The Evolution of Mara Dyer (17 page)

“Yeah,” I said. “I mean, no. Noah—are you staying tonight?”

“Actually, I’ve arranged for us to meet with your new guardian. Why?”

“I was going to suggest you sleep in my room, this time.”

Noah gave me a sly look. “Not that I’m necessarily opposed, but why?”

The words
Jude was in my room
congealed on my tongue.
When I finally spoke them, my voice sounded different. Terrified. I hated it.

I hated that I was afraid of him. And I hated the way Noah tensed when he saw it.

So I swallowed hard. Then lightened my voice. “He left me a little present in my underwear drawer,” I said casually, working hard to fake it.

Noah’s eyes never left mine, but his frame relaxed just slightly. “Dare I ask?”

“The doll,” I explained. “He must have seen me throw it out.”

“Mara—”

I shook my head. “He was probably watching creepily from some bushes or something.”

“Mara,” Noah said louder.

“The neighbor’s hedge is really tall,” I went on. “What is
wrong
with him?”

“Mara.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t Jude,” Noah said quietly.

“What wasn’t Jude?”

“The doll in your bedroom. He didn’t put it there.”

I blinked, not getting it. “Then who did?”

It felt like forever before Noah finally spoke.

“You.”

27

W
HAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?”
M
Y VOICE
was quiet. Shaky. “I threw it away.”

Noah nodded. “And then later you woke up and got out of bed. You didn’t say anything, so I assumed you left to get a drink or something, but given recent events, when you didn’t come back, I followed you. You left through the back door.”

Invisible fingers tightened around my throat. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I thought you
were
awake,” Noah said, his voice measured and even. “I asked what you were doing and you said you made a mistake—that you threw away something you wanted to
keep. You seemed completely with it; you walked outside and I watched you take the doll from the waste bin and bring it back inside. You went to your room and then nearly came back to bed when I suggested you wash your hands first. You laughed, you did, and then you came back to bed and promptly fell asleep. You don’t remember any of this?”

I shook my head because I wasn’t sure I could speak. Nothing like this had ever happened before; I had nightmares, sure, and I blacked out before, yes. But this was new.

Different.

Like my reflection in the mirror.

I swallowed hard. “Do I look different to you?”

Noah’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“This morning, after—after I found the doll in my drawer,” I said.
After I put it there
, I didn’t say. “I looked in the mirror and I feel like—like I look different.” I glanced up at Noah, wondering if he saw it, but he only shook his head. “Look again.”

Noah took my face in his hands then and drew me close. So close I could see flecks of navy and green and gold in his eyes as he studied mine. His stare was incisive. Piercing.

“Right?” I asked under my breath.

Noah said nothing.

Because I was right. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

His eyes narrowed until all I could see were slits of blue. “You don’t look
different
,” Noah said. “Just . . .”

“Just
different
.” I pulled away. I was frustrated. Anxious. I glanced in the direction of my bedroom, in the direction of the doll. “Something’s happening to me, Noah.”

He was distressingly silent.

Noah knew I looked different. He just refused to say it. I didn’t know why and at that moment, I didn’t even care. There was one thing on my mind and one thing only. I stood up. “Where are your keys?”

“Why?” he asked, drawing out the word.

“Because I want to burn that doll.”

My parents would be disconcerted if they saw me light a fire in our backyard and burn a doll I’ve had since I was a baby, so we needed somewhere else to do it.

“You have a fireplace, right?” I asked him as I headed toward the front door.

“Several, but we can’t leave.”

I closed my eyes. “Joseph.” Damn.

“And you. If we’re not here when your parents get back—I’m sure I needn’t remind you of your recent psych ward stint.”

As if I could forget.

Noah ran a hand over his jaw. “They trust me
here
, with Joseph, for an hour, maybe. But I can’t take you out alone.”

“So I’m trapped here indefinitely.”

“Unless . . .”

“Unless what?”

“Unless we bring them along.”

I stared at Noah, waiting for the punch line.

That was it, apparently. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not? An invitation to the Shaw abode would go a long way with your mother. She’s desperate to meet my family—Ruth can distract her while we light fires and chant.”

“Not funny.”

A half-smile appeared on Noah’s lips. “Yes it is,” he said. “A little,” he added as my eyes narrowed to slits. “But if you’d rather they didn’t meet, I could burn the doll for you—”

“No.” I shook my head. Noah didn’t get it, and it didn’t even matter to him. He was game for anything, as always. But I needed to see with my own eyes that it was gone. “I want to be there.”

“Then it’s the only way,” Noah said with a shrug.

“You’re not worried about losing the sympathy card?”

“Pardon?”

“If your parents charm
my
parents, you might not be allowed here as much.”

An unreadable expression crossed Noah’s face. “Your mother’s clever,” he said, his voice low. “She’ll see things for what they are.” He stood and withdrew his cell from the back pocket of his jeans. “I’ll have Ruth invite her over tomorrow. For a ladies’ tea.”

“Your dad won’t be there?”

Noah arched an eyebrow. “Highly doubtful. And if he is, I’ll make sure we reschedule.”

“But I want to meet him.”

“I wish you didn’t,” he said as he scrolled through his iPhone.

“Why? Are you embarrassed?”

