Page 78 of The Diamond in the Rough

He pulledthe red velvet box out of the wrapper, a smile on his face. It definitely looked expensive enough to be worth putting the necklace in.

I sighed,dropping back out.

“He bought the box,” I reported. “The killer. The enchanter never touched it.”

“For this?” Hart asked.

I nodded. “He needed it to look like it came from a jeweler.”

“Damn,” was Hart’s response. Then he sighed and picked up the box, putting it back in its baggie. “Thanks for checking it again.”

I nodded. “You’re welcome.”

He paused on his way out, just long enough to squeeze my shoulder with one hand.

I watched him go, surprised. As far as I could recall, that was the first time Hart had ever touched me.

I wondered why now.

I was staringhalf-blankly at the computer screen, most of the way through my final paper for Arcane History. It wasn’t the best thing I’d written, but it wasn’t the worst, either. I wasn’t worried about it. It would be more than good enough to pass, and while I enjoyed getting good grades, I also had enough perspective to recognize that whether I got a C or a B or an A on it ultimately didn’t matter.

I already had a job, and you couldn’t yet major in psychic abilities, so the skill that was going to keep me employed—at least at Beyond the Veil—didn’t particularly care how I did in my history class. Mason might, just on a personal level, because he was an ex-history professor, but aside from that, my grades didn’t much matter.

I did have to finish it, though, and I was having trouble concentrating.

Oppressive guilt does not help one to be particularly productive.

Although I was supposed to be writing about the history of psychic abilities—or, at least, claims of having them—I kept coming back to the fact that I owed Rajesh Parikh an apology, and I had no idea how to go about doing it.

First of all, if he wasn’t going to come to Beyond the Veil—which he didn’t seem to be doing, although I didn’t blame him for that—I had no idea how tofindhim without asking Hart. And I didn’t want to ask Hart because then I would have to explain to him what I’d done. And if he didn’t already know, that meant that Raj didn’twanthim to know, and if I told him, then Raj would be even more angry with me.

Second, I had no idea how to apologize for what I’d done. Even I knew that simply sayingI’m sorrywas woefully inadequate when what I’d done was invade his subconscious, dreaming mind.

That wasn’t something you did to people unless you had a very, very good reason. And me wanting to see him, to get to know him better, wasn’t even a slightly good reason. Not without permission, which I definitely hadn’t had.

You can’t consent to something you don’t even know exists.

I sighed.

I needed to finish this stupid paper.

My email chimed softly, a small window popping up in the bottom corner of the screen. The sender’s name was listed as Violette Femme.

Even I could figure that one out.

I clicked on the email.

hi!its your sister but you probably knew that right?

anyway

we should hang

lunch next week?

let me know yeah?

v