The Enchanter Heir (The Heir Chronicles #4) 6

“You want me to give her a tour?” Another surprise for Jonah, and one he didn’t look happy about. “Isn’t there someone else who—”

“It’s good practice for an administrator-in-training,” Gabriel said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make some calls.”

Chapter Thirty-seven

Born Under a Bad Sign

Jonah knew he was walking a tightrope, an abyss to either side. To make matters worse, he wasn’t in command of his own destiny. Any small misstep could collapse the house of lies and omissions he’d built.

It was a predicament of his own making, and yet, looking back, he couldn’t see how he could have done things differently—at least once he’d committed to searching out Tyler Greenwood. When he learned that Emma was alive, he had to go after her. When he found out she was a savant with no place to go, he had to bring her back to the Anchorage. It was the safest place. It was where she belonged.

Jonah wasn’t going to send her to foster care. He was the one who’d orphaned her, after all.

Would she figure it out on her own? Jonah tended to stick in people’s memories. The more time they spent together, the more likely she’d recognize him. Jonah’s plan had been to get her admitted to the Anchorage, and then disappear . . . at least until he was sure her memory loss was permanent. In the past, that would have been easy, given his busy travel schedule. Now that he was out of Nightshade, though, Jonah was landlocked, and both Gabriel and Natalie seemed determined to fling Emma and him together.

“Hey!” Emma’s voice broke into his thoughts. He looked back, to find her clinging to a light post, breathing hard. “Can you slow down? Or are we running a race and you just didn’t tell me?”

“Sorry,” Jonah said, walking back toward her. “I didn’t mean to run away from you. Here, let me carry that.” He reached for her shopping bags, and she yanked them back.

“Just point me in the right direction and I’ll go there on my own,” Emma said. “No need to take up your time, being as you’re in such a hurry.”

Jonah shook his head, pricked by guilt. “You’ll never get into the place on your own. Anyway, we’re almost there. That’s the Oxbow Building up ahead.” They’d already been to security, and to the student center, and he’d scarcely spoken a word the whole time.

It’s not her fault you have so many secrets to keep.

It’s not her fault that you’ve spent your whole life driving people away.

What should he be telling her, if he were giving a campus tour? He pointed. “That’s the dispensary on your right. Gabriel or one of the other healers will do an initial eval, and develop a treatment plan.”

“I’m fine,” Emma said. “I don’t need a treatment plan.”

Jonah chose not to argue. “Here’s the fitness center. It’s brand-new, and it’s amazing. Here, let me show you.” He turned down the walk, but Emma stayed rooted to the sidewalk. “I don’t work out,” she said. “I’ll probably never use it.”

“Come see it anyway? Please?” In the end, she complied, of course, and he showed her the weight room, the dance studio, the gymnasium, the massage studios, and the open sparring gym. Tilting her head back, Emma studied the climbing wall, the obstacle course, the network of gymnastic equipment. “Is this where you learned to climb up cliffs?” she asked.

“Yes,” Jonah said. “Here, and out in the field.”

“Out in what field?”

“Well, you know,” Jonah said lamely. “On real cliffs.” Physical therapists were working with some of the more fragile students in the warm-water pool.

“Jonah!” One of the therapists, Ramon, handed off his client and walked toward them. “I didn’t know you were in town. Who’s this?”

“New student,” Jonah said. “Emma Greenwood, this is Ramon Perez, one of the therapists.”

“Welcome, Emma,” Ramon said. “I hope you like it here. Jonah . . . do you have a minute? I have a question about Kenzie’s treatments.”

“I’m showing Emma around right now,” Jonah said.

“Maybe we can—”

“Go ahead,” Emma said. “I can wait.” She crossed to one of the whirlpools, squatted, and dipped a hand in the water. Jonah turned back to Ramon. “What’s up?”

“I’ve been looping your music during Kenzie’s therapy sessions, like you suggested,” Ramon said. “It’s really improved his exercise tolerance. I’d like to try it with some of the other clients, if that’s all right with you.”

Jonah hesitated. His first impulse was to say no. “The music . . . it’s just something Kenzie and I share. It seems to help him, but maybe that’s because we’re brothers. I have no idea what effect it would have on other patients.”

“That’s what we want to find out,” Ramon said. “You know, kind of an experiment.”

“What if it’s harmful?”

