43
What Doesn’t
Kill You
Still Scares the
Hell Out of You
At first, his words don’t register. And when they finally do, it takes a few more beats for me to remember how to form my own words.
“Kill me?” I finally whisper back to him as my stomach plummets and a chill works its way down my spine. Or I should say, I try to whisper because it’s pretty hard to keep my voice super low now that the squeak is back.
I would be embarrassed, but to be honest, I feel like I’ve got a lot to squeak about. It’s been one hell of a morning, and the hits just keep on coming. “That’s ridiculous,” I tell him even as I wipe my suddenly damp palms against my skirt. “Why?”
“I don’t know yet.”
I take a deep breath, try to get my racing heart back under control as I struggle to think through the panic slamming through me. It takes a minute, but I finally get the anxiety to recede enough that I can answer, “It doesn’t make sense. I’m harmless.”
Especially at this school. I mean, I’m not a threat at a regular high school. I’m sure as hell not a threat at a school where a quarter of the residents can shoot fire and fly.
“There are a lot of words I’d use to describe you, Grace. ‘Harmless’ isn’t one of them.” He glances around the room, eyes narrowed, whether in thought or warning, I can’t be sure. “And if I know that, so do they.”
“Jaxon.” I wrap my arms around my waist and rock back on my heels a little as I try to convince him to see reason. As I try to convince myself that his words don’t mean anything. “You can’t really believe that. You’re just upset at the near miss. You’re not thinking clearly.”
“I always think clearly.” He starts to say more, but then something over my shoulder draws his attention. His eyes narrow to slits that have my heart racing all over again.
I turn and follow his gaze, only to find him staring at the rope that ties to the chandelier so it can be lowered for cleaning. Or should I say what’s left of the rope, because even from here, I can see that it’s in two pieces.
“It broke,” I tell him, but there’s an uncertainty to my voice when I say the words. Because how often does one of those ropes actually break? “Sometimes ropes—”
Jaxon interrupts me with, “Your uncle’s here,” and a small shake of his head.
“So? I want to talk about this.”
“Later.”
Before I can voice another objection, Uncle Finn closes in.
“Grace, honey, I’m so sorry it took me this long to get to you. I was out on the school grounds.” He pulls me into a hug and holds me tight.
Normally, I’d find it comforting—the way he feels and smells so much like my dad. But right now, all I can think about is the look in Jaxon’s eyes when he said someone was trying to kill me. His face was completely blank, completely unreadable. But burning deep in his eyes, where most people don’t get close enough to look, was the most terrifying rage I’ve ever seen.
I don’t want to leave him alone with it, don’t want to let him stay trapped in his own head. But no matter how I pat Uncle Finn’s back and assure him I’m okay, my uncle doesn’t seem to be letting go any time soon.
“I can’t begin to tell you how horrified I am that this has happened to you,” he says when he finally pulls back. His blue eyes, so like Macy’s and my father’s, are sad and shadowed. “Once is unacceptable. Twice in two days…”
I guess I should count myself lucky he doesn’t know about me falling out of that tree a few days ago. Three near-death experiences in a week are a lot for anyone.
Then again, when I think of it like that, suddenly Jaxon doesn’t seem so paranoid. And maybe I don’t seem paranoid enough.
“Well, let’s get you out of here,” my uncle says. “We hadn’t planned on you going to class today anyway, but I would like to talk to you before you go back to your room.”
“Oh, sure.” I can’t imagine what there is to talk about—I mean, what is there to say except whew, close call—but if it will make him feel better, I’m all for it.
Except every instinct I have is screaming at me not to leave Jaxon, screaming that this isn’t the time to walk away from him, though I don’t know why. “But can I come by your office a little later? I have a couple of things I need to do first—”
“Jaxon’s already gone, Grace.” I whirl around to find that my uncle is right. Jaxon is gone. “And I want to talk to you before you see him again anyway.”