The Third Kiss

by Kat Colmer

  He gave me a smile in the way of an apology, which didn’t make me feel any better. “However, now that we know you can beat them off, I’m a little more confident about today’s attempt at retrieving the Book of Threads.”

  The professor’s “a little more confident” remark didn’t fill me with a whole lot of confidence. But like he’d said, it wasn’t like we had any other choice. Either we went in or they came for us.

  For me.

  How did my life become so screwed up again? That was right—it started with a kiss. I glanced over at Jonas one more time. Would things ever be the same between us? I didn’t think so, not after this.

  If we survived it, that was. Get off the morbid thought train, Cora.

  “Jonas says you have something that will help us today?” Leo’s voice came from the bay window across the room.

  The question set the professor into motion. “Yes, I do.” He jolted away from his desk and rushed over to a mahogany cabinet fashioned in the same warm wood as the bookshelves that lined the study’s walls. With a creak, he opened the cabinet doors and retrieved a meter-long object wrapped in dark cloth. He circled to the back of his desk, laid the cloth-wrapped package on it, and peeled the material away to reveal two gleaming bronze sickle swords, much like the one we’d seen earlier in Richard’s notebooks.

  Jonas, Beth, and I leaned forward to have a closer look. Leo came to stand beside the desk to do the same.

  My pulse raced. “Please tell me one of these is the Sword of Absolom.” If we had the Sword of Absolom, we had a proven way of killing Elymas.

  A shake of the professor’s head doused my excitement. “I’m afraid not. However, these two khopeshes are fashioned from the same bronze as the Sword of Absolom. They belonged to two of Absolom’s men. They cannot kill Elymas, but any wound inflicted by them will not heal at the supernatural rate the Groth Maar are used to. Rather, the injury stays longer and is more painful.”

  Okay, that’s better than nothing.

  Jonas got up off the couch and lifted one of the swords off the desk.

  “These aren’t light.” He handled the khopesh with one hand. “Here, you try.” He held it out to me.

  I took the sickle sword from him by its knife-like hilt and found I needed two hands to hold it up comfortably. The smooth handle sat cold and awkward in my grasp. Like the sword in the notebook, this weapon was immaculate. The polished blade reflected beams of sunlight sneaking in through the bay window.

  Leo had picked up the other khopesh and was eyeing it with interest. “Are these really three thousand years old?” He turned the crescent blade in his hand, then suddenly slashed it through the air. We all jumped back, not trusting Leo’s ability to keep upright, but he handled the sword with an ease that belied his usual klutziness.

  “Careful there.” The professor pushed down Leo’s sword-wielding arm. “And yes, they’re indeed three thousand years old.”

  “Oh, come on,” Beth said from her perch on the couch. “It’s not like you’ve never seen one before.”

  Leo’s head snapped up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that you probably wield one of those on a daily basis when you play World of Warcraft with your geeky online friends.”

  Something flickered in Leo’s eyes. This time Beth had gone too far.

  “You think you know me, don’t you?” Leo’s voice was even, controlled, but the death grip on the khopesh betrayed his tension.

  Beth had the good sense to keep her mouth shut. All she did was shrug, sensing she’d crossed a line. It wasn’t like Leo to take her bait, but then we were all under an unusual amount of pressure; we were about to infiltrate a demon hideout, for crying out loud. I was close to telling the two of them to just get a room already.

  “Hey, play nice.” I gave Beth a stern look. She had the nerve to shrug at me this time. That’s it. Once this whole thing was over she was getting a serious grilling about Leo. But first we had some Groth Maar to put out of commission.

  I grasped my khopesh securely in both hands and sliced it through the air in front of me. “Any pointers on how we use these, Professor?”

  The professor nudged his glasses a little farther up the bridge of his nose and rounded the table.

  “Any which way you can,” he said as he took the sickle sword from me. “But because of its weight, you’ll most likely use it with a slashing action, like you’ve just done.” He lifted the weapon and sent it cutting through the air.

