Lone Werewolf Duology (bxb)

24. The Story with a Curse

"You look nice." Anabelle smiled and quickly moved her gaze to the timer ticking down.

"Liam took me shopping," he mumbled, panicking. At first, Volya thought Anabelle's smile was a cheerful one, but then he noticed something else in her expression. His shoulder blades tightened again. Not that he was 100% sure, but maybe she was flirting with him.

"It's a good color on you," she said, "sets off your eyes."

Volya glanced down involuntarily, despite knowing that his V-necked sweater was sandy with a dull lustre that Liam assured him was manly. And the color. Liam basically forbade anything black and grey, telling him to choose. Basically, it was just like that day by the piano, only even more embarrassing because it was in the mall....

"Thanks," he said, because he couldn't come up with anything else.

Hopefully, she automatically flirted with everyone, because she was used to chatting on-line, where everyone flirts with everyone else. It was like a social currency there. She couldn't be flirting with him, because she wanted to flirt with him, Volya Wolkov, specifically. So much for saying he had a talent for making her life easier. If she was flirting with him, this was one more reason for breaking the curse ASAP... as if there weren't enough reasons to hurry up already.

Volya coughed into his fist to cover up the uncomfortable lull in the conversation.

Anabelle frowned at the timer, as if it failed to supply a creative witticism to patch up their flagging conversation.

"Anabelle, what did you see when you climbed inside the Mnemosyne?" This wasn't exactly witty, but that's what he came here for.

Another question on the tip of his tongue was, and how did you get in, even though didn't have to know that. He just had trouble imagining a twelve-year-old girl starting up the equipment without June or Sangha. The security was tighter now, with the retinal scan and all that, but even back then the door must have been locked, the control station—password protected etc... but, yeah, he was curious about that. Only curious. That other thing he needed to know.

Anabelle took out a couple of mugs painted with yellow daisies and set them on the matching tray. Probably, she had teaspoons shaped like tulips. Her lips curled in a mischievous smile. "Don't you want to know how I got in?"

Naturally, she wanted to tell him. He mentally waved goodbye to a quick chat. He shifted his butt deeper into the cushions and leaned back. An exhale left his chest, longer than Damir's drags on his Marlboro. "Sure. How the heck did a twelve-year-old break into a secure lab?"

The timer buzzed, so Anabelle poured tea, the teapot's snout jingling against the mugs. "I'd stolen mom's access card when she and daSilva travelled to a conference."

Her eyes darted from her work to Volya to check if he was sufficiently impressed, but she must have missed what she was looking for, because she chewed her lip. "It's the only thing I've ever swiped, I swear!"

"Uh-huh," Volya said.

"It was their own fault!" Anabelle's large eyes pleaded for concessions. "They went on and on at the dinner table about mom's dreams and visions. How they fit this historical record or that. They made the Mnemosyne sound like a portal into a magical world."

"I get it," Volya admitted. He had a feeling that Lydia could make a trip to McDonalds sound like an adventure, let alone the Mnemosyne.

Anabelle flipped her ponytail and scrunched her nose again. "So, yes, I hung out in the lab, pretending I missed mom... which was true by the way. I did miss her very much, since she was always conferring with daSilva. And Liam was recording or touring day and night. Dad was gone by then."