Chapter 4 #2
In my daze, I’ve been gaping at Asher. My eyes have started to burn.
And the boy who was once my only friend is pausing just a few paces away, gazing back at me with his brow knitting.
My palm stings beneath my glove, where my bond mark used to be. A hook in my heart tugs me toward him—
I stiffen my legs before they can move.
No. No. Fuck.
Of course he’s still alive. In this reality, we’ve probably never even spoken to each other. Because Other Elodie would obviously never have given a charity case anything but a sneer.
I can’t risk him shaking up my mission here. Can’t risk me shaking up his life any way at all.
I already destroyed him once. I’m not going through that all over again.
Which means I need him to keep his distance.
A light but caustic remark lilts off my tongue much too easily after a weekend of studying my snooty doppelganger. “Stare any longer and I’ll have to start charging.”
Asher’s expression twitches, not quite a flinch. Salvatore was right—there wasn’t much that he let get to him, outwardly at least.
He turns away, and so do I, just as a playful arm slips around mine.
“There you are, girlie!” Mia Somerset grins up at me, her tiny frame making even my five-foot-four feel tall. “Busy weekend? I didn’t hear from you at all.”
A more statuesque woman walks over to us with a gracefully athletic gait. “Yes, you have been suspiciously quiet.” She raises a teasing eyebrow.
It’s Stella Kingsley, the classmate who showed up in Other Elodie’s videos the most alongside the twins and Cadance Hathaway. I only have vague memories of Stella from my own existence, but this version of her wears her light auburn hair tied back like mine does, today in an artfully messy braid.
I don’t think the other Stella ever took any direct shots at me, but the Kingsleys are up there with the Devines in prominence. She definitely never smiled at me like she is now. She probably never met my eyes other than to look down her nose.
While I was still prepping myself for this role, I didn’t dare jump into the group text thread the five friends had going. Now, I give them a sheepish smile of my own. “I was busy, but nothing all that interesting. Family stuff, you know?”
For good measure, I add a roll of my eyes that I practiced yesterday until my eyeballs were ready to fall out.
Madison saunters over and leans in to rest her chin on her twin’s shoulder. “Are we going inside or what? The humidity is killing my hair.” She tugs at a strand of her bob with a frown.
“Like you’ve got enough hair to worry,” Cadance retorts as she arrives. She primps her loose ringlets, which look artfully coiffed to me, and sighs.
Over the weekend, I found the easiest way to offset my anxiety about this meet-up was to think of Other Elodie’s besties not as mean girls who’ll be scrutinizing my every word, but as a pack of dogs I need to corral like my double did.
Elegant Stella would obviously be an Irish Setter.
Cadance is pure pretentious poodle. The twins are nearly the same breed, though Mia’s more of a chipper Yorkie type and Madison a sturdier Border Terrier.
Put on a confident front while stroking their egos, and I’ll master them just fine.
I go with the flow, letting the four of them herd me into Thesan Hall. It’s the larger of the two academic buildings dedicated to senior classes, named after a deity of light like every other structure on campus to fit the Luminary theme.
My performance must pass the smell test, because the other girls chatter on around me without any sign of sensing a change. Or maybe they’re just so self-involved they wouldn’t notice if I sprouted phoenix wings.
As we amble along, I let my gaze slide over the sea of uniformed students. So far, not a single person has looked remotely surprised to see me.
Unless Other Elodie’s murderer is so emotionless that seeing their victim walking around in good health wouldn’t faze them, I don’t think my “villain” is nearby.
We walk through the arched door under Luminary’s indigo-and-gold crest: a beaming sun surrounded by sprouting vines and topped by four stars, over the motto, ILLUMINATE TO ACHIEVE. Madison shoulders past a slender figure topped with a shock of red hair.
At the sight of him, my pulse skips a beat. It’s Kenneth Hearst, the guy who was stabbed to death the same night I nearly was. His picture appeared next to Asher’s in the news for weeks until they gave up on finding the culprit in what the reporters called “the Luminary student killings.”
But in this world, Elodie wasn’t attacked three years ago. Asher never died. I guess whoever came after Kenneth in my reality spared him too in this one.
