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She nodded with satisfaction. Her duty done, she moved on to Mary.
My question, of course came from the ghastly thought that Danté could’ve damaged me permanently last night, opening old wounds I’d all but forgotten. Wounds that stirred fear and anger in my heart. The body and soul are separate entities, one reflecting the other.
I thought of Jude. His body was beautiful to the extreme. Did it reflect his inner self? Or keep his true self hidden?
I packed up and found Kat right outside the building on a bench where I’d left her, engrossed in her romance. Her expression of deep concentration made me laugh.
“Is it a good story?”
She popped up as we headed back across campus. “It’s so thrilling,” she squeaked. She pointed to the title on the cover. “Captain Sparr’s Captive. I mean, there’s this pirate, Captain Sparr, you see. And Violet, that’s the girl, she’s on a voyage with the British troops to the new colonies in America when the pirates attack. And when she’s captured, oh my gosh, the captain keeps her captive and—”
“Kat! You’re blushingsobad.” I laughed. I’d never seen her stumble over her words.
“I can’t believe people write stuff like this!”
“Okay, Kat. You actually witnessed the sexual revolution firsthand, right?”
“Yes, but, I don’t know. There’s something about reading the words combined with your own imagination that’s so intense! Oops,” she said, pulling out her iPhone vibrating in her coat pocket. “Every hour on the hour, that man.”
“What’s our orders? Back to his house pronto?” I asked as lightly as I could.
“No. He wants us to meet him at Drago’s for dinner after your karate class,” she said with a question in her voice.
“Drago’s?”
I was taken aback, wondering why he’d want to meet there. Drago’s was a four-star restaurant in the Riverfront Hilton over on Canal Street. While Kat texted him back, I glanced down at my frumpy attire. I was definitely not dressed for the occasion. Kat snorted when her phone vibrated a response.
“Smart-ass,” she mumbled.
“What?”
“I asked him why we’re meeting there. His reply was ‘to eat’. Dinner reservations for six o’clock, and don’t be late are his orders.”
I smiled. Playful Jude was back.
“Well, I’ll have to go shower and change from the dojo. I can’t go there like this.”
“Neither can I,” she agreed, waving to her faded jeans with a trendy rip at the knee. “What time does your last karate class end?”
“Five o’clock, but I can get Erik to cover for me so we can jet a little early. He practically runs the dojo with my dad.”
“Cool. Well, let’s go kick some karate butt. Well, you can, anyway. I’ve got a date with Violet and Captain Sparr.” She winked and waggled her eyebrows suggestively.
As it turned out, Erik called in sick, but thankfully, Dad took the class for me. He fell in love with my “new friend” Kat. But who wouldn’t? She put on a particular smile, the one I’d dubbed her Victorian-coquette smile, and he melted like butter. My dad was a sucker for a pretty face. With a hug and a kiss and assurances that I would be careful going out (with my demon-hunter friend), we were off.
At my apartment, I dressed in black slacks, a green silk top that billowed away from my torso, and modest heels, a weak attempt to be more invisible. Kat angled her head to the side and put me in my place.
“Gen,” she said with a sad sigh, “dressing like a secretary won’t hide who you are. You’re a Vessel. You’re stronger than you think. You’ll be stronger yet.” She put her hands on my shoulders. “Trust me. One of these days, you’ll be able to turn assholes like Danté into ash with a glance.”
I straightened. “I wish that day were now.”
“Soon.” She pushed me back toward my closet. “Now go put something on that says, ‘I’m Genevieve Drake, bitches.’”
I stopped in front of the mirror next to my closet, seeing self-doubt weigh me down like a heavy cloak.
There are pivotal moments in every person’s life. Take this path, and you will become this. Take that path, and you will become that.
Like the day I returned to school after my mother killed herself. The mean girls of fifth grade whispered in a corner about how I’d end up crazy and suicidal just like my mother. I had two paths—retreat or stand tall. I chose the latter, thrusting my tiny fist in their faces and threatening to punch their pretty little noses crooked if they ever talked about me or my mother again. It was a pivotal moment.
