“Yeah, I know.” I rolled a shoulder. “It’s been a long night. I’m going home.”
He stepped toward me. “I’ll walk you—it’s not safe out there and you’re not in a good state to—”
Something inside me snapped, and everything I’d been stuffing down bubbled to the surface and spilled out. I stalked up to him until we stood toe to toe, my teeth bared, white-hot anger at him and myself and the injustice of the whole stupid kingdom pulling the words out of me.
“I thought you were different. I thought you were good and kind and just, but you’re just like the rest of them.” I jabbed a finger into his hard chest as he gaped at me, startled.
“You think the world is black and white, full of good people and bad people—but you know what, Peter? It’s not that simple and easy.” I glared at him. “And you think I’m this poor defenseless little innocent, down on her luck and in need of a big strong man to protect her and save her.”
My chest heaved.
Peter’s face contorted with pain. He glanced around—no one stood near us except for the wide-eyed Daisy. He spoke in a strained voice. “I don’t think you’re defenseless, Jolene, but you have to admit you’re at a disadvantage. And yes, I feel I should protect you, but you’re a good person and deserve—”
I shook my head, a reckless, wild emotion washing over me. The words I’d anguished over for months flowed right out of me. “Would you still think I’m a good person if you knew the truth, Peter?” My lips parted in a wry smile. “I’m a shifter.”
His eyes locked with mine for a moment, then he slid his gaze to the side and shifted on his feet. He huffed. “Listen, I know what I said earlier might sound unfair to shifters, and I get what you’re saying, but you don’t know what they’re like. I’ve been dealing with their kind for years, and if you understood how they lied for each other and—”
“Peter!"
He snapped his gaze to my face. We locked eyes.
“I’m telling you,” I enunciated each word, “I am a shifter.” I jerked my head toward Daisy.
He looked down at his dog. Her wide eyes darted from me to Peter and she let out a little whine and wagged her tail. Truth.
Peter jerked his head up to look at me, and I saw it happen. I saw the image he had of me die. That light in his eyes flattened as he continued to look at me and he paled, stricken. Though we stood toe to toe, the distance between us widened into a cavern. His mouth flattened into a grim line.
I gulped. My gut twisted with anguish, and yet a feeling of lightness washed over me. I’d told him the truth.
He edged back, and tears welled in my eyes.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” I turned and stalked out of the gift shop.
30
BROKEN
On my way through the lobby, Quentin waved and jogged up to my side. I roughly wiped away the tears that tracked down my cheeks.
“What’s up?”
He looked me over and wisely decided not to ask questions. “I, uh—I just had a chance to do a little research on your friend’s curse.”
Oh, right. I stopped speed walking and turned to face him, arms crossed. “And?”
He licked his lips. “How long has your friend been cursed?”
I thought back. “A few years at this point.” I glanced over my shoulder toward the gift shop. I wanted to get out of here ASAP.
Quentin nodded and bit his lip, thinking it over. “Okay. Most curses don’t tend to last that long on people—they’ll run out of juice or be broken first. Long-lasting ones, like your friend’s, are actually feeding off the person’s powers to sustain themselves.” He lifted a palm. “So they’ll typically dampen the powers, or like in your friend’s case, drain them completely.”
I blinked at him. “So you’re saying I—I mean, my friend hasn’t actually lost her powers? The curse is just feeding off them to sustain itself?”
He nodded. “Precisely.”
Well, that was just creepy. I tended to think of the curse as a thing from my past—something that happened years ago. I glanced down at my hands. It was unnerving to think the curse was more like a living parasite that continued to feed off me. I raised my eyes. “You learn anything about cures?”
His throat bobbed. “Well, you mentioned something about the curse having a side effect?”
I nodded, not in the mood to elaborate on that point.
He blew out a gust of air. “It’s possible the curse reacted badly with your friend’s magic for some reason—could be something unique about her powers, or if she tried to defend herself, it could’ve reacted with the counter spell she was using.”
I thought back to that Bruma Eve party at my old law firm. Zale had just asked me to marry him, and Emerson had announced my promotion to partner. My emotions were running high when Eve charged toward me, vial of potion in hand.
I could picture that glazed look in her eye, the purple liquid hurtling toward me and— I gasped. In that moment, it had been pure instinct, but I’d started summoning my powers to shift into my owl form. Maybe the curse had reacted with my shifting abilities and given me the unintended side effect of being able to speak to animals.
I shook myself and came back to the present. “Okay. So how do we fix it?”
The archivist sighed. “Unfortunately, that cross-reaction makes it even more complicated. You’d need to know exactly what was used in the first place. Guessing at a cure could only make things worse, even result in death. And with the cross reaction, even knowing the original curse’s ingredients might still not be enough, since the original curse may have mutated.”
My heart sank.
Quentin rolled a wrist. “Plus, the longer it’s gone on, the