“All right, confession time,” Ramon said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve already tried it on one patient who’d been in steep decline, and I’ve seen some improvement.”

After that, of course, Jonah couldn’t say no. Not to Ramon, who’d been fighting a lonely, losing battle for years.

“All right,” Jonah said. “But go slow, all right?”

“Awesome!” Ramon grinned. “I’ll keep you posted.”

Jonah looked for Emma, but she’d disappeared.

“Emma?” She was nowhere to be found in the hydrotherapy area, nor in the gym they’d just come from.

He finally found her in front of the door to one of the sparring gyms. The display next to the door said Closed session. Jonah could hear the thud of bodies colliding behind the door, shouts of triumph, and screams of pain.

“What’s in here?” Emma asked, trying the door, which was locked, of course. “It sounds like people fighting.”

“It’s martial arts,” Jonah said.

“Can I see?”

“It’s a closed session,” Jonah said. “Look, we’d better get you over to Oxbow. We still haven’t been to the woodshop, and I’ve got to get to class.”

Emma hesitated for a moment, her hand on the door handle. Then she turned away. They were almost to the other end of the hall, when the door to the sparring gym slammed open.

It was Alison Shaw, Bloodfetcher in hand.

“Jonah!” she cried, sprinting toward them. Instinctively, Jonah thrust Emma behind him and stood, facing off with Alison, balanced on the balls of his feet.

Alison’s face registered surprise, which quickly turned to anger. She looked from Jonah to Emma and back again. “What did you think I was going to do?” she demanded. “Attack? ”

Jonah shook his head. “No. I wasn’t thinking anything,” he said. “You just surprised me, is all.”

“I don’t believe you,” Alison said. “Who’s this?” she asked, peering over Jonah’s shoulder at Emma.

“This is Emma Greenwood,” Jonah said, shifting out of the way. “She’s a new student. Emma, this is Alison Shaw.”

Alison studied her. “Are you a senior?”

Emma shook her head. “Sophomore.”

“I thought you looked good, for a senior,” Alison said. Drawing another look of confusion from Emma. Alison rested the point of her sword on the floor and leaned on the hilt. Something Jonah had never seen her do before. Something nobody who knew anything about weaponry would do.

“So where’d you come from, Emma?” Alison asked.

Emma looked at Jonah, and Alison noticed. “I see. Keeping secrets, are we?”

“No secrets,” Jonah said. “Natalie brought Emma in from the shelter. She’s new in town.”

“Speaking of secrets, how much do you know about our Jonah?” Alison asked, directing the question to Emma. “Not much, I’ll bet. Better watch yourself. Jonah may be hot, but he’s dangerous. Deadly, even. Look but don’t touch is my advice.”

Emma looked from Alison to Jonah. “Dangerous?”

“She’s kind of slow on the uptake,” Alison said, smirking at Jonah. “Don’t you think?”

“Come on, Emma,” Jonah said, propelling her toward the door. Thinking, This is turning out to be a disaster. I never should have brought her here.

“Jonah!” Alison called after them. “Don’t forget we have practice tomorrow morning.”

Practice? Jonah thought. Are we on the sparring schedule tomorrow and I just didn’t—oh. Natalie had scheduled Fault Tolerant’s first practice for the next morning. The first practice without Mose.

On the street, Emma eyed him quizzically. “What was that all about?”

“What was what all ab—oh, the practice? She’s talking about the band. Fault Tolerant. Remember . . . the one you saw at Club Catastrophe?”

“I meant the part about you being dangerous.”

Jonah shrugged. “I have no idea. We’re all dangerous in our own way, I guess.”

Fortunately, Oxbow was deserted at this time of day. Room 800 was an efficiency on the eighth floor, several floors beneath Jonah’s apartment. Small, but replete with the high-tech gadgets Gabriel loved. Jonah showed her how the key card and the iris scanner worked, and demonstrated how to activate the security system.

Emma put her food in the refrigerator and set her purchases down on the bed. She took a quick walk around while Jonah hung out by the door. He loved the way she moved, loose-limbed and relaxed, at peace with her body. At one point, she dragged a chair over and stood on top of it to examine the sound system. She stretched up to examine the ceiling-mounted speakers, exposing a strip of flesh between sweatshirt and the waistband of her pants. His pants.

You’re like one of those randy nineteenth-century dudes, Jonah thought. Aroused by a glimpse of ankle.