The Psychic Next Door

Chapter 21: Theory

As Luc suggested, I left Polly alone for the rest of the day. Knowing how stubborn she was, it'd be best to leave her to her thoughts for now. She hadn't spoken a word to me since, not even to reply to my 'goodnight' as we settled into our makeshift beds that evening.

Despite her sour mood, Polly easily fell asleep. But I couldn't. I just studied the ceiling as I lay on the foam mattress, trying to settle my mind, but what Luc had said this afternoon was running on a loop in my head.

"I must've regained some of Rachel's trust after we... talked."

Was that all it took? Talking? But we had done more than just talk... Heat spread through me as I thought of the kiss. My fingers went to my lips, running over them like I could still feel a trace of his mouth.

The kiss... It had been a rash decision, a bad choice, but—and it was difficult to admit to myself—it had felt good. And I couldn't help but think the kiss had been more responsible for mending my trust than the talking. But it wasn't like I could test that theory...

Could I?

Polly stirred on the nearby futon, and I started, like she had caught me doing something wrong even though it had all been in my head. I heard her mumble dreamily, and then sigh... just as the Beast let out yet another low growl next door. I turned to stare at the wall that divided us, listening intently for the sounds of the Beast's movements on the other side. The rhythmic clacking of its claws was slow and lazy like it was getting tired of fruitlessly pacing my ruined apartment.

My eyes drew up the wall, to the ceiling, where the golden script traced along the edge. How long would the barrier hold? The Beast seemed to be getting more and more powerful, would it soon be able to break through? The thought of it made my chest tighten like it was closing in on my now racing heart.

I tore my gaze away and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block all the panic from my mind. It did me no good to dwell on this, and definitely not right now. I rolled over and tried to settle into the bed again, willing my body to sleep. But as soon as my eyes closed, my thoughts returned to Luc... and his lips.

With no small amount of effort, I tried to push the thoughts back. I tried to focus only on the softness of the pillow—the same pillow he had used, my mind cruelly reminded me—and the warmth of the bed—where his warm body had lain, it chimed in again. After a few restless moments, it quickly became obvious that sleep was a lost cause. I threw off my covers and lurched up in bed.

Even though it seemed crazy, I knew then that I had to do something, anything. Our situation was precarious, and I had no idea how long we could maintain this illusion of safety. We were trapped, stuck, and nothing was going to change unless we did something. What I was thinking of doing was crazy, but maybe I needed to be a little crazy.

There was only one way to find out.

Waking Polly would put bring a quick end to my plan, so moving as quietly as I could, I crawled out of bed, got to my feet and slipped through the curtain. She didn't even stir as I tip-toed past the futon and made my way to the door of Luc's bedroom.

Holding my breath, I tapped gently with my finger, then glanced back over my shoulder to make sure that Polly hadn't been disturbed; fortunately, she stayed where she was, her chest still rising and falling in an even rhythm.

After a few quiet seconds with no answer, I worried he hadn't heard me. I went to tap again, but as I raised my hand, the door opened, just a bit. His pale, stubbly face appeared in the darkness.

"Rachel?" Luc breathed, obviously surprised to see me. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"No, everything is fine," I whispered back. "I was just wondering if I could, uh, come in."