Transcendence Read Online Free Page B

get that tea,” Griffon says. “Otherwise Dad’ll have my hide for not being a proper host.”
    “I don’t really think that tea will help—” I begin.
    “Of course it won’t.” Griffon stands up. “But the English believe that tea cures everything, so humor him.”
    I get the sense that he’s only doing his duty, and I want to let him off the hook. How many crazy tourists does he run into every day? Okay, maybe not
literally
, but I’m sure he has better things to do than play tour guide. “Kat really wants to see the Crown Jewels,” I say, glancing toward the building. A quick trip to see the Jewels, and then I can go back to the hotel, lock the bathroom door, and lose it for real. I can probably keep it together that long. “Might as well get it over with.”
    “The last thing you need is to stand in a stifling queue,” he says. He looks over at the growing line. “And it’s not going to get any better than this for the rest of the day.”
    Owen looks at me. “Tell you what. If you really don’t care”—he turns to Kat—“and you really don’t mind, then why don’t I give you my famous tour of the Jewels, and Griffon can take your sister to the café right on the other side of the White Tower? We’ll meet them there when we’re done.”
    Kat shifts her weight on the high heels that look so out of place, not to mention uncomfortable. “Are you sure you don’t mind?” she asks me, glancing meaningfully at Owen.
    I hesitate. She’d never forgive me if I took this opportunity away from her. “I don’t if you don’t.”
    “Great. We’ll meet you at the café as soon as we’re done.” She barely gets the words out before she’s wobbling across the cobblestones, walking so close to Owen that I think she’s going to knock him over. He reaches out to catch her and then leaves his hand on her arm as they continue walking. I suddenly see why Kat insists on wearing totally impractical shoes all the time.
    “You sure you’re okay?” Griffon asks as soon as we’re alone.
    “I’m fine. Really.” At least my stomach has finally stopped churning.
    “Right. I’ll stop asking. The Armouries Café is right in that building over there,” he says. We walk a little way in silence, but I notice more than a few guards grinning at him as we pass. My mind is racing, but I can’t seem to think of a single thing to say.
    “Two truths and a lie,” Griffon says suddenly, turning to look at me.
    “Two what?” I have no idea what he’s talking about.
    “Truths. And a lie. You tell me two things that are true and one that is a lie, and I have to guess which is which.”
    “Sort of like Truth or Dare?”
    “Right. But instead of a dare, give me a lie. But make it a good one. Something believable.”
    I think for a second, but my mind is a total blank. I can’t think of a single thing about me, true or not. “You first,” I say, trying to buy some time to come up with something that might make me sound interesting and a little mysterious.
    “Okay,” he says. “Um … I’ve had dinner with Oprah Winfrey.”
    I watch him carefully, but I don’t see anything, no matter how unbelievable this sounds. There’s no way I can tell him that I can pretty much always tell when people are lying. There’s something in their eyes or the way they move when they’re talking that always gives it away.
    “My favorite food is peanut butter,” he continues, and in a split second I see it. A brief twitch of his mouth that tells me this is the lie. “And I have a tattoo.”
    “So you’re probably not going to order peanut butter and jelly for lunch.”
    He stares at me and breaks into a big grin. “Right! I hate peanut butter. How did you know?”
    I shrug. “Lucky guess.”
    “If you say so,” he says skeptically.
    “So you really did have dinner with Oprah?”
    “I really did. Do you want to see my tattoo?”
    If he’s offering, I’m assuming it’s in a public-friendly place.