Chapter 8 Best Laid Plans
BEST LAID PLANS
ELIJAH
Atticus is ready.
We just need Sev and Aurora now, but they're still in his room, laughing like a pair of teenagers while his speaker plays in the background, drowning out their conversation.
Atticus exits the kitchen, muttering something to himself as he comes into the living room, where I sit with my tea and phone.
I'll have to finish reading up on how the préfecture de police in Paris still has no leads on who stole the Van Gogh from La Tante Sophistiquée later.
"Would you go get them?" he snaps. "I was hoping we could get things moving today, but it's almost noon."
I guess he's finished cleaning up Sev's mess in the kitchen.
From the look of it, he made himself and Aurora his famous pussy waffles earlier this morning.
He bought the crude waffle iron last time we were in Australia, and he busts it out anytime he's feeling nostalgic for the good time we had there.
Fuck, we were just kids then. I was barely twenty. Mom was still alive. We had the world at our fingertips.
It was one of the last trips we had before everything went to shit.
I make no secret of my annoyance as I set my phone and empty cup down on the side table and stretch out the ache in my hand from holding it in the same position for a bit too long.
"He would've cleaned it up himself, you know," I point out. "The kitchen. Not everyone feels the need to clean up after every mess they make on the spot. Some people like to enjoy their mornings before adulting."
He says nothing, but the tension in his jaw tells me he's unimpressed with me bringing up the old argument.
I sigh, reining in my frustration. My fuse where Atticus is concerned is shorter than usual, but his lack of patience is what got him in this mess in the first place.
"Sorry," he grumbles, working his jaw, and I know it's not just that he's eager to get this plan in motion, he's buzzing with anticipation about being able to speak to her. "I—"
"I'll get them," I interrupt. "But you need to calm down."
Atticus nods tersely and heads for the library as I climb the stairs and rap twice on Sev's door.
"Who is it?" he calls.
"Eli."
"Come in, man."
I'm greeted with the scents of waffle, honey, and sex as I step inside.
Aurora lies back against Sev's headboard, twisting the pin on a gilt music box Sev stole from the collection of a member of the British royal family.
"Morning," she says in greeting, watching the little ballerina inside the box twirl as the tinny music plays.
"Morning, Angel." I cough to clear my throat. "Atticus is ready to go over everything. Sounds like he was hoping to actually put a few pieces on the board today, so…"
Her face falls, but she picks it back up, giving me a strained replica of a smile. "Right, I'll go get dressed."
As she crawls from the bed, I notice the white bandage on her stomach and my own drops.
I rush over, pushing the fabric out of the way, gripping her waist, checking the rest of her abdomen for signs of injury. "What happened?"
"What?"
"What happened?" I repeat. "Did you burn yourself out at the gravesite?"
She laughs and covers my hand with hers, luring me to meet her eyes.
"No," she says, elongating the word with a look that tells me I'm definitely overreacting. "Seven gave me a piercing."
I reel back, relieved, but also irrationally angry that he went anywhere near her with a sharp object.
"Oh."
Sev pulls on a pair of jeans, giving me a smirk as he does them up and wanders into his closet for a clean shirt.
"I'm fine," she reiterates, and I realize I still haven't let her go, and straighten up.
"Sorry, I—"
She shuts me up with a quick, chaste kiss.
"I know," she whispers against my lips as Seven comes out with a pair of gray sweats and a matching T-shirt in his hands.
"Wear these for now."
He hands the pile to Aurora.
"I'll be swimming in them."
"There's a drawstring," Sev counters, and Aurora scoffs, but steps into the massively oversized sweats, and pulls the T-shirt over her bare breasts nonetheless.
"I'm wearing a circus tent," she declares when she's finished, trying to tuck part of the shirt into the twice-rolled waistband of the sweats.
I pull her to me, stopping her from picking at the outfit. It's not like she has anyone here she needs to impress. "Then you must be the main act."
She snorts.
"She's a pretty good contortionist," Seven offers, coming up behind her to grip her waist and lean into her side, whispering into her ear, "Aren't you, Ro?"
She melts between us, her hands snaking up my chest through my shirt, and it would be so easy to close the door and…
I groan, clenching my teeth as I pull away, cursing Atty with every inch of space I force between us. We haven't shared since the plane, and I have to admit, I'd be down for a round two, maybe minus the being thirty thousand feet in the air part.
