Chapter 37
Thirty-Seven
Elodie
At the end of the school day, I walk out of Thesan Hall alone, not knowing or really caring where my so-called friends are.
All the students around me probably assume I’m keeping my head down and avoiding conversation because of the rumors still circulating, but that’s not what’s whirling through my head on repeat.
Every time I close my eyes, I see the woman lying in a pool of blood. Her head rolling after Salvatore’s sword cut her down.
The two index cards I’m carrying in my satchel weigh on my shoulder. How could I even start to bring any of this crisis up with Dad?
Where the fuck is Aunt Daphne when I actually could use a little intervention?
Of course, I’m not sure I’d want to confess what happened last night to her either.
I dawdle for a few minutes on the street outside the school, the overcast sky glowering down at me and my skin itching with restlessness. Finally, I summon a ride to take me across town.
I get out down the street from Groove Garden, cast a concealment spell around me, and walk the rest of the way over.
The sight of a police car parked in the lane raises my spirits. The club isn’t open yet, and I don’t think it’d be wise to stage a breaking and entering while there are cops on the premises, so I wait outside, watching for any sign of activity.
Two officers emerge, ushered by a man who must be staff. Both cops look vaguely disgruntled.
I ease closer to their car as they head toward it.
One shakes her head at the other. “Dispatch has to do something about these worthless tips. Just a waste of time.”
“No kidding,” her partner says. “Are we supposed to be scared of a bunch of boxes of liquor bottles? Someone was probably high last night and hallucinated a delivery into something crazy.”
As they clamber into the car, I glance at the club’s black walls with a hollow in my gut.
Cole got the police involved like he promised… but it’s already too late.
Am I even surprised? With the level of coordination and secrecy this group has shown, they probably cleared every shred of evidence from the basement room and replaced their equipment with innocuous bar supplies before the sun came up. It isn’t as if they had all that much to move out.
I kick at a stray pebble, my teeth gritting. Salvatore’s gambit might still work to get Ms. Lupul away from Dad, but the bigger problem hasn’t gone anywhere.
I feel like Ariadne losing my thread in the middle of a labyrinth.
My fingers flex at my sides and find nothing to hold on to. The hollow sensation inside me expands with a searing jab of homesickness.
Of Mom-sickness, really. It’s been over a year since I last experienced one of my mother’s warm hugs even in my old reality, but I’d give just about anything to have her here with me right now.
“Chin up,” she’d say. “We’re not letting anyone stop you from becoming the bold, brilliant woman I know you’ll be, Elodie Ishani Devine.”
Would she have felt the same way if she’d known how much blood was on my hands?
I call another ride, but the ache inside compels me in a different direction from Other Elodie’s house. I find myself getting out on the strip of Little India shops just a twenty-minute walk from the apartment Mom and I lived in.
Lived in back in my original reality. She never had a home in this version of the city at all, at least not with me. She died back in Paris.
Swallowing against the lump in my throat, I meander along the sidewalk.
A buoyant Indi-pop song peals from a clothing shop with elaborately embroidered saris in the window. A stall offering barbequed corn-on-the-cob wafts a smoky-sweet scent. A trio of kids with skin just a couple of shades darker than mine shout in delight as they bound past the storefronts.
So many afternoons, I wandered down here after school while waiting for Mom to get home from work. I peered at every store display and sniffed every cannister of spices and tea, searching for traces of her history. Studied every passerby’s face for a hint of resemblance.
Where exactly would she have fit in, if she hadn’t cut herself off from her family—or them from her, whichever’s the case? Could some of that family still be around here?
In my old world at least, both Mom and my uncle had settled in this city. Is it possible their parents, or maybe grandparents or aunts and uncles, lived nearby? Maybe in one of the smaller towns not too far out?
I’ve never stumbled on them. Singh is way too common a last name to narrow it down.
And what could they really do for me anyway? They’re strangers—strangers Mom wanted nothing to do with.
She’s the one I miss… and the only one I definitely can’t have.
Surrounded by familiar sights that aren’t really mine only drags me deeper into melancholy.
I slip into a restaurant with the same name as one I knew but a differently styled sign, and come out with an order of pakoras that are a little crispier and tamarind chutney that’s slightly less tangy.
I only manage to eat a few before my stomach balks.
Then I turn a corner, debating whether I should just go home—to the home that’s not really mine either—and see Byron striding down the street toward me.
When our gazes lock, he halts in his tracks. I gape at him, too startled to control my reaction.
He closes the distance between us with several swift paces and grasps my elbow. A quiver of ephemera shields us from further view.
“What are you doing here?” I demand.
His mouth slants at a sheepish angle. “I—I was worried about you after last night. I could tell after school that you’d headed in a different direction from home… so I wanted to make sure you were all right and not in trouble again.”
My shock smooths out with a pleased glow in my chest. I recover my humor enough to tease him. “You’re picking up Salvatore’s stalker habits.”
Byron makes a face at me, but he doesn’t argue. “If there’s one thing I’ll give Cosgrave credit for, it’s that he’s totally committed to protecting you.”
