The Artisans by Julie Reece Page B

think Edgar is hiding in my paperwork, do you?” He slams the ledger on his desktop shut. His bloodless face is less than a foot from mine. “In the future, should you need something, inform Jamis or Jenny. They have permission to be here. You do not. Now get out!”
    “Hey! I—”
    “Get the hell out!” He swipes the lamp from his desktop, and it shatters on the floor.
    Anger swells my chest. He angles as if he’ll walk away, but my finger juts out. I poke his chest, stopping him. “Quit bossing me around, Gideon.”
    His gaze drops to my finger and back to my face as if I’ve lost my mind.
    “Look, I’m sorry. Do you think I wanted to come in here? I said I would play your game your way, but don’t talk to me like I’m nothing. I almost pissed myself a dozen times living in your stupid, ghost-filled, nightmare-inducing, creep show of a house.” My throat constricts. Tears burn, threaten to fall. “And I want my cat!” He could be sick, hurt, chased by a poltergeist in the shape of a dog. I have to know he’s okay. “He’s all I have.”
    Gideon straightens to his full height. I swear the corner of his mouth twitches.
    Is he laughing at me? More water collects in my eyes, threatening to spill over the rim. He’s not going to make me cry again. At least, he’s not going to see it. I whirl and run around the far side of his desk.
    I leap aside as he lunges for me. “Raven, wait.”
    Wait? Nothing doing, pal. It’s too late for talking. “Go, stay, come, fetch, beg …” I’m muttering like a loon as I break for the door, but I don’t care anymore.
    “Raven, you’re out of control.”
    Seriously? And smashing a lamp isn’t? I’m stressed. I’m female. I’m an artist. That’s pretty much the trifecta of emotion. When I hear a thud, I fly out the door and down the hall. Footsteps echo behind me. He’s moving pretty fast for a guy who needs a cane. Maybe I was wrong about that.
    Thunder crashes outside, as I reach the stairs. My heart stutters the boom is so loud. When I glance behind me, there’s no sign of Gideon. Maybe he gave up. I skip down the steps, anxious and unhappy. The confrontation rattled me more than I want to admit. No, I shouldn’t have gone into his office, but I didn’t know it was his office or that he’d come home. So that happened.
    And my cat is still missing.
    What next?

Chapter Ten

     
     
    In my room, I stuff the stolen letter in a poetry book and make one last search for Edgar. No luck. I flop on the bed. Exhaustion weighs me down as though there’s an anchor parked on my stomach. Lightning flashes outside, thunder follows in its wake. The clock on the wall reads two in the morning, if it can be trusted. There’s something odd about the clocks in this house. They’re old, and stop and start when they feel like it. Maybe they need winding. I raise my head, reading the clock again to make sure. Yep, two o’clock.
    I lift a boot to my hand and unlace one, then the other. They fall in consecutive thuds on the carpet. The cool air feels great on my sore feet. Gideon’s face drifts into my mind. I can’t believe I straight up confessed I’d been snooping in his office. I’d been so embarrassed when he found me; I went on the defensive immediately. Boy’s got quite a temper, ordering me out of the room like a naughty child, which didn’t help. Still, when he’d tried to stop my leaving, his voice was, well, not apologetic or anything, but sincere. Sort of. Maybe earnest is a better word. I get the feeling he actually wanted to talk, but I was too mad to care. And now? Am I still mad? Hell yeah, but I’m curious, too.
    Shame he’s a jerk, that’s all.
    I force myself up and change into my black tank top and drawstring pants. Kneeling to gather my dirty clothes, I consider searching the attic next for Edgar. A soft knock against my bedroom window has my neck twisting around. Another flash shows the silhouette of a person there.
    Raven …
    “Cole?” I’m up