Adelaide Confused (31 page)

Feeling almost normal now I
looked around, observing the loft from my seat on the floor.
Nothing was different, not a thing out of place. The door was wide
open and I could hear noises from below drifting up the stairwell.
She was moving around, and from the sound of it, moving my things
around too.

It felt like an age before
she came back up. I considered pretending to be asleep as I heard
her ascend. A strange thought as five minutes before I’d been both
bored and anxious, so much so that I’d considered calling out to
let her know I was awake.

Her low heels clicked
sharply against my wooden flooring as she stepped from the
stairwell. They were black, sensible but stark, matching her
shapeless slacks. A cat suit it was not, but it was worn for the
same clandestine purpose. I could tell by the black leather gloves
that there wouldn’t be a fingerprint left behind.

She wore small rectangular
glasses. They added a little character to an otherwise passionless
face. Her hair was pulled back harshly and thrust into a stiff
ponytail. It barely swung when she spared a glance my way. “You’re
awake,” she observed.

“
What the hell are you
doing in my house?” I said with more vigor than I felt.

But she’d already turned
away, giving the impression that speaking with me was a waste of
time. It wasn’t until after she knocked over a stack of the
bodice-rippers I kept at my bedside, that she replied. “You already
know why I’m here. You heard me say so this afternoon.”

She wasn’t feeling averse
to my probing questions, so I guessed, “You saw me at Fort
Frederica.” But I didn’t really believe that was true.

Moving to the end of my
bed, she opened the trunk. Hearing her mess with my stuff and
seeing it were two different things. Just watching her blithely tip
over my books had made me angry. But now she was rooting around in
sentimental stuff, touching pictures, leafing through letters. She
scanned every diary, dropping the last with disgust. “All emotions
and fluff,” she said, turning to look at me. It was like she had
X-ray vision, seeing past the skin. “Emotional indeed,” she added
with an arch of the eyebrow, meant to convey her distaste. “No, I
didn’t see you, not in the way you mean. I sensed you though,” she
said without pausing from her inspection. “You have a particularly
strong essence. I picked it up from the parking lot.”

I remembered Reed’s
warning. He had said Lars would send someone who could sense the
book. By now I’d made that connection, I just didn’t know exactly
what it meant. Sense how? “Are you a demon detector?”

We were feeling smug. She
smiled. “You know what the journal is then.”

Shit. I would not give her
any more information.

“
You materialized so
suddenly into Mr. Wallace’s life, I knew it was no
coincidence.”

Her formal use of his name
was strange. I noticed he was one of the few people she could
address without feeling superior.

Raina bent at the waist,
slipping her fingers beneath the trunk. “Give me the book,” she
instructed sharply. “I’ll leave here and the rest of your things
will remain untouched.”

“I don’t have it.”

“
Suit yourself.” She dumped
my trunk out, the contents spilling across the floor. Using her
foot, she sifted through, spreading the materials by kicking them
apart. She didn’t search, not really. Her eyes swept over every
item briefly before she moved on to the closet. “You only have
yourself to blame for this,” she said while pulling out hangers. “I
didn’t really suspect you had the book, searching your home was
meant to be a plan of last resort. But since you overheard me
speaking to Beagban, I thought it best to check straightaway on the
off chance that you did have it. Wouldn’t want to allow you time
enough to move it, now would I?”

I didn’t say anything, but
it was a trial to watch in silence. My clothes were pulled down
methodically, the contents of the shelf above to follow. Eventually
I couldn’t stand it any longer and said, “You missed it.” I wanted
to annoy her.

Raina didn’t hesitate,
continuing her raid. “I sense auras, so I’ll know it when I see
it.”

“Inanimate objects have auras?”

“
Not their own,” she said
in a voice that bespoke my ignorance. “When you pour yourself into
an object, it becomes saturated with your aura.”

“
What do you mean
pour?
”

She began to toe open shoe
boxes. “Artists pour themselves into their work. You do the same
when you write in your diary. Demidov’s journal will be no
different.”

“
Maybe it will,” I
taunted.

She stood crisply, coming
close to loom over me. Tucking one gloved hand inside her pocket, I
was surprised to see her extract both my rings. “These,” she
extended her palm, “are a combination of cheap materials and poor
craftsmanship. You might get a dollar or two for them, but in
reality they’re destined for the trash. This one though,” she said
caressing Percy’s ring with one finger, “this one is special. It’s
fairly glowing, vibrating even, with personality.”

Without warning, she took
up the Tibetan ring and threw it at me. I flinched slightly as it
landed in my lap, frustratingly out of reach.

Raina looked at it with disapproval. “I’ve no
need for theatrical garbage, you may have it back.”

“How generous of you to gift me my own
property.”

“
Just the one,” she said,
tucking the other back into her pocket. “I think this,” she patted
her pant leg, “should remain with someone who knows its value,
someone who deserves it.”

Sure, she could take it
from me, but it could always bring itself back.

She waited for me to yell about the injustice
of it all, perhaps hoping to use the ring as barter for the book. I
said nothing.

She gave up, turning to
root around the chest of drawers. While going through drawer number
three, she asked over her shoulder, “Do you know how useful it is
to always know the value of a thing? Of a person?”

“
You can see all that from
an aura’s coloring? Who knew human worth was so transparent,” I
said acrimoniously.

She missed my meaning
altogether. Replying, “That’s an ignorant New Age myth. Auras are
not seen with the eye, they’re a flavor. The compilation of a
person’s being to be tasted by the sixth sense.”

“
And this sixth sense tells
you the value of a person?”