But Tore isn’t the one who tracked me down this afternoon. Byron cared enough to follow my trail across the city.
He glances around us. “What are you doing out here? Did you find out something else about that Gwyn woman or the rest of her group?”
I shake my head quickly before he can hassle me about going off investigating on my own.
“No. This is just… My mom always kept very quiet about her family background, but from her name and looks and a few other details, I know she was South Asian. I used to come here and try to find things she might like that would prompt her to open up more… Not that my stealthy plans ever worked. I was missing her today. But coming didn’t help after all. ”
Byron strokes his hand up to my shoulder and back down in a reassuring caress. “You left her behind in your old reality too?”
“No. She died almost a year and a half ago. Liver cancer—it spread fast. We only had a few months after she was diagnosed.”
My voice wobbles with those last words, and Byron tugs me right into his arms. He ducks his head close to mine. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s no one’s fault. There was nothing even the lucent doctors could do.”
“Not just for that.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “I’m sorry I got caught up in arguing with the other guys last night. We should have been focused on you, not sniping at each other.”
Guilt squeezes my heart. “I know it hasn’t been an easy situation for anyone.”
“You much more than us.”
Will that still be true when our union becomes public?
The thought of the misfortunes the other Byron faced tightens clammy fingers around my gut.
I pull back to look up into his face. “There could be a lot more trouble coming even after I’m out of danger of murder.
Are your parents really going to be happy about you having a match with a questionable family history?
I don’t know enough about my mom’s side to say what they were like, but my dad’s parents didn’t approve. ”
Will Byron’s, even with my confirmed Devine heritage in the mix?
Byron lets out a soft chuckle. “Honestly… knowing a little more about your mother will probably be a good thing. Did the other me ever tell you the Worth policy on matches?”
I wrinkle my forehead. “Not that I remember.” There wasn’t much to explain about why they’d disapprove of him being matched to an outcast with unknown, undignified origins.
He tucks his arm around mine and guides me in a stroll past the shops.
“Apparently my great-great-great-grandfather’s sister sparked her match with a white man, who rejected her so callously she killed herself.
Since then… Black, brown, Asian, Native—that’s all fine.
My second father’s background is Bolivian.
I’ve got an uncle who’s Vietnamese and a great-aunt who’s only Ethiopian on one side.
But fully white… when that’s happened again, the Worth involved refused the match.
It’s been a few generations since the last time. We figure Fate got with the program.”
“Oh.” The clammy sensation turns chillier. “Then at first… When you only knew about me as a Devine…”
Byron’s voice tightens. “I wasn’t looking forward to telling them.
There would have been pushback. But I figured it was time to give it a chance.
That Fate wouldn’t have given me a match like this, with such a large union, if it wasn’t for the best. But it turns out it wasn’t going against our policy after all. ”
He offers me a wry smile that I find myself returning. Behind it, my gut stays knotted.
“Will your family accept that you’re not the core of your union?” I ask. “In… in my old reality, they insisted you reject the match partly so you could stay on as the heir to the Worth name. When you stuck with me, they disowned you. Left you with nothing.”
Byron’s eyes widen. “I hope my versions of my parents are more generous than that. But—you said you were seventeen when you sparked that first match?”
I nod.
He squeezes my hand. “That’s partly why it went so badly.
I got full access to several accounts and investments in my name when I turned eighteen.
Even if they pitch a fit and kick me out of the family, I’ve got plenty of my own resources now.
It won’t be enjoyable having them turn their backs on me…
but even if it comes to that, you don’t have to worry about how I’ll get by. ”
I don’t like the thread of pain that winds through his voice when he talks about losing his family’s support, but the knowledge that he won’t be left penniless brings a whiff of relief.
He wouldn’t be left squeezing in whatever work he could get around classes and sacrificing every comfort just to cover his Luminary tuition.
Even I have far more resources here than I did before. It’s not as if Other Elodie will be using her bank balance.
Byron takes in the colorful storefronts, a smile returning to his face. “What’s your favorite part of this neighborhood—or the closest equivalent to the one you knew? Give me a little more of the Elodie experience.”
My own lips curve upward, but my heart still feels heavy. There are so many other downsides to our match… The clash between our glim types, the way the union would tie him to other families like Salvatore’s that could affect his future prospects…
I can’t bring myself to mention any of that, not when he’s working so hard to lift my spirits. Just for now, in this one way, I can give him some happiness rather than dragging him down with me.
And who says I can’t spoil my match a little after all the ways he’s comforted me today?
Asher’s comment about his little “missions” weaves through my thoughts.
I tug Byron toward a shop by the corner that’s almost identical to the one in my memories. “Then we’d better head to the grocery store. I need a proper tea blend for chai—and I think I remember them carrying gummy candies in the snacks aisle, if you’re still a fan of those?”
Byron ducks his head with the same embarrassment he showed when I first uncovered his sweet tooth. I guess even if his parents aren’t the disowning sort here, they’re still the type to frown at “lower-class junk food.”
“Can’t wait to try some new flavors,” he says, leaning in to nuzzle my hair. And I try not to wonder if I’m only tangling him deeper in a mess he doesn’t deserve.