by Gynger Fyer
“Yes. Interesting coincidence that. Do you have a name?” Gentler now, almost amused. Had she said anything even faintly amusing? Sure, the way she squirmed and tried to worry the unwanted bit of silver off her arm with her sweaty hands was probably freaking hilarious from the outside.
“I’m Mia. Look, I didn’t do anything, I swear it.” Maybe if she explained. “It started moving. I know how it sounds, but that’s what happened. And I thought there was something trapped, like an animal or something, and I—” And this wasn’t going well. She could see the humor growing in his face. She wanted to punch him, good-looking or not. “I’m telling the truth!”
Balthazar took another step closer, deep into her personal space. But all those instinctive alarms she’d relied on all her life didn’t go off. He didn’t feel like a threat, for all he might look like one.
“Mia. Interesting. And I know you aren’t lying. I know that bracelet of old. It doesn’t allow itself to be stolen, though of course, the police might see things differently. They don’t have a lot of imagination, do they?” He rolled his eyes and smiled. “I wonder how far the priceless antique just jumped out on me would get at the local precinct?”
A yawning pit opened in Mia’s stomach. Reality lurched in her head again, struggling to reassert itself. A deep sleeper struggling to respond to an alarm the body didn’t want to hear.
“No, it wasn’t like that.”
“Of course it wasn’t. Did it tap on the glass to get your attention first? Clearly it had to wait for you to open the cabinet door.” He studied it. “No broken glass, and those certainly look like your fingerprints.”
Damn it, if he did call the cops, she wouldn’t have a leg to stand on. “No, please. I didn’t do anything. It just…it moved.” Admitting it hurt. It was mortifying. “It moved by itself.” Might as well tell him she’d seen a ghost or found a portal to another world. She waited for mockery, for his disbelief.
Balthazar just smiled. Of all the possible reactions, she hadn’t expected that. He smiled like Riley smiled when he’d been pulling her leg and had decided to finally let her off the hook. Familiar, gentle, and amused. A smile to be trusted, a smile that might even be enjoyed.
It transformed him, that smile, drained the edge of age and sorrow from his eyes. In spite of everything, her breath caught in her throat, and she couldn’t help but stare.
“You could just tell me, talk to me, Mia,” he continued in a soft, relaxing tone. “And maybe I can explain what it means.”
His voice altered so subtly she hardly realized she had already reached out and taken his proffered hand. Gentle, reliable, trustworthy—she had no reason to believe any of that, but she did. His touch was surprisingly gentle too, purposeful, but in no way threatening or unkind. She gazed at his face, at his green eyes, so very green, the pupils dilated in the dim light of the room, reflecting the windows behind her with their frosty pattern. She saw the movement, sensed it really, as a thrill of alarm ran prickles up her spine. Movement behind the window reflected in his eyes. Balthazar frowned, his eyes narrowing even as his eyebrows lowered. His mouth formed a curse that he never said aloud.
“Get behind me,” he said, as calmly and quietly as if he’d asked her to pass the salt. His hands closed on her arms, pushing her back even as he stepped around her. “Stay down, Mia.”
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