Crux Read Online Free Page B

her, push the door open, and fly down the concrete steps. The cab is gone.
    Seriously?
    Up and down the street, I search for another. It’s dark and hard to tell if any of the floating headlights are attached to a taxi.
    My chest tightens as I remember the three army jackets that followed Grey and me. A similar cab idles in the traffic a few cars away. Grey. He’s not here to help you now.
    As irrational as it seems, my heart beats faster at the thought the thugs might be nearby. I’ve yet to recover from my strange adventure in the bank, and before I know what I’m doing, I’ve spun and broken into a run.
    My feet smack the sidewalk, and the jolts shoot up my heels, through my legs to my butt. Mr. Paciotti probably didn’t have sprinting in mind when he designed the heels on my leather boots.
    Reverting to old habits, I take a turn down the alley next to the bank. I blink, adjusting my eyes to the dark as I run. Tall buildings on either side shield me from the gusting winds. Multicolored lights from the city glow in the puddles I splash through. At a sound behind me, I peer over my shoulder. Finding the side street empty, I exhale a sigh of relief until I smack into something hard.
    My eyebrows fly up. “Jeff?”

4
    Jeff stares down at me from a height rivaling Mount Kilimanjaro. “What happened?” he asks in his funny accent.
    I squint up at him and repeat, “Jeff?”
    He lifts a brow. “Oh, yes of course, Jeff . That’s me. Do you live near here?”
    “Not exactly.”
    “I see. Would you come with me to my house?”
    I screw up my eyebrows and give him my best are-you-out-of-your-freakin’-mind look.
    “Never mind.” He glances left. “Are you a coffee drinker?”
    “Um … Yeah.” I’ve only been addicted to the stuff since I was twelve.
    “Good. There’s a coffee house a block away. Follow me.” His trench coat flaps in the breeze as he stalks off.
    He’s a stranger, a man, and he’s big, all good reasons to walk away. As weird as he is, I don’t get the vibe he’s dangerous, and stuff a lot weirder than Jeff just happened in that bank. I ram the toe of my boot against a pothole, convinced Jeff knows more than he’s telling.
    My eyes roll as the distance between us grows. Aw, what the heck. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve followed him. I chuff out a breath as I trudge after him. Something inside me tries to trust a little—a very little—but still, this is huge for me.
    My heel snags on a crack in the sidewalk. I right myself and press on. The man walks impossibly fast—like he’s going for gold in Olympic speed walking, and I’m jogging to keep up.
    At the coffee house, we order, sit, and stare at each other. The place is well lit, with enough customers to flag for help should our meeting go south. I slurp the whipped cream off my cinnamon dolce latte, wipe a dollop off my nose, and try to figure out why we’re here.
    It’s not long before Jeff spreads his hands, fingers splayed on the table in front of him. Big, long hands like a couple of lake trout with fingers. “I need to know … No, wait.” He frowns. “What is your name, please?”
    The tabletop receives my full attention.
    “Do you want answers or not?”
    Yes! “Fine. Everyone calls me Birdie.”
    He purses his lips. “That is not what I asked, but it will do for now. Birdie, what happened to you tonight? You went to the bank, yes?”
    I decide to play along. “Yes.”
    “And something happened to frighten you.”
    My spoon stops halfway between the whipped cream and my mouth.
    “When you held the amulet, it burned?”
    If my life is a plane, Jeff is the kamikaze pilot who keeps shooting my wings off, and sending me into tailspins. All I can do is hope my parachute opens. “You gotta stop doing this kinda stuff to me, Jeff. I don’t know how you know that, but … yeah, something scared me. And so do you.” I lower my spoon to my glass; it tinkles, bouncing off the sides.
    “You know my name is not