  Leo did the same, an intense look of concentration on his face. I’d never seen him look so focused. I almost laughed. What was it with guys and swords?

  “How did you get your hands on these anyway?” Jonas asked. He’d stepped back a few paces, his eyes remaining on Leo’s blade slashing number eights through the air.

  The professor deposited his khopesh back on the writing desk. “The swords were left with the notebooks.” He traced his fingers along the glinting edge of the curved blade.

  Wait…what? “You mean we could have used them last night?” Disbelief gathered in the pit of my stomach. “Why didn’t you tell us about the swords earlier?”

  A flush tinged the professor’s face. “In all honesty, I’d forgotten all about them. You must understand, we all thought there was nothing to Richard’s ramblings. When I cleared out the remains of his office all those years ago, I barely gave the swords a second glance. I didn’t realize their significance until I read about them in one of the notebooks last night. Truth be told, I’m still having trouble believing that I believe all of this.”

  I harrumphed. “Is that it? Or do you have any more three-thousand-year-old surprises for us?” I sounded petulant, but darn it, the professor saying he’d gone to the other side and now fully believed the curse unsettled me. A lot.

  Jonas gave me that look reserved for difficult children. “I think Cora is just anxious to get this done with, Professor.”

  The professor nodded. “I understand.”

  And I think he did understand—that we both had to put aside our reasoned and empirical mindsets in order to stay sane throughout all this insanity.

  “Now, how do you plan to go about this Groth Maar infiltration of yours?” he asked.

  Jonas took it on himself to answer. “Well, we’re kind of relying on Leo’s memory of the place from last night.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Hopefully we’ll be able to slip in undetected and find the Book of Threads before anyone knows we’re there.” Jonas cringed. Hearing himself outline “the plan” must have made him realize how pathetic the whole approach sounded. There were too many unknown variables. Too many unknown variables made me nervous. And I seriously doubted we were going to leave that place undetected, with or without the Book of Threads. Based on available evidence, those two sickle swords had about as much chance of staying clean of blood as Beth had of convincing Leo to paint his toenails. I just hoped it was Groth Maar blood that stained them and not ours.

  The professor didn’t look overly impressed, either. “That’s your plan?”

  My words exactly.

  Jonas rubbed the back of his neck some more. “Yeah. But now, with the swords and all, the odds of getting out are much better.” He forced optimism to spread across his face.

  “Hmm,” was the professor’s response.

  The clang of bronze on bronze drew all our attention to the writing desk where Leo had dropped the khopesh he’d been handling to join its brother on the cloth. “Actually, I think I might know a good entry point into the mansion.” He wrapped the swords up in the dark material. “So what are we waiting for?”

  “A miracle,” I muttered under my breath as we filed out of the professor’s study.

  Then I remembered: I didn’t believe in miracles.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Jonas

  Whenever I imagined Co
ra and me in the backseat of a car—which was way too often lately—the fantasy didn’t include two razor-sharp objects wedged between us. My gaze flitted between the cloth-wrapped khopeshes in the center of the car seat and Cora’s profile as she stared at the spindly, gray-green foliage whizzing past the window of Leo’s Corolla.

  This was it. We were actually going to do this—find the Book of Threads and end this bastard of a curse. The prospect made me want to wind down the window and hurl my half-digested breakfast all over the fire trail. What was it we’d heard over and over in our TKD classes? All fighters are scared. And those who aren’t are foolish.

  I glanced over at Cora. Her expression didn’t give much away, but she’d attended the same martial arts classes so I figured the same words echoed in her mind.

  The nausea rolling in my gut had less to do with fear for my own safety and everything to do with fear for hers. The closer we edged toward the Groth Maar mansion, the more I wished she wasn’t part of today.

  “What?” She caught me looking at her and frowned. “You look like someone just asked you to eat raw tripe.”

