A BLADE BETWEEN OUR HEARTBEATS

Chapter 6

Damien didn't back up. He didn't step forward either. He just stood there, existing as an immovable, oppressive force in her peripheral vision.

"We are almost finished," Damien said. His voice was perfectly level, betraying nothing of the tension snapping in the air between them. "There is one more item in this crate. A separate casing."

Kai wiped a bead of sweat off her collarbone. Her shoulder was throbbing a dull, steady rhythm from catching the astrolabe. She just wanted this over with. She wanted to be back in the basement with her headphones on.

"Fine," Kai muttered, turning her back to him.

She dug her hands past the remaining layers of gray packing foam. At the very bottom of the crate, resting flat against the wood, was a long, narrow box made of dark, polished mahogany.

Kai hooked her fingers under the edges and hauled it up, carrying it to the metal table. She flipped the brass clasps. They were stiff, biting into the pads of her fingers.

She opened the lid.

Inside, resting on a bed of faded, dark crimson silk, was a heavy bundle wrapped tightly in black velvet.

"Take it out," Damien instructed. He had moved closer again. He was standing right next to her shoulder. The smell of him—heavy ozone, wet earth, and something metallic, like old copper—made Kai's stomach twist.

Kai hesitated, her fingers hovering over the velvet. She remembered the static shock in the basement. The hallucination of blood.

"I... I can't touch the artifacts without gloves," Kai lied, taking a half-step back, putting the table between them. "Museum policy."

Damien looked at her. He didn't call her on the lie, even though she had handled the last twelve items bare-handed. Instead, he reached into the box himself.

He lifted the velvet bundle. He didn't unwrap it, but the shape of it was unmistakable. It was the dagger. The same one from the basement. The heavy, hawk-shaped hilt pressed against the fabric.

He held it out across the table toward her.

"I'll... I'll just get a box," she muttered, reaching out awkwardly to grab the velvet wrap he was holding beneath the blade.

She misjudged the distance. The back of her knuckles brushed against his fingers.

His skin was freezing. Like touching a windowpane in January.

A jolt shot up Kai’s arm, snapping her teeth together.

Fingers digging violently into her hair, pulling her head back. A mouth crushing against her jaw, burning hot, desperate. The taste of blood and salt. A ragged breath against her ear. "Seraphine... God, please—"

Kai ripped her hand back with a choked gasp, knocking the dagger out of Damien's grip. It clattered to the floor again, the heavy metal ringing sharply against the linoleum.

She scrambled backward until her spine hit the drywall. She clamped a hand over her mouth, her chest heaving, staring at him with wide, terrified eyes. Her lips actually felt bruised. She could still taste the salt.

Damien hadn't moved. His hand was still suspended in the air.

His face was completely frozen, the blank, aristocratic mask fractured down the middle. For a long, agonizing second, he just stared at his empty hand. The muscle in his jaw flexed so violently Kai thought she might hear the bone c***k.

"Who..." Kai choked out, the word tearing at her throat. She couldn't catch her breath. The room was spinning. "What was that? Who is Seraphine?"

Damien slowly lowered his hand. He didn't look at her. He looked at the floor, at the velvet-wrapped dagger lying between them.

When he finally looked up, his eyes were different. The flat, dead black was gone. A dark, muddy red was bleeding around the edges of his irises. It was the most terrifying thing Kai had ever seen.

"It is a very old weapon," Damien said. His voice sounded like it was being dragged over broken glass. He wasn't answering her question. He was ignoring it completely. "It carries... echoes."

"That wasn't an echo!" Kai yelled, dropping her hand from her mouth. She was shaking so badly her knees felt loose. "That was... I felt that. You felt it. What did you do to me?"

Damien took a single step toward her, and Kai flinched so hard her shoulder cracked against the wall.

He stopped instantly.

He took a slow, deep breath, his chest expanding beneath the tailored wool of his suit. He closed his eyes. When he opened them, the red was gone, buried back under the flat, dead stones.

"You will finish the inventory," Damien said, his voice dropping to a harsh, quiet whisper that offered no room for argument. "You will log that dagger. And you will be here tomorrow at eight."

"No," Kai gasped, shaking her head. "I'm telling Higgins I'm done."

"If you walk away from this exhibit, Kai," Damien said, looking directly into her terrified gray eyes, "I will pull the funding. I will ruin this museum, and I will ensure you never touch an archive again."

He turned on his heel. He didn't pick up the dagger. He walked to the heavy door, pulled it open, and stepped out into the bright gallery.

The door clicked shut, leaving Kai alone in the suffocating room, sliding down the drywall until she hit the floor, entirely unable to understand why her lips felt bruised by a man she had just met.