She finished up drawer
number six, closing it with a slam. “I can tell you have no
ambition,” she said feeling unexpressed contempt. I took it she
valued ambition. Seeing her stride over, I sunk lower just as she
opened the armoire doors above my head. “But you have hidden
insight, a seer I’d guess.” Raina swept the stack of puzzles out.
They fell, some coming open to spill pieces on the floor beside me.
“That would explain Reed’s association with you.” Meaning she
didn’t believe that I was really his girlfriend.

With her so close, I felt
the subtle change in her attitude. She’d been focused before.
Looking through my things had been her only goal, and since
answering my questions hadn’t interfered with her search, she
hadn’t thought to object. She saw me as incompetent, inferior
really, and anything I gleaned would bear no fruit. But now (though
it wasn’t outwardly apparent) she was a little distracted, a
combination of curious and expectant which I recognized. Raina was
going to try and subtly pump me for information.

“Impressive,” I said, letting her draw her
own conclusions.

“
It’s a rare gift, unlike
seers.” She looked at me haughtily. “You’re a dime a
dozen.”

“
I can assure you Reed pays
me more than that,” I said, trying to mislead her.

I hadn’t expected anger,
but that was what I got. “I’m sure he only hired you so that he’d
have more seers on his payroll than Lars. They’re very
competitive.” She slammed the armoire shut with excessive force. “A
waste of money,” she muttered while stalking around the room.
“Useless, babbling fools, every one. Can’t make a proper prediction
to save their life. Not even enough sense to recognize their gift.
Palmists working in the nail salon, pressing on acrylic tips while
chatting away with peculiar insight, astrologists becoming
astronomers—idiots, all of them.”

I’d really struck a chord.
I decided to press it. “How would you know Reed’s motives? You work
for his rival.”

Struggling for tranquility,
she picked up one of my best perfume bottles. Obviously there was
no demon diary hidden inside, but she studied it anyway. I wondered
if it was saturated in someone’s aura, or if she was just admiring
it. “I respect power,” she said, having calmed down. “That’s why I
work for Lars. But power shifts. Whoever gets Demidov’s journal
will hold the key to unlocking another realm. The potential after
that is unimaginable. If it’s Mr. Wallace, then I’ll offer him my
services. I’d offer them now if I thought he would have
me.”

I was surprised at the level of his
influence. Raina’s infatuation, her longing and adoration were
extreme. How she could feel this way after seeing his aura, knowing
his gift, was inconceivable to me.

“Adelaide!”

The sound of someone
shouting my name from the floor below was something of a shock to
both Raina and me.

I was surprised because I
recognized the voice. It was Lucas. Raina was definitely surprised
because the bitch dropped my perfume bottle. Breaking with a
shriek, it smashed to pieces.

“
Lucas!” I screamed as
Raina lurched for the stairwell in a very unladylike fashion. Her
heels didn’t click with precision as they had before. Instead I
heard a
clunk clunk clunk
as she thundered down the stairs.

I strained to hear what was
happening below, but found myself distracted by the overwhelming
smell of musky rose. Though very old, the perfume had remained
potent, and was currently seeping into my floorboards. “Lucas!” I
called again. My eyes began to water from a fragrance that felt
more like fumes.

I heard a man’s tread
pounding up the stairs. My body tensed with anticipation. He looked
better than I remembered, and way out of my league. So tall and
strong it was hard to believe I’d kissed him.

Lowering himself to the
floor in silence, he came to crouch beside me. He didn’t appear
angry, or even worried. I waited to feel something as I always did
when he was around, but nothing stirred except my own attraction.
He was very close, and I wondered why I couldn’t feel the heat from
his body like women always said they did in my novels.

With his hand on my
shoulder, Lucas leaned me forward so he could reach around and
untie me. We were wrapped around each other, and it felt something
like a hug. I took the opportunity to discreetly sniff his chest,
though all I smelled was rank perfume.

He still hadn’t said
anything, and though I knew he was a man of few words, I found this
disconcerting. Then I remembered what he must think—that I was
someone else’s girlfriend, so I rushed to explain. “That guy you
saw me with isn’t my boyfriend we only pretend to date so I have an
excuse to be at his work functions really he hired me to snoop
around which sounds crazy I know but I’m actually pretty good at
it.”

My hands came free. Lucas
moved to sit back on his heels, still unconcerned in appearance. I
stared at my wrists as I rubbed them, self-conscious now that he
was looking me in the eye. I’d been talking too fast, looking quite
unsophisticated. So I said more slowly, “I just wanted to tell you
that in case you were wondering.”

“
Actually,” his voice was
deep but deceptively quiet, “I was wondering if you just got
robbed.” He pulled a folded sheet of soggy paper from his back
pocket. “But I did get your note.”

I cringed, trying to recall
exactly what I had written.

“
I wasn’t avoiding you,” he
explained. “I’ve been out of town.”

“Oh,” I said dully.

“But you were right, I was brooding.”

“
Oh?” I repeated, but with
a bit more perk.

I wanted him to expound on
the brooding comment, but much to my disappointment, he glanced
around and asked, “Do you want help cleaning up?”

I didn’t really feel comfortable with him
seeing everything I owned, especially not before I convinced him I
was good girlfriend material. But I was afraid a refusal would
result in his departure, so I said yes.

He pulled my trunk upright.
“What happened?”

I began to fill it
haphazardly. “I guess I did get robbed.”

Looking around the loft,
Lucas said, “The place looks ransacked, not robbed. Is anything
actually missing?”

I began the tedious task of
rehanging my clothes. “Nothing I can’t get back, but then, she
didn’t really get what she came for.”

“
The woman I saw running
out the front door did this?” He sounded skeptical.

I turned to find him
looking rather intrigued, but not by the idea of a female
starched-suit-wearing burglar. He was intrigued by the pile of
romance novels he’d been stacking, one book in
particular.