Chapter 9
Nine
Elodie
I’d imagine Other Elodie has visited the Hearsts’ home at least a few times. The upper-crust lucent families socialize amongst themselves regularly, maintaining the game of ladder-climbing and shifting alliances.
But I had no part in that life in my original reality, where I was seen as nothing but an interloping mutt by my classmates. This is the first time I’ve stood outside the sprawling brick mansion.
Even wrapped in a layer of concealing ephemera, I hesitate to walk all the way up to the broad beige face. Who knows what magical security measures the Hearsts have laid down?
Instead, I slink through the front gardens at a cautious distance, stretching my awareness toward the stately building and all around me.
Will I detect more of the odd magic that was embedded in Kenneth’s clothes and Stella’s discarded pen?
If I do, what will that tell me, really?
I push the second question aside and creep a little closer to the left side of the house. I don’t know where Kenneth’s bedroom was in the building, and my divination skills aren’t strong enough to pick up on clear traces of his presence from this far away.
Where’s Cole when I need him? Not that I think Professor Raith would approve of my current activities.
Even he might not be able to sense much at this distance.
The only thing I do notice in my lurking is a tiny crystal ball fixed beneath a branch on the pine next to the house. As the crisp scent of the tree’s needles fills my lungs, I ease closer to the glinting sphere.
It’s no bigger than the tip of my pinkie, clearly designed to be discreet, but a fleck of yellow gleams in its center. My eyes widen.
It’s one of the charms the so-called “Faithful” carry around to honor our radiant ancestors who they see as gods. Most lucents scoff at the idea that we have outright divine ancestry and mockingly call those who believe it “radiators.”
Did the Hearsts set up an incredibly subtle shrine on their property because they believe the supernatural beings that once mingled with humanity were some kind of deities? Or are they hedging their bets, figuring they might as well offer a little worship just in case?
Either way, I’m not surprised they’d be too embarrassed to show any faith openly. Or maybe the charm isn’t theirs at all, although it’s hard to imagine why a radiator would have wandered into their yard and attached one to the tree.
As I retreat to the sidewalk, debating my next course of action, a trim navy-blue sports car growls by. A faint tug that shoots from my palm to my chest brings my head ticking around.
The car cruises around the corner. The windows were tinted, so I couldn’t see inside.
I’m starting to think I imagined the sensation when the vehicle reappears at the opposite end of the street. The driver must have circled the block.
And that driver is Salvatore. When he’s this close, I can recognize his distinctive brash energy in the pulse through our bond.
This time, the car eases to a stop a few houses down from the Hearsts’ and idles there. Waiting for me?
If I can sense him, he can sense me regardless of my concealing magic. What kind of a scene might he make if I try to ignore him?
It’s not as if I was getting anywhere with my inspection.
Swallowing a sigh, I tramp over to meet the car.
The door swings open right as I reach it. I drop into the front passenger seat but don’t drop my concealing magic until I’ve yanked the door closed.
“What are you doing here?” I demand.
Salvatore grins at me from behind the wheel. “Keeping an eye out for you, mia amata. What are you doing here?” He peers over his shoulder toward the house visible through the back window. “Visiting the Hearsts?”
“I didn’t talk to them. I couldn’t think of a good excuse to get into the house that might not bite me in the ass later.” I let out a huff of breath. “I just wondered if I’d pick up on anything that’d explain what he did. I didn’t. Now I should be getting home.”
“Hmm, I don’t think so. I promised you some private time.”
Salvatore plucks my satchel off my lap. Ignoring my noise of protest, he digs out my phone, flashes it toward my face to unlock it, and starts tapping on the screen.
I grab at him in a futile attempt to snatch it back. “What are you doing? You know we’re supposed to be keeping our bond a secret.”
“It’s staying perfectly secret. I’m just buying us some time.” He turns the screen back toward me. He’s texted my dad a brief message: Going out for dinner. Won’t be back too late.
“He’s going to worry,” I grumble as Salvatore taps a few more times on the phone.
He finally hands it back to me. “I’ll keep my word and have you back before it’s totally dark. He’ll think you’re out with your fancy friends. What’s safer than that?”
Not a question I necessarily want to think about given my recent suspicions.
I fold my arms over my chest. “Where are we going, then? It can’t be anywhere anyone will see us.”
