“Then why can’twe open one? Why can’t you?” Michael’s frown deepened. “Maybe you missed the guy. Maybe—”
“No,” I interjected. “I looked for him, for his tracks. He didn’t simply run or hide, Michael. He vanished.”
“So you think…what?”
“Remember what EenLi said about the portals not always being open?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“That means they are opened and closed. They could be opened and closed through solar flares. Because of solar flares. Cause the solar flares.Something. ”
“Possibilities, yes, but they raise the question of whyyou have never vanished during one. Over the years, you’ve been in the middle of several.”
True. My hands curled into fists. I was so close to the truth. I knew it. But so close wasn’t what I needed. “There has to be a reason, a catalyst that sucks someone through. When is the next flare due, do you know?”
“I’ll check on it.”
I rubbed my forehead. “I wish my parents were alive. I could ask them how we came to this world.”
Michael stiffened, just as he always did when I mentioned my biological parents. I immediately regretted my wistfulness. I suspected when I spoke of them, Michael felt I was somehow dissatisfied with him. I wasn’t. Michael had worked hard to raise me. Very hard. He hadn’t hired nannies or shuffled me off on other people. No, he’d kept me near him, seen to my every need and want. I loved him all the more for it.
I hurried to change the subject. “Could the other-worlders be using some sort of homing device?”
“Again, it’s a possibility,” he said. “I’ll do a little research on solar flares and keep you posted on what I find.”
“Thank you.”
He patted my hand. “I hope you’ll go to your fitting when we get home,” he said. “That seamstress, what’s her name, Celeste?”
I shrugged. I didn’t know, either.
“She nearly cut out my heart with her needle and thread when I told her you would be gone for an entire day.”
I laughed. “Give her a raise. I like her style.”
We reached the house a few minutes later. I shifted to command the door to open, but Michael caught my wrist in his hand. His features tightened. “Eden,” he began. “You know I love you, right?”
My stomach instantly clenched. “What’s wrong?” I asked, my concern making the words sharper than I’d intended. He told me he loved me all the time, but there was something in his voice this time—something deep and filled with pain.
“Nothing,” he said, turning away. “Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to remind you how I feel about you, that’s all.”
“Michael—”
He emerged from the car without another word to me, leaving me mystified.
Chapter 11
Still reeling from Michael’s words, I grabbed my bag and tugged Agent Luc from the car. We quickly stormed the house, leaving the heat of the afternoon behind us, along with the trees and birds and colorful flowers that encompassed the home. I had every intention of hunting my father down and demanding an explanation. I didn’t buy his “I just like to remind you” line. He liked to remind me, sure, but never with such stark pain in his eyes.
Before I found him, however, the seamstress—Celeste—found me.
Agent Luc plopped protectively at my feet as Celeste bounded down the stairs, needle and thread in hand. “Where have you been?” she scolded. “I have eleven dresses and six pantsuits to finish, and yet you abandon me at the most pivotal part of my work.”
“You don’t need me here to finish.” Frowning, I hoisted the weight of my bag over my shoulder. “You have my measurements.”
Exasperation flittered over her pretty features, and she tossed her hands in the air. “Fine. You want the clothes to slip from your shoulders, tear when you run, and reveal your precious weapons, that’s fine with me. I will sew another’s name in the garments so no one knows they are my creation.”
“Great idea,” I said and turned toward the study where I knew Michael had gone. The doors were closed, most likely locked.
Celeste screeched, the high-pitched sound echoing off the walls. “Go to your room and try on those clothes, Eden Black. Now!”
I spun and faced her. I opened my mouth to offer her a stinging retort, but noticed how her chest heaved, how her eyes gleamed. She was as passionate about her work as I was about mine. I respected that.
“What are you waiting for?” she prompted. “An engraved invitation from the Rakan king? Go.”
“This isn’t a good time.”
She pushed a breath from her pursed lips, and her shoulders drooped slightly. “There is never a good time with you.”
I cast one last glance toward the study door, then reluctantly leapt up the stairs with Agent Luc close to my heels. “Next time someone talks to me like that, you attack. Understand?”
She whimpered.
I rolled my eyes. Useless canine. Thankfully, the pinching and poking of my fitting only lasted an hour, and Celeste quite happily went on her way.
While Agent Luc slept on the bed, I allowed myself a long, lingering shower, letting the steamy water wash away the trials of the last few days. Afterward, I brushed my hair and changed into comfortable lounge pants and a shirt, then strode into Michael’s office. He was absent, but two women were cleaning and dusting. I fought a wave of disappointment.
“Come back later,” I told the women.
They nodded and hurried out. I reallydid need my own place, I realized. Somewhere private and all my own. Unlike Michael, I’d do my own damn laundry and cleaning. I didn’t like how freely he admitted his staff. Yes, he took precautions against theft and spying, but was that ever enough?
Alone, I logged onto the computer with a spoken “Eden F. Black.” I e-mailed Colin Foley, a quantum physics instructor I’d once dated, asking for information on solar flares and potential transportational properties. He might know nothing; he might know something. We’d ended our two-year relationship amicably, so I didn’t doubt he’d return my message. I stressed the importance of a speedy reply—which I hoped to receive before I left for New Dallas.
As I stared at the screen, willing him to replynow, my eyes began to burn and water. I yawned. I’d been up the last two days and needed sleep. Pushing out a breath, I shut down the computer and left the comforting familiarity of the office.