The Glass Wall (Return of the Ancients Book 1) (17 page)

Samantha met me at the back door and told me to wash dishes and unpack boxes in the storage room. She didn’t mention Jareth, and I was grateful. I didn’t feel like dealing with him on top of everything else, but then I supposed he’d probably already lost interest and left the shop, anyway.

The work was mindless. It afforded me plenty of time to think. My mind spun around Marquis’ weird red tendrils, Harmony’s excruciating reaction to the hammer, Rafael’s imposing response, and my new fear that he could read my mind.

Rafael’s reaction bothered me the most. I’d come to see him as a bit of a hero, and I knew I was on the verge of developing a crush. However, the side he had revealed this afternoon reminded me that I really didn’t know him. He could very well be the alien equivalent of a Navy Seal that was capable of anything.

As I stacked the last can of mocha mix on the shelves, I made up my mind.

It was time to up my game, time to think about defending myself, both physically and mentally.

As I took the silverware out of the dishwasher, my eyes fell upon the forks. They were stainless steel, but I remembered from school that stainless steel was still mostly iron. The hammer had been iron. It couldn’t hurt to carry a bit of iron around with me. I stuck one of the forks into my pocket.

Next, I had to learn how to protect my thoughts. I didn’t know if that could be done, but it was worth investigating.

On my break, Samantha let me borrow the computer in her makeshift office. Thankfully, she didn’t look over my shoulder as I typed in the query:
How do you prevent aliens from reading your mind?

This search brought up many hits with suggestions. The most popular one being to wear aluminum foil hats, preferably ones blessed by the Pope. There were instructions on how to make your own aluminum thought-screen helmets for humans and cats. Apparently, cats were little alien spies that transmitted data back to mother ships via cell phone towers, and making them wear aluminum hats was the only way to stop them.

I snorted. After thinking a little, I refined my query:
“How do you block a psychic attack?”

This brought up a new selection of results that covered topics from carrying stones and crystals, to bathing nightly in coconut milk and wearing freshly peeled onions around your neck.

However, it also brought up articles about controlling fear. As this was the best response so far, I clicked on a few of the links. They gave instructions on how to envision barriers between you and your attacker, from mentally cocooning yourself into an egg of light to building an imaginary brick wall in your mind. I liked the idea of a brick wall. I could easily picture myself slamming up a brick wall between mind-reading aliens and myself. Heck, I’d been building up mental walls against most humans for years. I wasn’t sure it would work against aliens, but it was my best option at the moment.

Since my break was over, I shut down the computer and headed back to the dishes when Samantha called me up front.

“I need help taking a custom order, Sydney,” she said, poking her head through the door. “Just jot down the numbers for me. We’re really busy.”

“Ok,” I said, and quickly changed into a clean apron.

The shop was very crowded. There was a long line of customers waiting for drinks and tables. Samantha gave me a pen, an order pad, and a black binder containing colored photos of her catering options.

“Just write down the quantities of each item that those girls want. I already have all of the other information,” she explained as she pointed me to a group of girls clustered around a table in the back.

As I neared them, I noticed two things.

The first was that I knew all three of the girls. It was Reese and her two best friends.

The second thing I noticed was Jareth sitting at the table behind them, all by himself. His blue eyes locked on my every move.

Patting my trusty fork in my pocket—to make sure it was still there—I pretended as if I hadn’t noticed him and plopped the binder down on Reese’s table. “Hi, Reese. I’m here to take your order.”

Reese flipped her long black hair off her shoulder and eyed me condescendingly. “Ok, well then, let’s get this over with.”

I mentally agreed with her desire to get it over with, but smiled politely and pushed the binder her direction.

They pretended to look at the pages, but it was obvious they were only interested in Jareth. Reese continually flipped her hair and struck poses on her chair while speaking in a contrived English-like accent to her friends.

“We should order a wide variety of these selections,” she murmured, tapping the pictures with her polished fake nails.

I suppose she thought she sounded sophisticated, but I found her hilarious. Or I would have if Jareth hadn’t been lurking in the background wearing an odd collection of black-laced leather and chains. He lounged carelessly in his chair, his long leather-clad legs stretched out before him, blocking everyone’s path. With his eyes ringed in massive eyeliner and his black hair tortured into a style that reminded me of a porcupine, he looked every inch the rock star.

Everyone in the shop gave him a wide berth and seemed content just to point and stare at him from a distance.

“I’ll take four dozen of these,” Reese murmured in her garbled fake English accent as she pointed to the Poppy Seed Cookies. She flipped her shiny dark hair again and stole another glance in Jareth’s direction.

I wrote the numbers down. “Ok, is that all?”

“No.” She shook her head and warbled, “Let me see. What to do, what to do...”

I snorted, but managed to turn it into a cough as she glowered at me. I didn’t want her to complain to Samantha.

“Perhaps we should make it four dozen?” She consulted with her friends.

They all posed, looking at Jareth from the corners of their eyes.

“You already ordered four dozen,” I pointed out mischievously.

She rewarded me with a dirty look. “Be quiet and just do your job!” she snapped.

Figuring this was going to take a while, I drew up a chair and propped my elbow on the table as she dithered around with her friends, changing the order every few minutes.

I knew Jareth was staring at me, and I wondered if he could read thoughts too. As Reese changed her order yet again, I mentally began to build my first brick wall. I was concentrating on my fifth row of bricks when Samantha reappeared.

“Alright girls, time to wrap up your order.” She took the order pad from me. “You can go back to the dishes now, Sydney.”

I rose, grateful to escape.

I had only managed two steps when I heard Jareth’s drawl, “Samantha, send Sydney over here to take
my
order.”

“These are custom catering items,” Samantha replied tartly.

