BLUE WAS STILL unpacking when I got home with the cake. The girl had a million little statues and gems and runes and bowls that I joked were her virgin sacrifice bowls.
“You are definitely a witch,” I said, sliding the cake onto the counter and taking the ice cream to the freezer.
She laughed and reached into the box, pulling out a couple of metal rods. “Am not.”
“What the hell are those?”
“Divining rods,” she said, as if I were clueless. Which I kind of was.
I unpacked the cheese and crackers I had bought and laid them out on the counter. “All I know is you better not ever try to use those on me.”
She laughed again. “You don’t use divining rods on people, Nik. You use them to find ghosts.”
“Oh, good, that’s so much more sane,” I said. “You find glasses today?”
“Yep, in the cabinet.” I opened a cabinet and she had washed, dried, and neatly stored a dozen drinking glasses. “And all the plates and silverware are party ready.”
I opened the drawers, checking out all the things she’d put away while I was at work answering phone calls at the station. “Not a party,” I said. “Just my dad and Ruby and Vee.”
“And Chris,” she said.
I felt myself blush. When would the blushing wear off, for cripes’ sake?
“And Chris.”
“Speaking of . . .” She rolled her eyes upward toward Chris’s apartment, a floor above us.
“No, he doesn’t know yet.”
“Nikki!”
“I’m about to tell him. Jeez. Leave me alone, Mom.” I was forever calling Blue Mom. She was tiny and young, but definitely a caretaker. She’d been there while my arm healed, through my post-yacht nightmares, and through all my major freak-outs as I sat for my exams. She even went to the library and checked out books to help me learn how to ignore my colors so studying went easier. I wasn’t sure if they always worked, but it felt good to have someone care enough to try.
“He wants to know.”
“I know.”
“He will be disappointed to find out from someone other than you.”
“I know.”
I started down the hallway to my tiny bedroom.
“You should tell him now, Nikki!”
“I know!” I shut the door and changed clothes, peeling off my “secretary clothes,” as Chris liked to call them, and pulling on leggings and a sweatshirt. I tossed my low heels into the back of my closet—God, I hated heels—and dug out my comfy Chucks. These shoes had been through so much. They’d walked the tile of Peyton’s hospital room. They’d been carelessly discarded by Dru’s bed. They’d stood on his blood. They’d been lost at the beach. They’d been to a swanky dinner in Vegas. They’d strolled with Jones and kicked Luna and chased Peter Fairchild. They’d walked into my new apartment to start a new life, away from the place where my mom died and my dad hid so many secrets.
Some days I thought it was time to get rid of the shoes. Most days, I thought I never would.
I stuffed my feet into a pair of socks and the Chucks and gathered my hair up into a ponytail. I checked the time on my phone, then texted Chris.
Workout?
Already there.
Nervous?
What would I have to be nervous about?
I’ll show you in a minute.
“He deserves to know, after everything. . . .”
“Oh my God, are you still talking?” I said. I grabbed my key to the new downstairs fitness room—really, just a treadmill, a heavy bag, and a sparring mat—that we’d talked the landlord into when we moved into Chris’s building, and walked past Blue, making yak-yak motions with my hands.
“I’m excited, okay?”
I looked at her with exaggerated wide eyes. “You don’t say.”
“Just go. Tell.”
“Okay, okay.”
CHRIS WAS ALREADY sweaty when I got there.
“Hey, neighbor,” I said. “Warming up? I don’t blame you. You need all the advantages you can get.”
“Or I need to wear myself out a little first, so I don’t accidentally hurt you.”
I cocked my head to one side. “Hurt me?” I craned my neck, looking past him. “Did you bring an army I don’t see?”
“Army of two,” he said, flexing both biceps.
I pretended to yawn. “Pretty puny army.”
“Oh, really?” He rushed me, grabbed me around the waist, and pulled me to the ground, flipping so he was on top of me, holding my hands down on the mat on each side of my head. “Hmm. I like this hold.” He leaned down and kissed my neck. My world lit up purple.
I tamped down the color and dug my chin into his shoulder, pressing hard so that he let up. I bucked to the side and tossed him off me, then pulled up onto my knees, facing him, my hands at the ready.
“Oh, so it’s like that, huh?” he asked, a devilish smile on his face.
“It’s always like that.”
“Trust me, I know.”
He started to advance on me and I tensed my stance in anticipation. “I passed,” I blurted.
He stopped. “You did? When did you find out?”
“This morning. Flying colors . . .” I thought about it. “So to speak.”
His arms went slack as joy lit up his face. “I told you. I knew you could do it.”
“Just the entrance exam,” I said. But we had both known that was going to be the hardest part for me. “I still have a lot of training to go through.”
He knee-walked to me and wrapped me in a hug. “Congratulations. I’m so proud of you, Nikki.”
I launched all my weight forward, knocking him backward, then jumped up, placed my knee on his chest, and threw a strike, stopping centimeters away from his throat, letting out an intimidating ki-yah as I did so.
He raised his hands, a symbol of surrender. I leaned close, brushing my cheek against his and hovering my lips just above his ear. “That’s Officer Kill to you.”