“I’ve got it all worked out, a chroí.” Salvatore pulls the car away from the curb with a smooth turn of the wheel. “This isn’t my ride, just so you know. Mine is sweeter.”
“Because it matters to me so much how ‘sweet’ your car is.”
Salvatore raises his eyebrows at my sarcasm. “Because you should know I’m smart enough not to pick you up in a car that’s registered in my name. We’ve got a whole fleet that are basically anonymous.”
Oh. It is good to know he’s taking the situation at least that seriously.
After our match sparked in my reality, the only threats the other Salvatore had to worry about were paying rent and keeping bullies off my back. I haven’t really seen him in action under this kind of pressure. Of course he’d be used to covering his tracks.
A flutter of affection passes through my chest, electrifying into a bolt of heat when he reaches over to squeeze my thigh through my skirt. An uneasy mix of desire and guilt tangles low in my belly.
He wants to spend time with his match—why wouldn’t he? In a regular matching, I’d want that too. The first few months after bonding are normally full of giddy joy.
I’ve kicked off both my unions under dark clouds. My men deserved better in both realities.
I can give him some time now, because I don’t want to hurt him with an outright rejection. Then I need to get on with catching the villain plotting my murder, both so the men now bound to me won’t end up in just as much danger… and so I can figure out some kind of balance in our new normal.
Maybe I can’t offer them my whole heart when it was already claimed in a totally different universe, but there’s got to be some way I can give them a happy life. Even if it comes down to waking up their glims and then letting them walk away to other romances.
The thought of the man beside me turning to another woman sets my teeth on edge, even though technically I’ve been with three other men before I ever sparked with him. I shove aside the mess of emotions as well as I can.
We leave behind the grand homes and sprawling yards of the prime lucent neighborhood for the towering skyscrapers and crowded streets of downtown. Salvatore drums his fingers against the steering wheel as he navigates the traffic and turns into an underground parking garage.
He leads me to one of the building’s elevators but doesn’t speak until it’s carrying us up through the many floors.
“My families own a bunch of properties around the city—to rent out, to crash in, to hold business meetings or whatever. This condo is kind of a safe house. Hardly ever gets used. It’s my favorite place to hang out when I need a little space from all of them. ”
He pauses and aims an unusually determined look at me. “I don’t let them control every part of my life.”
He’s referring to my rant at him during the Blossom-Bounty social a few weeks ago, which somehow swung him from harassing me to protecting me. I guess my criticisms made an impact.
A small smile crosses my lips. “I’m glad to hear that. You shouldn’t.”
My Salvatore chose to stick with me rather than giving in to his family’s demands, and I know he hated a lot about their criminal rackets.
But he never stopped looking painfully hopeful whenever his phone rang unexpectedly, as if it might be one of his many aunts, uncles, and cousins calling to say they needed him after all.
This time I can give him a real choice. Be a match who can stand on her own rather than a tragic victim he feels obliged to shelter.
Salvatore unlocks a door next to the emergency stairs, which I guess is an ideal location if you want quick getaway options. Hopefully that feature won’t be relevant to my visit.
We step into a simple but modern-styled apartment: white walls and pale hardwood floors, sparse furniture that looks like it was all purchased from Ikea. Salvatore waves his hand toward the open-concept living-dining room. “Sit wherever you want. I promised dinner, and I’m going to deliver.”
He shoots me another grin and saunters over to the kitchen that’s more a nook than a room, next to a sliding glass door onto a narrow balcony.
I perch on the arm of the boxy sofa, not the coziest position but it means I can watch him and not be tempted to let my guard down too much. It seems wisest to fake a little confusion. “You’re cooking?”
Salvatore laughs, but his shoulders tense at the same time.
“When my parents weren’t teaching me one lesson or another, my favorite place to hang out as a kid was the kitchen.
Because there isn’t much Mom and Dad ever agree on, we had an Irish chef and an Italian one. I got a few lessons from them too.”
I didn’t want him to realize I already knew that, but I have no intention of jabbing a sore spot.
The other Salvatore was always insecure about his interest in making food after the harassment his relatives aimed at him the few times they caught him at it.
I suspect this version of him had similar experiences.
I give him my warmest grin. “Now I’m even more curious. What are you making?”