Good for him. Even though his family is among the wealthiest in the city, he seemed like the quiet, studious type, never heckled or harassed anyone that I saw.
My friends have noticed someone else. “Hey, Worth!” Cadance calls out. “You better enjoy that top spot while you have it. You know next month Elodie’s going to knock you back down.”
My head jerks around at the name, my thoughts jumbling more as I take in what she said. The monthly school rankings for each senior grade level gleam with their enchanted glow along the polished marble wall next to the admin office.
Under Year 15, the top two ranks are:
1 – Byron Worth
2 – Elodie Devine
Holy Herakles. In this reality I’m ranked two out of my whole class? And from what Cadance said, I’ve been number one before?
I worked my butt off back home and have never cracked the top ten in my academic career.
But then, I always assumed a certain portion of the rank was based on how much the administration wants to appease our parents rather than school performance.
I haven’t gotten the impression Other Elodie spends much time on her studies.
My palm stings, and my attention snaps to the person Cadance was taunting.
The current heir to the Worth family is standing with his usual imposingly straight posture farther down the hall. His gaze settles on me without a hint of warmth, all cool darkness in a way I haven’t seen in three years.
It isn’t my Byron. I know that. This one’s kept his short coils of hair. I glimpse the gleam of a watch at his wrist that my Byron couldn’t afford anymore. The flintiness of his eyes cuts straight through me.
I still recognize so much. The slight flex of his jaw that means he’s annoyed under his disaffected facade. The trace of disdain in the curl of his lip that I’ve seen aimed at girls like Cadance but never at me before.
My heart tugs like it did with Asher, just as the man who doesn’t know he’s my match replies in a tone as coldly indifferent as his expression. “You must know you don’t stand a chance, or you wouldn’t have your friends trying to rattle me.”
Even though I’m the one he’s addressing, Cadance tenses and scoots a little behind me. If she really was a poodle, I think her tail would have dipped between her legs.
She might be willing to heckle him as a show of bravado, but she’s still nervous of the intensely controlled power the Worth family is known for. Some friend, sticking out my neck for her own clout.
Before I can respond to Byron, a brawny form I know equally well swaggers between us. “Hold on a sec.”
Salvatore flashes a grin at me that’s as sharp—and threatening—as the switchblade he keeps shoved in his back pocket and motions one broad hand toward the display. “You’d better believe I’m going to clamber over both of you void-heads. It’s just a matter of time.”
I hadn’t looked farther than my own name. There it is, right below: 3 – Salvatore Cosgrave.
I’d forgotten he used to be so high in the ranks.
After he split from his family… I don’t think pushing himself in classes mattered as much to him.
He stayed in the lower half of the top ten based on combat magic and the strength of his glim, but he and Byron never had more than a joking rivalry for the top spot.
Salvatore aims a wink and a crude gesture at me, still with that cruel smile. “Choke on my dust, oinseach.”
He lopes off with a swipe at his ruddy black hair, leaving me wondering what exactly he called me. My Salvatore offered plenty of Irish and Italian nicknames, but there’s no mistaking from his tone that this particular term was an insult.
Mia snorts, with a fluff of her pixie cut that amplifies the Yorkie impression. “He wishes. You don’t have anything to worry about from any of them.” But she follows the declaration up with a shiver that undermines it.
If the Worths are known for their immense control, the lucent mafiosos on both sides of Salvatore’s family tree have a reputation for their lack of it—and the chaos they’re happy to conjure instead.
I grope for the fraying thread of my own self-control, fighting past the tearing sensation in my chest. What would Other Elodie do?
She’d scoff and say, “I’ve already stopped thinking about either of them.” So I go with that.
But as we head toward the classrooms, my insides tie into a string of knots.
It’s not as if my two high-ranking matches were always sweet to me. I experienced plenty of Byron’s domineering chill and Salvatore’s cocky crudeness after I started at the academy. They said lots worse in the years before our bond sparked.
It’s just that it’s been years since I had to face their harsher attitudes. I’ve gotten used to their protective and tender sides.
When it comes to those two, the defenses I spent so many years building have long since crumbled.
I’ll have to try to rebuild my inner walls. Because if I break under pressure, I might never get back to the versions of those men who own my heart.