  I’d eat a truckload of raw tripe if it meant she’d turn around and go home. “When we get in there, stick close to me, okay?” I had a better chance of protecting her if she was near.

  Her mouth compressed into a ruler-thin line. “I can look after myself, Jonas.”

  Could the girl be any more stubborn? I took a deep breath and dug my fingers into my thighs so I wouldn’t give in to the impulse to shake her. “Humor me. Just this once.”

  Something in the tone of my voice made the lines on her forehead deepen. Her mouth softened a fraction, and a question surfaced in her hazel gaze.

  “Cora, if something happened to you in there, I…” I had to look away, afraid the rest of that sentence was spelled out across my face in big, bold letters. If something happened to her I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. Then it dawned, without warning, the way blurred words in the distance sharpen the second you get close enough: forget not being able to live with myself; I wouldn’t be able to live without her.

  Just like Dad couldn’t live without Mom, a tiny voice at the back of my head taunted. I gripped the seat in front of me, sure the car was about to spin out of control, sure I was seconds away from ending up wrapped around a tree.

  But the Corolla rolled along the fire trail without incident.

  I released my death grip on the seat and swallowed past the tightness constricting my throat. Just admit it already. This is way more than friendship. There was a word for it, but I was too chickenshit to spell it out.

  Bringing the panic clawing at my throat under control, I looked back across the seat at Cora. “This whole Groth Maar mess is my fault. I won’t forgive myself if something happens to you.” That much was true, minus the declaration of anything deeper.

  Cora reached across the swords and gripped my arm. “Jonas, look at me. I know I’ve blamed you for getting us into this mess and I appreciate your worry, but you have to trust me. We have a shot at this, but it has to be together. We’re stronger together. Can’t you see that?”

  Stronger together. She was right; I needed her to do this. Without her, my chances of finding the Book of Threads, tearing my page out, and making it out of the mansion in one piece were slim at best. But my heart screamed at putting her in such danger.

  My heart. God, since when do you listen to your bloody heart?

  I caught movement out of the corner of my eye; Beth had turned in the passenger seat. “Nice to know you’re equally concerned for your sister’s welfare. Or is that different?” She eyed me with that freaky I’m-your-twin sixth sense look.

  Ah shit. Did she know? Was I that transparent when it came to Cora? I hated being a twin.

  “Yeah, that’s different because you’re not going in,” I said, hoping to shift the dangerous direction of her thoughts.

  Her expression hardened. “The hell I’m not!” She swiveled farther in her seat and pinned me with an icy stare. “What the hell did you think I’d be doing while you guys were in there busting Groth Maar butt? Filing my nails?”

  “You got that half right. Sitting in the car, yes. You’re in charge of making sure the car’s where it needs to be when we’re ready to hightail it out of there. Filing your nails is optional.” That part of the plan I’d figured out. It was bad enough Cora had to go in. Beth was staying well away from the Groth Maar mansion.

  By the stubborn glint in my sister’s eyes, I suspected she didn’t agree with me.

  “No,” she flat out said.

  “Beth, come on. Be reasonable.”

  “I’m going in, Jonas.” The determination in her voice was immovable.

  In desperation, I tapped Leo on the shoulder. “Help me out here. Talk some sense into her, will you?”

  Leo met my gaze in the rearview mirror and pulled a face. “Like she’ll listen to me.”

  Good point. Why was I even asking him? I looked to Cora. “You’re her best friend. Make her listen.”

  Cora frowned. “I don’t think leaving Beth alone in the car is a good idea. We have the swords.” She glanced at the wrapped khopeshes lying on the seat between us. “Beth and Leo can use those.”

  Three against one. This wasn’t going well. Defeated, I let my head drop back onto the backseat’s headrest and closed my eyes. I’d never planned on leaving Beth alone in the car. I’d planned to leave Leo with her. But he’d intended to come with us all along. His lack of argument after Cora’s statement told me as much.

