the hell did that asshole Lucien Smok think he was, anyway? God’s gift to women, obviously. Showing up at Phoebe’s wedding trolling for Lilith blood was bad enough, but making up a job offer to get into her pants was pathetic.
Her phone rang underneath Puddleglum, and she ended up accidentally answering as she wrested it from under him before she saw who was calling.
Lucien’s voice carried from the speaker as she stared at it. “I didn’t think you’d answer.”
“I didn’t. It was my sister’s cat.”
“Her...cat?”
“His butt. Some people butt dial. He butt answers. Goodbye.” Her finger was poised over the button.
“Wait. Please hear me out.”
For some reason, she did.
“I’m calling to apologize. I screwed up.”
“Ya think?”
“I really did ask you to dinner to talk about the job. There was no ulterior motive. I’m sorry I handled the topic of your gift badly. I didn’t realize it was a touchy subject and maybe not for public consumption. And I’m sorry I snapped at you. I’m not sure why I overreacted. But what I said was inexcusable.”
Well, damn. That was an unexpectedly sincere apology. But maybe this was part of his game. She wasn’t going to be stupid enough to fall for it twice.
“Okay, well, thanks for calling. Have a nice evening.”
“Theia?”
Something about the way he said her name, almost a plea, made her hesitate.
“Are you still there?”
Theia’s thumb hovered over the button. “Sort of.”
He laughed softly. “Sort of? Listen, the job offer was genuine. I realize I made assumptions, but I think you’d be an asset to the enterprise, gift or no gift. Is there any way we can start over and discuss it?”
She did need to learn more about the Smoks, and the whole trigger-suppression concept was intriguing.
Theia sighed. “I’m not a psychic, I don’t read people’s fortunes and I don’t perform on command.”
“Of course. That’s perfectly understandable. Can I ask...” There was a rustling sound as he changed position. “Can you tell me how it does work? If it’s none of my business, that’s perfectly cool.”
Theia hesitated, and Puddleglum jumped down to wander to the kitchen, offended at no longer being the center of attention. “I’ve been known to have dreams. Visions. But honestly? I don’t even know if they’re anything.”
“I think you underestimate yourself.”
“How would you know?”
“Just a feeling.”
Theia smiled despite herself. “That’s usually my line.”
“Why don’t we put the feelings and intuitions aside then? I’ll be at the lab tomorrow around two o’clock. Just come by and take a look around, see what we do. If it doesn’t interest you, no harm done. You can walk away. And if you do get any impressions of a possible prophetic nature, I’d be happy to hear those, too. But no pressure.”
“No pressure.”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“Let’s not go that far.”
Lucien gave her that soft laugh again. “I get the feeling you doubt my sincerity. Suppose I can’t blame you. So will I see you tomorrow?”
The word tomorrow seemed to float before her in brilliant blue letters. Synesthesia wasn’t unusual for her, but it was often a precursor to a waking vision. Either way, it seemed to indicate that tomorrow was significant. A sign she should heed. Interpretation, of course, was always the tough part. Was her gift telling her she should go tomorrow? Or stay away?
“Theia? You still there?”
“Yeah, sorry. Tomorrow it is.”
The same brilliant blue haunted her sleep. Not letters or words this time, but blue in the form of a small dragon. Like the cockatrice she’d dreamed of before, it had webbed, bat-like wings, the joints ending in sharp claws, and stood on two legs, the head and barbed tail the classic shape of a dragon from fantasy—the sort Rhea had collected as figurines when they were kids. But there was something wrong with this dragon. It dragged itself along the desert floor the way a wounded bat might, using its winged forelimbs to “walk.” And above it, the shadow of the carrion-eating cockatrice circled as before. And it was growing closer.
* * *
She forgot about the dream images by the time she’d finished grading papers from her Friday morning class and headed over to the lab.
Smok was using the university biotech labs while a larger, permanent facility was being built off campus. Theia already had an access card for her own research, though she’d never been in the biotech section.
Lucien greeted her in the atrium, looking almost surprised that she’d actually shown up. “Theia. Welcome.” He squeezed her hand like they were old friends. “It’s nice to see you in something more comfortable.”
She’d worn ruby plaid skinny jeans and a black fitted T-shirt—not exactly something she’d just thrown on, but she wasn’t trying to look good for him. The words of Violet Bick from It’s a Wonderful Life popped into her head: “This old thing? Why, I only wear it when I don’t care how I look.” Theia, of course, couldn’t pull off the sassy hair flip.
She just wanted to feel confident, and looking exceptionally cute made her feel confident. So did the approving look he gave her as his eyes lingered over her curves for just the briefest moment. Not so long that it was obtrusive and objectifying, but long enough that she knew she’d chosen well. And as much as she hated to admit it, that little feeling of breathlessness was back.
She’d tried to ignore it at dinner the night before, tried not to think about how his arms had felt around her, like he was protecting her from the world—or like there was no one else in it but her. But every time she’d looked up from her food into those depthless ice-blue eyes, her lungs had tightened like when she was a kid and had felt an asthma attack coming on. She’d had to chew very carefully to make sure not to end up in a repeat performance of the moment they met.
Today, of course, she’d gone with comfortable black cotton Mary Janes instead of the velvet heels, which made Lucien seem exceptionally tall, though he was probably just under six feet. She’d been wearing heels both times they’d met before, but now she was at her full height of a whopping five foot two.
Beside Lucien, an older woman in a lab coat held out a clipboard. “Before you go in, we’ll need you to sign a standard confidentiality agreement.”
Lucien gave her an apologetic smile and a little shrug.
Once Theia had signed it and returned the clipboard, Lucien led
