As soon as we drove up to the apartment complex, I saw Tobin leaning against a car with his arms crossed. Waiting. His eyes were hidden behind stylish sunglasses, but his posture gave away his mood. He. Was. Intense. Wow, I pictured him all wrong. I figured Tobin was a truck guy. A big, jacked up, modified, and customized asshole-mobile with a lightbar and oversized mud tires. Something that screamed, I’m an overcompensating asshole, get out of my way! I fiddled nervously with the seatbelt, distracted by the view.

Tobin straightened to his full, sexy height and strode to my door, wearing another drool worthy outfit. Yummy. A black t-shirt and blue jeans that hugged his muscles nicely. Sooo nicely. Strong arms reached out, opening the door. I was mesmerized by the rippling muscles and forgot how to move.

“Here, let me help you with that.” he said.

Before I could wipe the drool from my chin, Tobin took the Tor and cradled it under his arm protectively. A large bicep eclipsed it from view. Mmmmmm biceps. He reached for me with his other hand and effortlessly pulled me from the car, cradling my waist just as possessively. The intimate position stirred something deep inside me, causing me to blush. I looked down, unable to withstand the raw desire I saw radiating from his eyes. A minute later, I was still waiting to be released. But was I really?

A door slammed, reminding me we weren’t alone. Owen grabbed the bag of burgers and fries from the backseat and walked around the car to meet us. “Hey Tobin!” He interrupted the awkward scene by placing his arm around my shoulder “We got lunch.” Owen held the brown bag up as proof.

I stepped back from the muscle-headed preschoolers, afraid of becoming the shiny new toy they were prepared to fight over. Okay, boys. Put 'em away. Or not… and let me play with them.

“Nice car.” I motioned awkwardly to the mass of polished chrome and paint shimmering in the afternoon sun. “I figured you were a truck guy.” Tobin looked over at the car he was previously leaning against, and silently shrugged.

“Great, I’m starving,” Tobin said while we walked up the sidewalk. I was struggling to control my raging hormones, but Tobin on the other hand, seemed unaffected by our previous encounter. How does he go from hot to cold so easily?

“Everything work out ok?” Owen asked Tobin. I was intrigued with his question, and tried to listen while I unlocked the apartment door.

“As much as can be expected,” Tobin replied, cryptically, eyeing me as I stepped inside the apartment and turned on the light. Why couldn’t he just say it? Whatever it was?

“I see you two have been productive.” Tobin said, looking down at me with a half smile. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. Those cold, calculating eyes.

I turned away from him, and walked towards the dining room, intent on putting distance between us. Owen walked past me carrying the burgers and fries, wearing a big dimply smile. I couldn’t help but smile back at him. His adorable hotness helped buffer Tobin’s alkaline demeanor.

Owen called out from the dining room, “It’s called dinner and a show guys. We eat first.”

We each grabbed a burger and a container of fries. Just as I was sitting down at the table, Tobin walked by and stole one of my fries.

“Hey, that’s mine!” I swatted at him.

He smiled back devilishly, rounded the corner, and sat down across from me. I glared at him as he smiled a real smile that reached all the way up to his eyes. He seemed happy, truly happy. I was distracted by the contrasting softness in his eyes, not the hardness I’ve come to expect. Specks of gold permeated his iris, reflecting the dining room light. I felt at ease around him for the first time, like we had been friends forever. Weird...

Owen took the seat next to me, laughing, and stole one of my fries too.

Snapping out of my lecherous haze, I growled “Mine!” And threw my arms up guarding the rest of my fries. I’ll have to find another opportunity to lust after this tall, dark mystery of a sexy ass man.

“You better watch out for Tobin, he’s a french fry bandit,” Owen said, drawing my attention, while Tobin reached over and stole another fry.

“Not cool, guys! Not cool at all,” I said.

We ate our burgers in comfortable silence, guarding our fries from abduction. When I finished my burger, Owen reached out and stole one last french fry from Tobin. I laughed at their juvenile antics, and started clearing the table.

“I’m ready for the entertainment portion of the evening, gentlemen,” I called from the living room, settling into my spot on the couch. A few minutes later, Tobin walked in solemnly carrying the Tor. Where did his smile go? He placed it on the coffee table in front of me, and stepped back.

“Does this look familiar to you?” Tobin asked Owen.

Owen shook his head and stopped next to Tobin, with his hands in his pockets. A sense of seriousness shrouded his features. Not him too. What the hell is this thing? A joy zapper? I nervously glanced from the guys to the Tor. I’m not touching that thing. Thinking back, I tried to remember ever seeing it. Hesitantly, I reached for the strange wooden box, picked it up while keeping it at arm's length, and examined the sides.

“How does it open? I don’t see any hinges.” I turned the box over and held it up to the light. Tobin sat down next to me on the couch. He took the box from my hands, and placed it back on the coffee table in front of me.

“Each Tor is coded to a particular Searcher’s blood. There is a small depression here on the side,” he said, pointing out a small divot in the wood. “You place your finger in the well, and it’ll sample your blood.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

I eyed the box for a few seconds, silently weighing my options, before tentatively placing my forefinger into the space Tobin indicated. The needle pierced my finger, drawing several drops of blood which dripped into the depression.

“Ow!” Fuck! That’s one way to get tetanus. I held my finger in place not wanting to endure another poke because I fucked it up by moving too quickly or some other bullshit.

Owen leaned over with a shocked expression on his face. We all watched in amazement as the top slid open.

“How is this possible…” He whispered.

“I recognized it was Alexander’s Tor when I carried it in.” Tobin explained.

Nervously, I ran my fingers over the edge of the box. I was too overwhelmed to ask how I was able to open it.

“But how did she open it?” Owen asked, moving to stand closer to me. His words echoed my thoughts exactly. Yeah, that.

