He Believed That She Believed

It was strangely intimate, her ideas conveyed by him. She didn’t ask herself if he believed it; he believed that she believed and that was enough. The memory of that day pressed near again as Mallory’s hand closed around her arm. She recalled the way the riders had grabbed her, remembered the stench of the man who pulled her into the sand in an effort to get the arm. His mouth had not been human.

In the shaded space between the tall bookshelves, Eleanor looked into Mallory’s eyes and found she hadn’t far to look at all. He was too close. His eyes, intense and flecked with gold, held the look of a man who would not be deterred. One who needed her help and who somehow believed in the very thing she did. It was a look she knew too well; the look of someone who was hunting for a thing he would have no matter what stood in his way. She had seen the same look on her own face countless times.

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