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It was only half a compliment, but I deserved no more. I understood now the mistakes and<br />
lapses of judgment that had led to the events at Isaiah's house. Some had been my fault; some<br />
hadn't. I wished I could have changed some of my actions, but I knew she was right. I'd done<br />
the best I could in the end with the mess before me.<br />
"Killing Strigoi wasn't as glamorous as I thought it'd be," I told her.<br />
She gave me a sad smile. "No. It never is."<br />
I thought then about all the marks on her neck, all the kills. I shuddered.<br />
"Oh, hey." Eager to change the subject, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the little blue<br />
eye pendant she'd given me. "This thing you gave me. It's a n-nazari" I stumbled over the word.<br />
She looked surprised.<br />
"Yes. How'd you know?"<br />
I didn't want to explain my dreams with Adrian. "Someone told me. It's a protection thing,<br />
right?"<br />
A pensive look crossed her face, and then she exhaled and nodded. "Yes. It comes from an old<br />
superstition in the Middle East…Some people believe that those who want to hurt you can<br />
curse you or give you 'the evil eye.' The nazar is meant to counteract the evil eye … and just<br />
bring protection in general to those who wear it."<br />
I ran my fingers over the piece of glass. "Middle East…so, places sort of like, um, Turkey?"<br />
My mother's lips quirked. "Places exactly like Turkey." She hesitated. "It was … a gift. A gift I<br />
received a long time ago …" Her gaze turned inward, lost in memory. "I got a lot of …<br />
attention from men when I was your age. Attention that seemed flattering at first but wasn't in<br />
the end. It's hard to tell the difference sometimes, between what's real affection and what's<br />
someone wanting to take advantage of you. But when you feel the real thing…well, you'll<br />
know."<br />
I understood then why she was so overprotective about my reputation—she'd endangered her<br />
own when she was younger. Maybe more than that had been damaged.
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