“I trust you, Cherry, I do. But have you considered you’re on edge because this is the only person I’ve seen you interact with that you can’t read instantly? Let’s go back in there. I’ll play the part of the chastised moneybag, and you charm her just like you do everyone.”
He… I…
Did we stay? Or did we turn tail and split like a banana?
Shewasthe closest we’d gotten, and up until this point, I’d been arguing that we should try. But something about the switch up between thinking she had no emotional energy signature to finding out that she did was making the hair on the back of myneck stand on end. We were wasting time with someone who wasn’t the killer and wouldn’t give us information. The longer we stayed in her clutches, the more at risk we were.
“Look,” Paul said, his voice gentle as he put his hands on my shoulders. “I trust you, Cherry. You’ve already done so much for my family and saved my baby brother’s life. If you’re too nervous because of her lack of psychic signature, let me take the helm on this. I’m used to being blind to this stuff, so it’s not as jolting to me.”
He smiled sweetly at me, and I wished I could paint a picture for Paul to show him how that foreboding malevolence was slowly seeping in, how the little streaks of amusement were beginning to shift to something sharper and craggier. Sometimes, seeing emotions like I had synesthesia was a huge boon.
And sometimes it sucked ass.
“I’m telling you, she’s not connected to the death of your brother. I’d be able to tell.”
“Respectfully, how? Dryads are immune to?—”
I had no idea what came over me. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the guilt. Maybe it was just my desperation to get out of there because I knew all the way down to the soles of my feet that this woman wasn’t connected to the assassination of Paul’s family.
Whatever the reason was, my mouth was moving and words were spilling out before I could stop them.
“It doesn’t matter that she’s a dryad because I’m a fucking empath, not a psychic! Whoever killed your brother had noemotionalsignature, and I can assure you, that woman has one!”
Oh.
Oh dear.
Did I really just say that?
I’m so stupid!You let the cat out of the bag.
Well, I guess the jig is up.
Does he hate me?He has to hate me.
Maybe we can get him to safety now, though?
Ruined it!
You ruined it!
God, you’re such a failure.
This is what I get for lying.
What does he think?
What does he think?
What does he think?
What does he think?
What does he think?
Does he hate me???What does he think?
What does he think?