There was a bitter twist to Noah’s smile, and he answered without looking up at me. “Absolutely.”

I started to feel a bit uneasy. “By me?”

“By
him
.”

“That bad?”

“You have no idea.”

When my mother came home, Noah instructed me to ask her if I could go for a walk with him. I shifted my weight under her stare as she considered me.

“Be back in half an hour,” she said finally.

I grinned, surprised. “Okay.”

“And don’t leave the block.”

“Okay.”

My mother handed me her cell. “I’m trusting you,” she said quietly.

I nodded, and then Noah and I left. He loped gracefully ahead; his stride was so long, I almost had to jog to keep up.

“So where are we
really
going?”

“For a walk,” he insisted, staring ahead.

“Yeah, I caught that. Where?”

Noah pointed down the street at a black car parked under an enormous live oak tree. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

As we approached, an average-looking man exited the driver’s seat of the car. He flashed a bland smile at us.

“John,” Noah said with a nod, “I’d like to introduce you to your assignment.”

John held out his hand. “Mara Dyer,” he said to me as I shook it, “glad to meet you.”

Noah faced me. “John’s been working with a security firm so secure that it doesn’t have a name for—how long, again, John?”

“Since before you were a concept,” the man said, still smiling.

His answer surprised me—he didn’t look
that
old. And he wasn’t tall or broad or bodyguard-ish in any way. Everything about him was unremarkable, from his forgettable clothes to his forgettable face.

“He’s going to be trading shifts with his partner. Between them, they’ve protected four presidents, seven members of the Royal Family, and nine Saudi princes.”

“And now you,” John said.

Noah slid one hand around my waist and lifted the other to my neck, my cheek, tipping up my chin with his thumb.
His voice was soft when he spoke. “They won’t let anything happen to you,” he said.

I won’t let anything happen to you,
he meant.

And he might have been right, if Jude were all I had to worry about. But no one could protect me from myself.

28

N
OAH OFFERED TO FIND AN EXCUSE TO STAY
over that night but I was wary of abusing my parents’ benevolence. He couldn’t stay over
every
night, obviously, but more importantly, I needed to know that I would be okay on my own.

And that night, I was. I slipped into bed and stayed there until morning. Nothing was out of place when I woke up. The ordinariness lifted my mood; Noah had taken my grandmother’s doll with him before he left and later today it would be gone forever. John was watching my house. Noah trusted John and I trusted Noah, and even though I hated to admit it, that morning was the
first time without him that I actually felt safe.

I checked for Jude only once on the way to Horizons, and I was uncharacteristically cheerful as the counselors put me through my paces. The day rushed by in a blur of blissful near-mundanity, considering my situation wasn’t remotely mundane, and I was actually able to worry about something relatively normal for once. Namely: my mother and Noah’s stepmother having tea.

He’d been right about the invitation; Mom really couldn’t wait to meet Ruth. On the way to Noah’s house that afternoon, his parents were all she could talk about. It did not escape my notice that she was more pressed and polished than usual. It almost made me feel guilty for using her as a diversion.

Almost.

My mother went quiet just as I had that thought. I turned to see what warranted the silence, and was unsurprised to find that we had entered Noah’s neighborhood.

My mother’s eyes roamed over each mansion we passed, one completely distinct from the next. When we reached the scrolled iron gate that heralded the entrance to Noah’s house, I told her to drive up. A small camera swiveled in our direction.

My mother shot me a look. “This is Noah’s house?” It wasn’t quite visible behind the trees, not until the tall gate swung open and we drove through.

“Wow,” she breathed. It was the right word. The lush
lawn was bordered by white statues and anchored by a huge fountain in the center: a Greek god clasping a girl who seemed to become a tree. Tiny, low hedges sprouted off into paths, forming intricate designs against the grass.

And then there was the house. Large and imposing, architecturally beautiful and grand. My mother was rapt, but I didn’t quite see it the way she did, not now that I knew how much Noah couldn’t stand it.

We pulled up to the landing where Albert, the Shaw butler or valet or whatever he was called, greeted us with a prim smile to match his prim suit. I half-expected Noah to be waiting by the door for us but lo, it was Ruth herself.

“Dr. Shaw,” my mother said, smiling widely.

Noah’s stepmother shook her head. “Please, call me Ruth. It’s such a pleasure to meet you,” she gushed. Ruth smoothed the linen dress that covered her petite frame and ushered us inside as my mother assured her that no, the pleasure was all hers.

No further formalities were exchanged, however, because the second my sneakered feet touched the patterned marble floor, I was charged by Ruby, the vicious Shaw pug. Who was apparently vicious only to me. The snarling fur-covered sausage ignored my mother completely, but even after Noah swooped in and scooped her up in his arms, she continued to growl at me.

“Bad girl,” Noah said affectionately. He kissed her on
the head as she bared her tiny, crooked teeth.

I stood a healthy distance away. “Where’s Mabel?” I asked. It would be nice to see her again, all happy and healthy and safe.

“Occupied,” he said lightly.

Hiding, he meant. Hiding from me.

My mother didn’t appear to notice anything amiss, however, not even as the dog strained for my jugular; Noah’s stepmother and his house had her full and undivided attention. “I’ve heard so much about you,” she said to Ruth as we passed beneath a giant chandelier dripping with crystals.