The Truth About Night by Amanda Arista

Author:Amanda Arista
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2020-01-21T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

I woke to the smell of baked goods. I stretched, and as the cobwebs cleared from my mind, I remembered there was another person in my house. Was Rafe baking? In my kitchen? No one made actual food in my kitchen. I wasn’t even sure I had anything to bake on. Worst of all, could he be a morning person?

I ran through the shower and dressed for the day, a whole ten-minute process I’d perfected over the years. I did stop to smear some tinted moisturizer to keep the sunburn and wind burn at a minimum and I flicked some mascara on my lashes. Presentable enough for my kitchen at this ungodly hour.

Rafe was not flipping pancakes as I had imagined, and I sighed, slightly disappointed.

A pot of coffee was brewing and there was something in the oven. He looked up from the book he was reading as he leaned against the counter. “It’s cinnamon rolls from the corner store. Don’t be too impressed.”

“You are going to spoil me, Professor MacCallan.” I poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the table, still littered in our readings and plottings.

He followed me across the room and sat in his chair from last night. “Well, point of education. Not being hungry keeps me in a fairly good mood.”

“You or the wolf?”

“Both.”

I pushed through the photos again, the map we had made of the dead bodies. I closed a couple of books and read their titles. Spellcraft and the Modern Witch. And something in Russian that looked ominous. But all Russian looked ominous.

It really was the same as writing an article. The subject was different, way different, but the process was the same. Dig in for a few days to really get the dirt, the case would crack, and the truth would always come to me. Sometimes like a sweet whisper and sometime like a punch to the gut, but I would always figure it out. But was that figuring it out me, or the magical power? Did the Charm bring the answer to me, or did I really crack the cases myself? Would I be as good a reporter if I wasn’t a Wanderer? Or was it some mix of both?

I felt the frown etch into my face as I glared down at the books before me.

“What’s the medallion around your neck?” Rafe pointed.

I took Ethan’s charm between my fingers and flipped it around, over and over, the motion soothing me. “Something Ethan gave me.”

“Can I see it?”

I pulled it toward him, but didn’t take it off. He leaned in to inspect the strange symbols. I had to look away; the heat was radiating off of him with such strength that it burned my eyes. And I guessed he hadn’t showered, since his musk was even more potent than usual.

He hmmmed as he pulled away and went back to sipping his coffee.

“Don’t suppose you know what it says?” I asked as I went back to flipping through the book. I could still feel the burn of him on my face and no amount of dusty books could take away his smell.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.