She robotically followed them into the building where Nevin closed the door despite the warmth inside. Leo’s arms were straight down at his sides, hands clenched as though he was ready to tackle her. Her body stiffened in response.
“Ruby, did you kill your uncle?”
Had she seen a mist in Leo’s eyes? Was she friggin’ seeing things everywhere now? Could she be swept up in a full-blown schizophrenic hallucination? Which was preferable to this all being real, because there were pills for that.
“I tell you about your uncle paying me to toughen you up, you hightail it out of here, and then your uncle dies in a fire.” Leo’s voice softened the way it might if he were talking to an insane person. “I know you were upset, but I want you to think about what happened. Did you go a little crazy? It’s okay, Ruby. You can tell us.”
He thought she’d killed her uncle.
She laughed, a sound that probably corroborated his suspicions because it came out a hysterical cackle. He started to reach for her shoulders, like he was going to restrain her.
She saw the mist swirl again, and before he could reach her, she screamed, “You’re one, too! I can’t believe this.” She grabbed Nevin by his shirt and wrenched him to within an inch of her nose. “What about you? Do you have anything in your eyes? Glows, flames, mists—”
Leo’s arm went around her waist, and he hauled her out of the building as though she were a piece of metal ready to be soldered. Sideways. She kicked and punched him, but he didn’t set her down until they were outside. He waved off Nevin, who looked as though she’d smacked him.
When they were some distance away, Leo set her on her feet and threw his hands up to ward off the fist she was pulling back. “Nevin’s not one of us,” he gritted out. “Rule Number One, Ruby!”
Not one of us. Then Leo’s admonishment about Rule Number One registered, the same thing Mon had said.
“Back away from her. Now.”
The authoritative command came from behind her and made Leo automatically step back. She knew that voice before she even turned. Cyntag looked like a ninja warrior in his white pants and tight black shirt, so out of place, so larger than life that she hoped he was a hallucination. Unfortunately he looked real, from the way the material hugged muscular thighs all the way to the sun reflecting on his dark hair.
She jabbed her finger at him. “You, get away from me. I don’t know what the hell you are—”
“I’m what you are, Ruby.”
“No.” She shook her head hard. “I am not a…” She let the word dragon trail off.
“Who the hell are you?”
She spun to find Jack drawing up, his shoulders wide and hands fisted. His body tensed even more when he met Cyntag’s gaze. The two did some kind of male posturing thing, clearly sizing each other up. Jack was a teenager’s wiry kind of muscular. Cyntag was bigger and buffer, and held an energy that just felt more dangerous. Jack appeared as though he might combust on the spot.
Cyntag looked lethally relaxed. “I’m Cyntag Valeron. You don’t want to mess with me.”
Jack’s jaw tightened. “Well, I sure as hell ain’t gonna let you come in here and harass Miz Ruby.”
Taking Jack’s cue, Leo stepped forward. “Me either. I’m an old friend of hers. I think she may be in trouble, and none of this concerns you.”
Even with two against one, Cyntag didn’t appear as though he were going to back down. “Miz Ruby’s business is my business. She is in trouble, big trouble. I’m her sworn protector, so she’s my responsibility.”
She held her hands up. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I’m not his”—she turned to Cyntag—“your responsibility.” God, she hadn’t been someone’s responsibility since she turned eighteen and took control of the Yard. She looked from Jack to Leo, neither of whom seemed baffled by Cyn’s assertion. “Come on, you can’t know about this sworn-protector business.”
“It’s an honor thing,” Jack said. “You promise to take care of someone at any cost.”
“It was used more often in the olden days,” Leo said. “Back when there was honor. Or so I’ve been told ad nauseam by my parents.”
“I swore it to her grandfather,” Cyntag said. “Brom Winston.”
“Brom?” Leo said. “Isn’t he the dude who predicted the island would sink? He was like Noah, told everyone to build boats and saved a bunch of our ancestors. And he was only ten years old or something.”
Cyntag nodded. “Yes, that Brom Winston.”
Her grandfather, Brom Winston? Then the rest of what they were saying hit her. The island sank. Our ancestors. Ruby staggered, because she couldn’t deny it any longer. Mon’s fairy tales…weren’t tales.