“Fine! Then I’ll order some of your
custom catering items
,” he said, sarcastically enunciating each word. With his booted foot, he shoved one of the wooden chairs my direction and ordered, “Sit, Sydney.”

Samantha twisted her lips a little; but, with a nod, she returned the order pad and the binder to me.

Reese and her friends stiffened with jealousy, but it wasn’t even remotely amusing. I would have preferred simply to leave.

Reluctantly, I sat at Jareth’s table and opened the binder.

“Just order whatever you want.” He shrugged indifferently. “And keep on ordering every time that dragon wanders by to send you to the back.”

“Huh?” I frowned.

“Don’t play the ignorant fool with me, Sydney.” Jareth eyed me disdainfully. “You’ve been quite busy this afternoon.”

There was no doubt he was referencing Harmony’s incident. Apparently, my brick wall wasn’t working. Well, I had nothing to lose. “So you
can
read minds,” I said.

He stared at me for a moment and then leaned across the table. One corner of his mouth crooked in a mocking sneer as he replied, “My, my, you are quite the surprise. It appears I’ve underestimated you.”

Samantha walked by us with an arched brow.

“So, that will be a dozen of the chocolate mousse cakes at $66.99 each to be sent to the local homeless shelters,” I said, writing the quantity on the sheet. “All customized with the ‘Jareth Sucks’ lettering.”

Samantha stopped mid-step, her eyes widening in alarm, but Jareth gave a rich, deep laugh. When he looked at me again, it was with a genuine flicker of interest.

“Go away, Dragon!” He waved Samantha off. “I’m busy ordering here.”

Hesitantly, she returned to the espresso bar, but I felt her eyes burning the back of my neck. Behind me, I could hear Reese conferring with her friends.

“Perhaps there are other reasons that Rafael has been hiding you.” He eyed me up and down with a chuckle.

I tensed at hearing Rafael’s name.

“Ho! What is
this
?” Jareth straightened in his chair, catching my slight movement. “What has happened? Has our hero disenchanted his heroine?”

I turned the page of the catering binder and added four dozen Lemon Dream pies to the order. Maybe Rafael wasn’t all I had thought he was, but that didn’t mean Jareth was any better. Now that I thought about it, I had learned more from Jareth than anyone else. At least he answered questions. Allowing my curiosity to get the better of me and feeling confident with the fork in my pocket, I couldn’t resist asking, “Did you kill Jung?”

He didn’t even blink. He kept staring at me with that smirk on his lips, as he replied, “No.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “You could be lying.”

“Yes, I could be.” He shrugged and yawned as if vastly bored. “But she wasn’t worth the effort. Look elsewhere to find those responsible for Jung’s death.”

I swallowed. “Rafael?”

He leaned close and whispered. “Now do you believe me when I say he’s dangerous?” He stayed near, breathing heavily in my ear.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Samantha walking our direction.

Jareth noticed her too. He drew back and flicked his finger at the order sheet. “Add some of those muffins.”

I wrote down blueberry muffins, added enough sandwiches to feed a hundred and topped it off with two dozen gift baskets for the staff.

“I see I’m quite generous,” Jareth noted sarcastically.

I got up, as if to leave.

“Sit, Sydney.” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me back down. “I’m not the enemy here.”

“Then who is?” I found myself asking, clutching the catering binder close to my chest.

“Ah, here he is. I knew it wouldn’t be long before he showed up.” Jareth’s eyes focused over my shoulder.

I turned to see Rafael and Harmony making their way through the crowd.

Jareth caught my chin and forced me to look back at him. He wiggled a slip of paper before my eyes. “My number. Call me anytime you need help. I’ll be there, but I can’t come if you have Rafael’s blasted stones in your pocket.”

I took the number and shoved it into my pocket as Rafael and Harmony arrived. I prepared to leave the table, but Rafael quickly drew up a chair, blocking my exit as Harmony also took a seat.

After they had settled, Jareth invited sarcastically, “Please, join us, Rafael.”

“I didn’t want you to fret about Harmony,” Rafael said quietly, ignoring Jareth.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she chimed in, but her words sounded rehearsed.

“I’m really sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You?” Harmony rolled her eyes. “You didn’t do anything! What makes you think
you
did anything?”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Rafael inserted easily. “She’s allergic to bees.”

“Bees?” I gulped, surprised. “Bees!” I was flooded with an immense sense of relief, but it only lasted about three seconds. Scowling a little, I added in a subdued tone, “Bees … this time of year?”

“Surely, you can do better?” Jareth scoffed, withdrawing a coin from his pocket and flipping it over his fingers.

“It has been rather warm of late.” Rafael shrugged, narrowing his eyes at Jareth. “Anyway, it’s nothing that Sydney should concern herself about.”

“Yes, that’s true.” Harmony agreed. “I don’t want Sydney thinking she was responsible. I feel perfectly fine now, anyway.”

“That’s so kind and thoughtful of you, Harmony.” Jareth tossed the coin in the air and deftly caught it on the tip of his finger before leaning over the table to murmur, “We can’t have Sydney thinking she discovered something that might have harmed you now, could we?”

They all glowered at each other. I could feel the tension rising. I moved, preparing to leave, but both Rafael and Jareth each seized a wrist. Their fingers gripped me tightly, but neither one looked at me. Their gazes locked on each other.

Jareth was the first to let go. He arched a brow at the order sheet. “I’m not nearly done ordering, Sydney. Surely, you humans have other charities. Hospitals? Animal shelters? Shopaholic rehab centers?”

The word “rehab” struck a raw nerve. Shaking my hand free of Rafael’s grip, I snagged another order sheet and wrote “Children’s Hospital” on top. I was going to send every kid in there a gift basket, compliments of Mr. Nasty himself. I began to fill out the form.