Chapter 18 #2
She looked down and gasped. Her palms were illuminated, golden beneath her skin and shadowed where her veins crisscrossed her muscles.
That day at Bancroft, a brightness had consumed her vision before she’d stopped that soccer ball from slamming into her face—before she had stopped it, with magic.
Now her hands were drawing on some well of power that pushed back the dark.
Her weakness had converted into a sudden strength, and she was not going to ignore this gift.
Ellory scrambled to her feet, afraid that the light would be extinguished if she looked again.
Not only was it still there, but a sphere of it also rose from the center of her palm to hover like a firefly.
Mouth trembling, Ellory called another and another and another until she was surrounded by these tiny rays, until the light in her hands had transformed into an undulating wave of glowing bubbles.
I need to get out of here, she thought.
And the lights obeyed.
They surged into the trees, creating a shimmering path for Ellory to follow.
The layout of the orchard had changed into a maze.
Instead of neat rows of trees separating paths for visitors to walk along, she was tearing through a forest of identical trunks and emaciated branches.
She realized she had left her apples behind and hoped, with a spike of fear, that these lights were leading her to safety instead of death.
The trees that should have borne fruit were empty, and she could feel eyes watching her from the underbrush.
And then: “Morgan!”
That distant call.
“Morgan!”
Ahead, an aggressive rustling, heavy footfalls.
“Morgan!”
She started running. Her foot caught a root, and her arms windmilled to keep her body from toppling over.
The swarming trees shifted around her, widening until a path formed.
She could see Hudson Graves, his flashlight pointed in her direction, his voice shouting her name.
Her summoned phosphorescence traced him for a moment before disappearing as though they had never existed.
Ellory locked eyes with Hudson, hers wide and his wider.
Her feet swallowed the distance between them in seconds.
“Ellory,” said Hudson. His hands gripped her shaking shoulders, his flashlight now rolling in the grass at their feet. “Where the hell have you been?”
“I—”
“Are you hurt?”
He pulled off his peacoat and wrapped her in it.
His eyes were midnight black as they searched her face.
His hands were everywhere, gloved fingers brushing protectively over her body, looking for wounds internal and external.
Every touch ignited a bonfire of sensation, a comforting and familiar warmth.
You just want to get your hands all over me.
That’s not the only thing I want.
Ellory’s breath caught, their voices ringing in her ears.
Echoes of a conversation they’d never had.
Only Hudson kept her grounded in the present.
His coat smelled like shea butter and bergamot, a scent that was becoming increasingly familiar.
His hands were now on her collarbones, where he’d fastened the first button over her frigid skin.
He stared at her, stared through her, and the absurdity and terror of the last few hours hit her all at once.
She could have died in there, wherever there was, and she had no idea if they would have found her.
She felt dizzy, detached, like her body was a puppet and she was absently tugging the strings for movement.
She could have died. That disorienting magic could have killed her if she hadn’t found her own.
Someone wanted her dead.
Cold seeped through her. She gripped Hudson’s wrists, blinking back tears. “It was—I saw—someone attacked me again—”
“Okay, okay,” Hudson murmured. “Tell me about it while I walk you back. Your boyfriend is worried.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” said Ellory, automatically.
Hudson’s arm wrapped around her shoulders, tugging her close to his heat.
She shivered her way through the story as he led them back to the orchard.
With Hudson at her side, it was an orchard again.
Apples dangled from branches. Nighttime sounds—crickets and frogs, owls and cats—filled the pauses between her words.
Grass whispered beneath their feet, no longer dry and dead.
They crossed the tree line to a clear path that led back to the fence, where Liam and Boone were waiting with their own flashlights.
Boone had his free hand on Liam’s arm, as if he’d been holding Liam back for as long as he could, and Ellory swallowed.
She didn’t consider Liam her boyfriend, but that didn’t mean she wanted to worry him.
Especially not over something she couldn’t explain.
Hudson squeezed her shoulder, voice low enough for only Ellory to hear. “I’ll look into the Old Masters as soon as I can. Everything is going to be okay, Morgan. I swear it.”
She didn’t believe him, couldn’t believe him after the last few days, but there was no time for further conversation. Liam was already in front of her, his expression twisted with guilt.
“I should never have left you alone. I’m so sorry, Ellory.”
“No, I—no.” Ellory put some distance between herself and Hudson, curling her fingers into the inside of his coat as if that would stop them from shaking. “I should have waited. Anyway, I’m fine. I’m just mad I lost my phone.”
Liam looked like he wanted to ask several more questions, but all he said was “Let’s get you home.”
Ellory let him take her to the parking lot with a hand on the small of her back.
Boone fell into step behind them, silent as a wraith.
She didn’t hear Hudson, but she could feel his gaze searing into the back of her head.
She burrowed deeper into his peacoat, hoping its smell would stave off the panic that still hovered at the edge of her awareness.
She glanced back at the orchard. An owl perched on the topmost rail of the fence.
Its unblinking eyes gleamed like ghost candles.
Behind it, the orchard slumbered, pretending that it had never tried to swallow her whole.
The owl’s head turned, spectral slow, its neck folds and jutting feathers making it look twice its size.
Its talons gripped the fence so tightly that she could almost hear the wood crack, and its eyes, those bulbous fucking eyes, tracked her every move.
Ellory watched the owl and the owl watched her, and though she was too far away to hear anything at all, its cry echoed in her head like a corpse bell.