Chapter 21
Twenty-One
Elodie
The cherry blossom tree down the block from Cole and Asher’s house is in full bloom now. As I pass by, the flowers’ delicately sweet scent fills my lungs.
A surge of melancholy chases after the fragrance.
This is a different world, one where I never stood under that tree exchanging a few final words with my best friend before he headed home. A world where I never knew Asher well enough to have ended up stealing his life with my glim.
And I’m going to keep it that way.
As I climb the creaky steps to the porch, needles of apprehension creep up my back. This is the closest I’ve ever gotten to the Raith house before. The first time I’ll ever go inside.
Funny that my first visit isn’t happening because either of the brothers actually wants me here but to keep the bonds between us hidden.
I push through my instinctive hesitation to knock. Cole opens the door within seconds, dressed in an immaculate button-up and slacks even on his day off, and ushers me in with a wary glance over my head toward the street beyond.
He suggested that we start meeting at his home rather than his office so there was less chance of anyone noticing.
It makes sense, but I’m surprised he’s willing to let any of us into his and Asher’s private abode.
He turned down Salvatore’s offer of using the downtown condo with a caustic remark about preferring not to put his trust in known criminals.
As I step into the living room I’ve never seen before with its own all-too-familiar scents, Salvatore bounds over to wrap me up in a firm embrace. His darkly musky essence mingles with the sharp, piney notes I know are Cole’s and the warm amber that’s Asher’s.
My throat constricts all over again.
“About time,” Salvatore says in a buoyantly heckling tone. “If I had to spend much longer with just these void-heads for company, I’d have been ready to snuff myself.”
I shift my elbow backward to poke him in the gut. “Play nice with my other matches.”
He lets out a huff that’s only mildly disgruntled.
Cole has taken up his usual glower, which I can’t totally blame him for this once. Asher stands awkwardly at the other end of the room, raking a hand through his fawn-brown hair.
As always, looking at him dredges up a torrent of memories I’d rather tune out. I jerk my gaze away to take in the living room around us.
It’s barely big enough to hold the threadbare sofa, the narrow console table with its TV that’s maybe a quarter the size of the one in the Devine’s TV nook, and the four of us.
Through the doorway beyond Asher, I make out the yellow cabinets of the kitchen and the two-seater table I saw him and his brother eating at when I peeked in on them weeks ago.
Cole’s office at the academy might be less discreet, but it gives us a little more room to congregate.
How absurd is it that our prestigious school doesn’t pay their professors enough to afford them a home more comfortable than their workspace?
At another knock, Cole snatches at the door. Salvatore leans in to kiss my cheek just as Byron strides into the house.
The sight of the man I was so intimately entwined with yesterday brings a giddy flutter into my chest. Byron’s dark gaze takes in me in Salvatore’s arms, and a little of yesterday’s heat flares in his eyes.
Cole answers the question of space with a sweep of his arm. “Now that we’re all here, we should head to the basement. It’ll be easier to guard against eavesdroppers, if any of you were followed.”
Salvatore releases me so we can tramp down a dim set of stairs into the musty, concrete-floored room below.
A paired washer and dryer squat against one wall while the furnace hums in a far corner.
The closed door off to the side must lead to Asher’s bedroom, if the brothers have laid out their two floors of the rental house the same way he told me they did in my old reality.
They’ve arranged five mismatched chairs in a circle in the middle of the space, which is probably the biggest open area in the whole building. Cole tips his head toward them.
Before I can move, Byron slips his arm around my waist. He offers a gentle nuzzle and a peck to my temple that has my heart skipping a beat.
And not just because of the pleasure his affection brings. Professor Raith’s stance goes rigid, and then his eyes narrow with obvious understanding.
His voice comes out harsh. “You activated his glim? What the fuck were you thinking? We agreed—”
Byron tenses against me, but I jump in before he has to.
“We didn’t agree—you started giving orders.
You don’t have any more authority in this union than the rest of us.
We were careful about it. The more we find out about the people we’re up against, the clearer it’s becoming that we need every advantage we can get. ”
I’m not going to mention the more personal reasons I had for waking up Byron’s full powers—or the family conflicts he told me in confidence. The soft squeeze of his fingers against my waist feels like a thank you.
