Protecting Truth Read Free Page A

possible meetings with the Underground and finding my mom, I might visit this room more often to investigate all the intriguing inventions. And maybe, I amend, if the annoying Turner weren’t here all the time, working as the professor’s assistant.
    Thick smoke clears just enough to notice the small ripped pieces of brown paper at my feet. Little shreds, like pieces of bread, wind their way through the room on the floor, making a trail especially designed for me to follow. The paper trail can only mean one thing. Turner’s opened my package.
    I grind to a stop. Angry heat rushes to my face. My hands clench at my sides, and I consider my options. It’s important to keep my feelings under wraps. I cannot, under any circumstances, allow him to know the importance of the package’s contents.
    Taking deep breaths, I control my temper. My blood pressure drops, and I relax my shoulders. When I regain my composure, I walk on to find him.
    Turner appears out of a puff of hazy smoke. He smiles, pleased with himself. His sculpted arms hang lazily, flung over the back of a mohair-covered couch. He tilts his head back, relaxing his neck, and stares at the wood-beamed ceiling.
    “Seraphina, you’re so incredibly slow,” he says in an exasperated drawl.
    “Please don’t call me that.” I frown.
    He lifts his head and careless black locks of hair fall forward, partially covering his face. Dazzling eyes land intently on mine, again. Always staring. Turner’s eyes always seem to search mine in that sultry manner. What is he looking for?
    I look away from his annoyingly handsome face. My gaze falls on the box. It rests on an overstuffed ottoman before him. He’s unwrapped the outer paper. From here, it’s unclear if he’s opened the box to see what’s inside.
    “Don’t you want to open it?” He smirks.
    I exhale, attempting to act unfazed, but don’t answer.
    “Don’t worry, you can take it now. I’ve had my fun,” he says seriously, but I’m not sure if he’s teasing, still playing games.
    I raise my eyebrows and place my hands on my hips, remaining silent.
    “Really, take it. It’s yours, after all.”
    My eyes never leave his, no matter how uncomfortable they make me feel. He enjoys toying with me, so I’m not positive if he will jump up, grab the box, and disappear again.
    I inch toward the ottoman. When my shins butt against the edge, I bend down and quickly scoop up the package. My fingers curl around its edges and I relax, knowing it’s in my possession again.
    “See, I told you.”
    “Whatever, Turner. Really, you’re a pain, you know?”
    “I try.” He grins. “Seriously, why don’t you open it?”
    “Later!” Completely agitated, I turn to walk away.
    “Professor Raunnebaum mentioned that you needed to discuss something with me,” he calls out.
    Right. I forgot. I swing around. “Yeah—that. I need a few more defense holograms.”
    “Already? You’ve mastered all thirty-six?”
    “Yeah.” I cough, waving away a silver plume of smoke.
    “I’m impressed.” He’s thoughtful for a moment. “Although, it seems unnecessary to program more defense routines when Bishop returns tomorrow, and your Defense Arts classes will start soon.”
    “About that—”
    “Yes?” He says the word with cautious curiosity.
    I pace, looking at the floor. “I was hoping—I—we—could keep my summer defense training off the record? I mean…” I exhale, looking for the proper words, ones that seem less alarming. “Of course, Bishop knows I’ve been practicing, but I really don’t want him or anyone to know how intently I’ve been working.” I hesitate and stop to face him. “Like a surprise,” I lie with a tight smile.
    He sits in attention, folding his hands on his legs and leans into the conversation. “Really?”
    “Yes.” I begin to pace again. “In fact, I want to continue the lessons, shall we say—on the side. Quietly, of course.”
    “Hmm.” He sinks into the maroon couch,