own. Except for the scarf. Gael specifically asked—no, demanded—that I keep it on at all times. I had found it strange, but it was a gift. I had trusted him.
"You know what I'm talking about," Thrain whispered, inching closer.
I shook my head. Gael? Of all the people in the world, it couldn't be Gael. Was it really the scarf? Something broke inside of me, and a cold sensation crept up my chest. "Just a coincidence," I muttered. "It has to be a coincidence." I knew I was fooling myself because my mind was telling me one thing, and my heart another. It was clear my heart wasn't willing to believe it when Gael had been the one to take care of me all those months.
Gael and I had known each other for a while. We had been friends ever since I visited my father to spend Christmas with him and his family in New York. Theo and I had been ice-skating in Central Park when Gael and his brother, Derrick, bumped into us. We had a great day and decided to meet again. And we did, almost every day for the entire vacation, until Theo died. While I wasn't in love with him, I trusted him and knew he would never betray that trust. Most of all, I felt safe with him. He never treated me badly, he always tried to help me and make me feel better about myself and my music. He was always there for me. I could hear my heart screaming, protesting, becoming hysterical. It couldn't be Gael. Maybe he was just a victim. For all I knew he could have received the scarf from someone else who claimed it'd keep me safe. Knowing Gael, he fell right into that trap because he cared so much about my wellbeing.
I brushed a hand over my face as I listened to my mind's arguments. Why did he take me to see a fortuneteller? Why had he been so irritated recently? I turned to Thrain. "Do you think I could make a call?" He shook his head. "A text?" I winced at the thought of breaking up with Gael via SMS. He deserved better than that.
"Not happening. It could be traced. But you can send an email if you want to."
"That can be traced as well," I said.
"Luckily, I know a thing or two about computers." He jumped up and reached down to help me. The way his hand wrapped around my fingers felt natural as though it had always belonged there. Barefoot, I let him lead me downstairs to an old-fashioned library with huge black couchs and bookshelves leading up to the ceiling. Cass, Aidan and Amber were gathered around a fireplace where flames leapt at two logs. Their conversation stopped the moment we entered and all eyes turned on us.
"I think I'm having a déjà vu, only now I'm not the mortal feeling completely out of place. Funny how life can turn out," Amber said. Under the harsh light, I caught a glimpse of tiny lines around her eyes, something I hadn't noticed about the others, and for the first time the thought that she might've been mortal once entered my mind.
"We need to use the computer," Thrain said.
"Is it safe?" Aidan asked.
"I'll make it safe," Thrain replied. His grim expression betrayed his willingness to challenge anyone who dared defy his wishes. I squeezed his hand, only now realizing he was still holding me tight. I wondered what the others would make of it.
Amber shrugged and pointed at a notebook on the table in front of her. It was already switched on. "Help yourself. Just don't mess this up." She stood and left the room with a smiling Aidan following suit. Cass trailed behind but not before shooting us a doubtful look.
Thrain started typing on the sleek, black device. I peered over his shoulder as he closed the last browser window and caught the title 'Voodoo and South American practices of black magic'. Black magic—that didn't sound like something I ever wanted to try.
"Ready," Thrain said, pushing the notebook toward me. "You can send your email from here. Do not navigate away from his site. I'll wait outside."
I shook my head. "No, don't. I want you here. Just turn away."
"As you wish." He turned his back on me, so I began typing. By the time I finished the paragraph my back was slick with sweat. For some reason, I felt as though I had just sealed my