“Nothing was damaged except a couple of trees, and there was no one around to see,” he says with his usual poise.
He holds out his other hand, and sparks whirl up over his palm before crackling away when he closes his fist. “I can wield electricity. There are at least a few ways that could come in handy.”
Salvatore guffaws, his gaze intent with maybe a hint of jealousy before he aims a smirk at Cole. “The professor’s just pissed that he doesn’t have his glim yet. Maybe if you showed our match the devotion she deserves…”
Cole’s jaw has clenched so hard the tendons stand out in his neck. He jerks his hand toward the chairs. “It sounds to me like I haven’t been hard enough on her. Everyone just sit down.”
I grimace at him, but we’ve got more important things to cover here instead of squabbling over what’s already done.
Byron nudges me toward a wooden chair with a padded seat that’s worn but clean, probably the most comfortable seat in the bunch. He ends up in a plastic folding chair at my left while Salvatore nabs the lawn chair at my right.
Asher sinks onto the other lawn chair next to Salvatore’s, but Cole remains on his feet, looming over the scuffed stool that’s the only chair left. I half expect him to start ranting about the disrespect of us leaving him with the least appealing seat.
His hardened eyes fix on me. I can sense, in a quiver through the connection between us and the slight flare of his pupils, that he’s taken a dose of kavish to sharpen his senses.
I cringe inwardly, his expression stirring all the insecurities it used to in his class in the years before he became my match.
His voice turns harder too, cool and flat as polished granite. “I wasn’t sure I’d need to take this step today, but it’s obvious you’re getting bolder and more careless. Not a combination I’m willing to risk when Asher and I can’t help being involved. We’re going to need some answers.”
I stare at him, my honest bewilderment mixed with a trickle of dread that winds through my stomach. “Answers about what? What are you even—”
I try to lift my arm to gesture my confusion alongside my words, and my limb jars against an invisible barrier. With a flare of panic, I push against my seat, struggling to stand.
Strands of gathered ephemera hold me in place, wrapped tight around my body. I can barely wiggle my arms against my torso. My ankles are clamped against the chair legs.
Salvatore springs up, proving the restraints are only on me.
“What the fuck are you doing to her?” he demands, flexing the muscles that bulk out his massive frame. Cole has a couple of inches on him in height, but there’s no mistaking who’s the real heavyweight here.
The mafia heir takes a threatening step toward the professor, and Cole holds up a hand to stop him. “I can bind you too if I have to. She’s been lying to us. Hiding things. Pretending to know less than she does. Don’t you want to know why?”
Shit on a shunoban. Is this because I let him tag along on Wednesday’s scouting mission?
What exactly has he figured out?
All of my matches are on their feet now, where I’d like to be too if I could move.
Byron frowns at Cole, his stance nearly as imposing as Salvatore’s. He might not have gone the fighting club route, but he’s no slouch on the mats. “You can’t treat her like this. If you have questions about something Elodie’s done, we can talk it out without tying her up.”
Asher’s face pales as he gapes at his brother. “Cole, let her go.”
The professor shakes his head. “You have to understand. We’ve spent all this time worrying about how dangerous the people after Elodie might be, but not enough time wondering whether she’s dangerous too.”
Salvatore lets out a growl of frustration. “You’re the one who’s in danger right now.”
He throws himself forward without warning—but Cole was smart enough to prepare. The mafia heir slams into a magical barrier a few feet before he could even touch the man he meant to tackle.
He might be the best in the academy at magical combat, but Cole has eight years more experience and wunderkind levels of general skill.
Cole obviously doesn’t trust his magic to hold up against an intensive barrage for long.
He speaks in a swift, clipped tone. “There’s been a significant shift in her ephemera for weeks now.
She’s shown new abilities—in combat, in shielding—that seem to have come out of nowhere.
She recognized that she was poisoned and took steps to throw up before the toxin fully took hold.
She’s chasing leads around the city that obviously mean more to her than she’s letting on, and she’s activating glims without caring about the consequences. ”
His list of oddities draws even Salvatore up short. “What’s that supposed to mean, what you said about the poison?”