The Missing Link (Book 1: Outcast) [CURRENTLY EDITING]

CHAPTER THIRTY: IF CRYSTALS COULD TALK

Thirty minutes came and went. They stretched into forty, then sixty.

I struggled to keep my mind steady. For the past hour, it had wandered off countless times into paranoid, Shakespearean theories where everyone ended up dead, and despite Jared's efforts to distract me with stress-relief jokes, a hair-rising sensation began to settle in the back of my nape. None of his intents so far helped me get out of the self-wallowing hole I'd fallen into, but that didn't keep him from trying one more time.

What kind of car does a Jedi drive? A Toy-Yoda

Strangely enough, laughter cracked out of my throat like a newly sprung leak—timid at first, but then the piled up hysteria inside of me pushed it out at once.

Please tell me you Googled that instead of coming up with it. I texted back.

The cold onshore breeze blew right through my sweater as I leaned against the square fluted column. There were no colors left in the sky—only a stretching black canvas broken here and there by small, glinting specs. They merged with the sporadic streetlights from the city and the never-dimming skyscrapers, a few of which still visible through the hovering grey clouds above them.

The waves from the lake lapped in the distance like the ticking of an impatient clock, joined in a symphony of nature as the leaves rustled on the graveled path. For a moment, lost in the scenery, my mind worried there might've been someone out there that instant, hidden in the shadows. With no light other than the one casted by the moon over the half-empty boughs, it would have been impossible to spot anyone.

Perhaps they were taking cover, waiting for the perfect moment to—

"You should head inside," said a voice behind me. "I can't keep an eye on you through the window all night, and I need to put the wards up."

I glanced back to find Gideon's lavish silhouette coming up from the receiving area out to the darkened gallery. He flashed an uncomfortable smile at me, and I deviated my gaze back to the Danvers' front yard. Whatever paranoid thoughts had come were gone now; the place looked as deserted as ever.

"Are you sure this is not an excuse to get away from Will?"

"Perhaps."  He stood silent and thoughtful for a moment. "I'm not particularly a fan of Flame-Throwing people."

The gallery's wood creaked under my boots as I moved past him into the lake house. "You're not a fan of anyone, Gideon."

The green-eyed man gave a wry laugh as he reached for the doorknob. "You're not as dumb as you seem, Keeper," he said, letting the door close behind me with a soft click.

My phone buzzed then, and I couldn't keep my lips from twitching upwards. How dare you think Google is funnier than me??

Halfway through typing a reply, Wilson's voice carried out from inside the kitchen. There was an uncomfortable, irritated edge to it, one I knew a tad too well. "Can we please talk about something else, Mom? I already told you I haven't talked to him since Thursday night."