Ghost Silk (Ghost Perfume, Book 2) | ✔

11 - Tell the truth - Part 2 (Rose; Lukas; Jane)

He could be sleeping or working still, I said, even as I shifted to get up. I don't want to talk to them when they're all together. They're usually nicer to me when they're alone.

Jackal disappeared. He returned smirking. "He's alone in his office. Looks a bit depressed. You might cheer him up."

I nodded and slid off the bed.

"Let down your hair."

"What?"

Jackal gestured impatiently. I undid my bun. The heavy weight of my hair fell down my back. I made to finger-comb it, but Jackal shook his head. "Leave it messy, and take off your sweater. It's not that cold. Don't you have a camisole? Something with lace?" He had the audacity to look into my closet.

I glared at him. "If you're implying what I think -"

Jackal backed away with his hands up. "Oh relax. You look young and naive in the sweater with your hair up. Let's make it slightly more difficult for him to condescend to you, alright? But you're going to have to work with me here, because you make it way too easy -"

"Okay okay."

I was wearing a blush-pink sleeveless top under my sweater. It used to be Mom's. The silk was loose and faded because I'd been sleeping in it for years.

Jackal circled me and approved it.

I studied my reflection. I did look older, with my hair down, in silk instead of cotton.

He shooed me downstairs, following at my heels.

The light was on in the office, the door half-open.

Jackal came ahead of me and hovered at the threshold, partly in the wall. He'd never looked quite as malevolent as he did then, in the heart of Michael's home without Michael's exact knowledge, and wearing a glare of pure loathing aimed, I guessed, at Michael inside the office.

Jackal. What is your problem?

Jackal coquettishly turned to look at me over his bony shoulder. "I just want to see him knocked down a peg."

Why? My tone cooled with a surge of protectiveness towards Michael.

He smirked. "Don't slouch. Do I have to coach you on everything?"

Ugh. Deep breath.

"Michael?"

Michael stood with his arms braced against the desk. His dark head was bent over the laptop, but as I came in he raised it. At first he seemed unsurprised and he parted his lips, but he stopped before speaking. His gaze flickered over me.

I curled my bare toes into the carpet.

"Nightmare?" he asked very softly.

This was going to be so bad. Far from appearing like himself, his hand held the edge of the desk in a white-knuckled grip.

"No, I didn't ... I need you to let me cross through the portal. Tonight before we drive to Vermont. You could come with me."

His face shuttered. "What's this impatience?"

"I need to cross."

"You do not need to do anything except follow my orders. Enough. I do not want to argue with you."

I swallowed and stepped closer. His hand tightened further on the desk; the muscle jumped in his arm.

"I feel terrible about how I disappeared, I was so wrong for that," I started honestly. Despite telling myself to stay calm, emotion rose in the back of my throat, shaking my voice.