“Oh, that’s not too difficult to imagine,” Tobin answered softly. He placed his hand on my leg. “All Alexander would have needed to code the box to Jade would have been a bit of her blood on a rag, a small cut, a scrape, or a bloody nose would have been plenty.”

“He always carried a handkerchief.” I murmured, remembering the soft piece of cloth my dad kept folded in his pocket. Tobin nodded, tracing slow soothing circles on my leg. I looked up at Owen standing protectively by my side. He rested a hand on my shoulder and it steadied my trembling nerves. With both Tobin and Owen bolstering my courage, I reached into the Tor, and removed its contents, a solitary letter addressed to me.

For a single, fleeting moment, I flashed back to that day when I received a similar lonely envelope. My heart fluttered while my eyes watered, remembering that damn card. It hit me suddenly, like a shot, twin images overlapping. The distant past overlaid against reality. Except, they weren’t identical at all. I studied the familiar loops and swirls of the handwriting. My father’s penmanship. This is my father’s Tor... He knew I would open it one day... He coded it to me with my blood...

But where did he get the blood?

I tried to remember anything odd, anything out of place. But all I was greeted with were fond memories. The caring man who wiped at my bloody nose and scratched knees. Bloody noses! I was always getting a bloody nose when we went to the thrift stores. That must have been where he got the blood. I held the letter for several minutes, frozen in a multitude of emotions. He wanted me to find this letter.

Quietly, Tobin asked, “Do you want me to read it to you, Jade?” He continued drawing soothing circles on my thigh, and I liked it.

“No. I got it…” My voice cracked.

Owen sat down on the arm of the couch. He leaned into me slightly, lending his side for support.

I opened the envelope, and took a deep, steadying breath. I exhaled loudly, unfolded the letter, and started to read aloud.

My dearest Jade,

You must understand, I would move heaven and earth to be with you right now. Since you are reading this, you can assume I’m dead. I’m sorry for not being there for you and telling you this in person. You’ve always been special to me. My little girl. But Jade you’re actually much more than that. You’re a gifted Searcher, more powerful than I ever was. As a Searcher, you can feel energy from magical artifacts. But you can also do things other Searchers can’t.

You came into your gift very young and I’ve been teaching you all this time, while we were having fun. Do you remember the games we would play, making up stories about people in the thrift stores and diners? You were always so good at it because that’s part of your gift. Just by being close to people and focusing on them you could see part of their past and their true intentions. The stories you made up were really true.

All searchers can feel energy signatures from magical artifacts when they touch them, but you can call things to you Jade. Do you remember when you wanted a giant stuffed unicorn for your birthday? I looked everywhere, for months, and couldn’t find one. I took you to the toy store with a crisp one hundred dollar bill hoping to find something else to make you happy. In the car you said you only wanted a big unicorn for your birthday. Do you remember? When we walked into the toy store there was a brand new display full of giant stuffed unicorns. You were so happy, and I knew they weren’t there the day before.

It’s called the power of intention Jade. You may have noticed that when you think about something you really want, you’ll usually come across it. That’s what makes it easy for you to find things for your customers. Not many Searchers have this ability. It’s a true gift.

I know this sounds confusing to you. I let you believe I was an archeologist working for museums and private collectors. I was actually a Searcher working for The Guard. I could find faint energy signatures in artifacts that most Searchers missed. I don’t have the power of intention like you do.

I tried to shield you as much as I could from my life as a Searcher. I only wanted you to be happy and remember the fun times we had together. You must keep the strength of your gifts hidden. Searchers are born not made, and I can only imagine The Guard will question whether you inherited my gift or not.

Don’t let anyone know what you can do Jade. Your gifts are very special and dangerous. Some people will want to use you for evil. They will come for you. There are evil people everywhere, even in The Guard. Use your gift to see their true intentions and be careful who you trust.

I love you more than life itself Jade.

Dad

I choked back a sob that got stuck in my throat. Tobin’s hand on my leg and Owen’s hand on my shoulder grounded me from the warring emotions that threatened to break free: immense sadness, anger, love, and acceptance. I’m a Searcher like my dad. I’m not a thrifter, junker, or reseller. I’m not an antique hunter either. And apparently, I’m more powerful than most of the Searchers The Guard employs. I’m in danger and I don't know whom to trust. Well…

Fuuuuuck!

Tobin cleared his throat before whispering softly, “Jade I’ve always known you were a Searcher. I was one of your father’s personal guards. He talked about you a lot.”

I looked up into his sad eyes, feeling the sincerity in his statement. A subdued “Thank you,” was all I could manage. I was barely holding myself together.

Owen kneeled down in front of me. All traces of his boyish charm were shrouded beneath a mask of seriousness. “We’re here for you Jade. Tobin and I will keep you safe.”

I could only nod, tears threatening to spill. “How do you think the Tor ended up at the thrift store?” I asked to no one in particular?

“Someone must have donated it,” Tobin said gently. “And the necklace too. Alexander must have had the necklace stashed away when he died.”

There’s only one person I know who is spiteful enough to donate a box of my dad’s stuff. I wondered what else he had stashed away in his study. At my mother’s house, a place I wouldn’t necessarily call home.

“I know what we need to do,” I said with dismay.

Owen looked at me solemnly. “What’s that?”

“We have to seek an audience with my mother.” I groaned. My body and spirit protested loudly.

I know I should’ve used the expensive stationary with the gaudy gold monogramming I got for Christmas and had the letter hand delivered, per my mother’s predelictions, but fuck it. I grabbed my phone and texted as formal a request as I could muster to my mother’s phone number. I’m sure it will piss her off. She’ll just have to get over my pedestrian ways.

I request an audience with you at the Adelaide Manor at your earliest convenience

I hit send.

And now we wait…