’s the modern word?”
“Extra?”
“That’s it.” His brow furrowed as he looked down at the boxes in her hands. “Wait.” He pointed at the ornate jewelry box. “Did you steal that from me?”
“I—ah—I mean—I don’t remember stealing it from you.” She smiled, trying to look innocent. “So you can’t be mad about it.”
“Is that how this works?”
“It’s totally how it works. I can’t be mad about shit you’ve done that I don’t remember, and you can’t be mad about shit I’ve done that I can’t remember. Flawless logic.”
He scrutinized her for a long moment, debating her argument. “I suppose.” He gently took the ornate box from her. “A decoy, you said.” He opened the box and hummed. “I wondered where that pocket watch went to. It seems you paid your gravedigger very well.” He turned the box around to face her, showing its contents were fully intact. Tarnished, maybe. But present and accounted for.
That meant that the smaller box probably held its prize, too. She shook it once and could hear a quiet rattle from inside. Scooping up her flashlight, she struggled to hold both at the same time. Gideon took her phone, holding it aloft, and she muttered a thanks as she flicked the latch on the box and opened it.
And there it was.
One quarter of an amulet that would have fit in the palm of her hand. It was so much smaller than she remembered. Wait. But I don’t remember this when it was whole.
Don’t I?
The incredible detail in it was harder to see on such a small disk than it had been when she had etched into her kitchen table. It was made of a type of metal she couldn’t identify—maybe gold? But it looked somehow redder. But it wasn’t quite right for copper, either. Weird. Probably magic.
She reached out to scoop it up. She hesitated.
“I have you, Marguerite. You’re safe.”
Taking in a deep breath, she let it out and picked up the piece of the talisman.
It felt as if the world dropped away beneath her. Like the sensation of falling while asleep—only it didn’t stop.
Not until the darkness took her.