"We should head down before Atticus loses his shit."
Aurora pouts, deflating.
"Fine. Lead the way."
The difference in my angel's vibe as she follows me through the house is so glaring it should have a physical sensation. Like a temperature drop or the zap of an EMF reader on one of those ghost-hunting shows Sev used to watch when we were kids.
I take her hand. I know it's not to do with what we're about to set in motion—she's been anxious to get started—it's Atticus himself.
"You can change your mind," I offer when we get to the hallway and see the library doors are open ahead. "Sev and I can go in and get the info and pass it along—"
"No. No, that would be juvenile. I can handle him. Besides, I'm sick of waiting."
I nod, and we go in.
Atticus leans over the table in the center of the room. He's brought in one of the monitors from his office, and it glows with several open windows of images and text on an empty shelf in one of the bookcases on the left.
On the table in front of him are three files and a tray that holds several items.
When he looks up, his eyes zero in on Aurora.
"Good morning," he says in a gruff tone.
A good start.
"Or should I say, good afternoon."
The fucker can't help himself.
"Keep digging that hole, Atty," Sev says.
"We won't stop you," I add.
His nostrils flare and he drags his gaze from her back to the table, pushing off its surface to stand at his full height.
"Sorry," Atticus mumbles, and I don't think I've ever heard him say that word twice in a month, let alone in one morning. He stands straight, still. His throat bobs before he continues. "Aurora, I was hoping to—"
"Can we get to the point?"
Atticus's mouth snaps shut and his cheekbones flare.
Even I flinch at the callousness in my angel's tone, but Atticus seems only mildly offended by it. He expected this. But will he respect her request?
Atty works his jaw, as if he's chewing through at least ten different response options before he settles on, "If that's what you want."
I give him a look that conveys my approval.
His sigh is more of a soft growl as he plucks an ID card from the tray, placing it on the table to push toward Aurora.
She lifts it and I lean in to inspect the information with her. It's a student ID card for the Appalachian State University in Boone. It has her legal name on it.
"I don't even get a fake identity?" she asks with a raised brow. "And I'm a college student?"
Atty clears his throat, assembling his expression into one of professional neutrality, back in the captain's seat.
"Your legitimate history sets this up perfectly. I called in a few favors, and prior to your mother leaving you at that fire station in Bellerose, there's no trace of you. If my guy couldn't find anything, it means Ambrose's contacts won't be able to, either."
"And the university?" Seven asks, and I wonder if he's thinking the same thing I am.
If her cover is being a student there, Atticus will want her to actually be a student there. Which means she won't be here.
Irrational as I know it is, I can't help feeling he's trying to put distance between her and us.
"Aurora will be enrolled in a music production program. She'll need to attend classes and live in an apartment off campus."
She tenses next to me.
"But the term has already started, hasn't it? It's October."
Atticus nods. "You're starting in the second half of the term on Monday.
I've made the arrangements and pushed through a late scholarship approval.
You'll have a light class load, just three until the term ends in December.
From there I have you registered for a full course load, but we'll see how things go leading up to then. "
"Could this take that long?"
His eyes darken. "There's no way of knowing until we're in it. Could be weeks or months. Possibly longer."
I don't like the sound of that, but Atty and I have talked about this at length. Ambrose played the long game to gain access to my family's collection. If we want to pull one over on him and bring his empire to ruin, we'll need to get comfortable playing the long game, too.
"Aurora," Atticus continues, speaking to her directly. "You're also working online as an English tutor for a Spanish expat. That's how you afford the apartment. You'll need to log in to the video call server twice per week on this laptop to make it look legit."
He lifts a sleek black MacBook from the edge of the table and sets it in front of her.
"Didn't peg you for an Apple guy," she says with a scoff.
"I'm not," he retorts. "But I figured since you have an iPhone…"
She doesn't thank him.
"You've been tutoring this individual—Alfie—since you left Amherst. I've adjusted things to make it appear that way online."
He drops a file in front of her and opens the flap to reveal the information for her classes at the university.
Aurora blinks at it, running her fingertip over the class name with the ghost of a smile on her lips.
It's the one she lied about being accepted into when she left Jesse and needed to tell her adoptive dad where she was headed.