  “No offense, but Beavis and Butthead here are more liability than asset in this situation,” I said without opening my eyes. I waited for their protests. All I heard was the crunch of car tires along the fire trail.

  It was Cora who came to their defense. “Leo looked like he knew how to handle the khopesh back in the professor’s study. And Beth isn’t as helpless as you two make her out to be.”

  “Thank you,” Beth said. Even with my eyes closed I felt the heated vindication in her glare.

  Ignoring my sister, I cracked my lids open and turned to look at Cora. Was she serious?

  “Leo can keep an eye on her,” she said in answer to my unspoken question.

  She was serious. Fantastic. Just…fan-fricking-tastic. How the hell was I meant to stay calm now that I had my sister and Leo to worry about as well? I groaned and closed my eyes again, wishing this was all over. Not two minutes later the car slowed.

  “Home sweet home,” Leo said as he pulled the Corolla over onto the side of the fire trail. Through the dense eucalypts to our right we could just glimpse snatches of pale yellow sandstone.

  I glanced at Cora’s grave expression. Stronger together. I hoped like hell that she was right.

  With the cloth-wrapped khopeshes tucked under one arm, I stepped out of Leo’s car and into the steaming stew of late summer heat. Behind us, the fire trail disappeared in the distance in a shimmering haze. Insects buzzed all around like loud static on a badly tuned radio. It had to be at least thirty-five degrees Celsius in the shade. Dead still—the proverbial calm before the storm.

  Leo came to stand beside me. “We stick behind the tree line until we circle to the back of the place. I saw some open, low-set windows last night that we can use to get inside.”

  The four of us stood there, surrounded by the muggy stillness, and stared intently through the eucalypts at our sandstone destination. Cora took a deep breath, our cue to start moving.

  It took a good ten minutes weaving through dry shrub until we arrived at the edge of the tree line behind the mansion. The only thing separating the opulent two-story estate and us was an immaculate strip of lawn edged with carefully manicured shrubs and bushes. It made the already out of place mansion look alien in its untamed bush surroundings.

  “Guess there’s money in the demon business,” Beth said beside me, ey
es roving the sprawling sandstone walls.

  Leo grabbed my arm. “There.” He pointed at one of the lower level windows. “That one’s open. Looks like it might drop into a cellar.”

  A cellar would be good. Less chance of being detected straight away. I nodded and, one after the other, we stole off across the pristine lawn.

  Leo was right; the open window did drop into a cellar. A wine cellar. Inside, the air was a cool contrast to the swelter outside. State of the art wine racks lined the stone walls. Not that I knew what state of the art wine racks looked like, but these were a far cry from the bricks and planks of wood Dad had used for the construction he’d called his wine cellar.

  I brushed a thick layer of dust away from a couple of the labels. Penfolds Grange. Not cheap. Aunt Helena had a bottle, given to her by one of her high-flyer clients. It was locked away for an extra special occasion.

  “Elymas has expensive taste,” I said.

  Cora pulled the khopeshes from under my arm. “We’re not here to discuss Groth Maar wine preferences.” Laying the sickle swords on the floor, she quickly unwrapped them and handed one to Leo and the other to Beth, then shoved the brown material under the nearest wine rack. I silently swore when Beth buckled under the sword’s weight. If she could barely hold the weapon, how the hell was she going to swing it in self-defense? I pushed the thought aside and tried to ignore the growing knot of worry forming in my gut.

  “Okay.” Hands on hips, Cora eyed the two unlikely sword bearers. “You guys ready?’

  When Leo and Beth nodded, Cora turned to me, the same question in her eyes. She was all cool determination, but I caught the tinge of apprehension hiding in the hazel. I swallowed and fought the impulse to pull her into my arms. Instead, I nodded and turned for the stone steps leading out of the cellar.

  The narrow stairs spat us out into a marble foyer. Beth let out a quiet whistle. “Whoa! You could fit all our bedrooms in here. Maybe even the kitchen, too.”