Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
Elodie
After my last class of the morning, I open my locker with a brush of my fingertips and a tingle of magic, and my gaze shoots straight to the bag hanging at the back. The bag that holds the folded pants and vest I’m going to wear to The Eclipse after school.
It’s still there, because why wouldn’t it be? I’m getting paranoid. It’s way safer bringing my outfit change with me and heading straight to the club than having to stop by the house and risking more questions from Aunt Daphne.
I toss a couple of textbooks onto the top shelf and reach to close the door. Then I pause, staring at the bottom of the locker.
A familiar orange wrapper is lying askew on the beige metal. Bending down, I pick up the packet of peanut butter cups. A sticky note flutters off—a hasty scrawl that simply says, Have a great day!
The package would have been just thin enough to squeeze through the slats in the locker door. I glance up and down the hall, but no one is looking my way. I have no idea when this mysterious gift was even left here.
Is it a gift? For all I know, Other Elodie’s murderer laced my favorite snack with arsenic.
How would anyone even know this is my favorite snack? Luck of the draw, or did my double have similar tastes despite her refined lifestyle?
Apparently she enjoyed pizza now and then, so I guess it’s not totally implausible.
No quiver of condensed ephemera radiates off the wrapper, and it’s hard to imbue food with magic for long anyway. Inorganic materials tend to hold imposed energy better. I don’t think it’s going to explode or assault me.
I hesitate and then tuck the package into my satchel. I rarely indulged in candy even in my real life after my glim activated, but I should hold on to the evidence in case it is connected to the killer somehow.
The handwriting on the note looks vaguely familiar, doesn’t it?
As I scrutinize the messy ink lines, a cheerful voice rings out beside me. “Hey, Elle, ready to grab lunch?”
I jerk my head around, crumpling the note between my fingers at the same moment. Mia beams at me in her typical cheerful way. Stella looks on from behind her with a faintly amused expression.
“We were thinking of heading off campus to try that new tapas place that opened down the street,” the taller girl puts in, tipping her head so her auburn ponytail swishes against her blazer.
Mia nods eagerly. “I heard the croquettes are amazing! Madison and Cadance are going to meet us out front.”
I step to block all view of my locker, as if my friends could tell what’s in the bag that holds my sort-of costume. The thought of being surrounded by the four of them for a whole hour while I’m scrambling to unravel this murder plot makes my stomach lurch.
“I, ah, already ate,” I say hastily. “Had a protein bar on me—not that hungry. I’ve got some research to do in the library for the Lucent History report.”
Mia deflates a bit. Stella doesn’t show any disappointment, but her bright brown gaze feels abruptly penetrating. “Are you sure? You’re not that worried about the report, are you?”
I manage to laugh off her concern. “Not really, just can’t slack off forever. I’ll see you in Curative Magic this afternoon.” Where we learn how to make a half-assed effort at healing ourselves if we’re too impatient to wait for the nurses.
“Okay!” Mia waggles her fingers in a good-bye wave.
As they weave through the other students down the hall, I twist my fingers against the locker door to engage the personally keyed locking system. Not that it’s going to ward off other small presents from being deposited, if someone’s so inclined.
If anyone’s inclined to drop off a dossier on Other Elodie’s assassin, I’d sure appreciate it.
Since that obviously isn’t happening any time soon, I figure actually going to the library isn’t a bad idea. It prevents my friends from catching me in a lie, and I can do research that might be helpful for things other than school reports.
I’ve been living in Other Elodie’s house for ten days, and I barely know anything about what the Devines have been up to in this world that might be different from my own. Even in my own world, I didn’t pay much attention to my grandparents’ affairs.
They wished I didn’t exist, which made remembering that they existed twice as painful.
The academy library has a section with news articles on various developments in the lucent community, from new businesses opened to committees founded to election into public office.
Maybe something Other Elodie’s relatives got up to in the past year or two would give me a hint about what she got wrapped up in or why she’d have been targeted.
Wouldn’t it be the worst irony to realize that no matter what she was meddling in, her death had nothing to do with her at all?
Luminary’s library is housed in the foreboding, vine-draped Apollo Building between the main senior and junior faculties.
I slip past the heavy double doors, dodge a couple of whispering preteens who’ve just come up from the radiant shrine in the basement, and venture into the depths of the maze of bookshelves.
The earthy scent of linseed oil fills my lungs. At least half of the volumes are leatherbound treatises from more than a century back. The librarians take more care with them than any of the professors do with their students.
I make my way to the nook toward the back of the building. A sliver of warm sunshine spills through a narrow window next to the built-in shelves that hold much less impressive-looking publications of spiral-bound printer paper.
I’m reaching for one of the most recent volumes when the floorboards creak behind me.
My palm tingles with a flutter of sensation that condenses into a sting. With a tugging hitch of my pulse, I glance over my shoulder.
Cole’s tall, lean frame blocks my escape route. He glowers down at me, his dark gray eyes even stormier than usual. Despite his neat button-up and suit jacket, a crackle of wild energy wafts off him.
He takes a step closer, his stance tensed. “What are you doing here, Miss Devine? Looking up more insider secrets to make it easier to cheat?”
The angry gravel in his voice puts my nerves on the alert—and scrapes up against my previous annoyance with him.
I turn to face him, bracing myself. “What are you talking about?”
His voice gets even rougher. “Your last assignment was to make a prediction based on ephemera, not gossip you overheard or confidential conversations at home.”
What in Quetzalcoatl’s name is he going on about?
My irritation flares hotter. “I did use my divinatory skills—and nothing else.” Skills the Cole in my world coached me on, for fuck’s sake, not that this guy would dream of such generosity. “Why would you think I didn’t?”
He makes a low scoffing sound that does something low in my belly, not entirely pleasant but not entirely not either.
“You’ve been only slightly above average in those skills the entire time I’ve taught you.
Now suddenly you’re pulling once-in-a-decade predictions out of your ass?
I don’t think so. How did you really know Mrs. Tran was going to quit this weekend? ”
Alongside the smoldering frustration, a flicker of triumph passes through me.
I didn’t know the headmaster’s long-time administrative assistant was going to leave—not for sure.
But the ephemera I examined around her office gave me hints of arguments, ignored concerns, and a request for a copy of her employment contract from one of the lower secretaries.
It was a lucky but educated guess. A good one, it sounds like.
I smile at Cole, though my jaw is tight behind it. “You told us to aim high. That seemed like a big enough prophecy to impress you if I nailed it. I didn’t expect you to go nailing me to a cross over it.”
Cole’s eyes flash. “I’d be impressed if I had the slightest faith that you’d come up with the idea through magic.”
He doesn’t, though. Not one shred. Just like he wouldn’t have when I was outcast, worthless Miss Singh, before our match forced him to give me more of a chance.
I’m never going to win with him.
I don’t need to. I just need him to get out of my way. My palm is still stinging, and heat is seeping over my skin at his nearness and the intensity of his gaze.
Apparently my hormones don’t know how to tell the difference between disgust and lust.
I make my tone as tart as possible. “I’m sorry it’s so hard to believe that your teaching strategies might have improved my divination abilities, but that sounds like a you problem.
Unless you have some kind of proof that I cheated—which I know you don’t, because again, I didn’t—I’m pretty sure this counts as harassment. So how about you fuck off?”
I shift as if to brush past him, trusting him to back off when it’s either that or purposefully block my way.
Instead, he pushes forward. In two brisk strides, he closes all the remaining distance between us.
I stumble into a retreat, my shoulder blades smacking the shelf behind me. There’s nowhere else to go, no way to dodge him in the narrow space.
Cole’s scent washes over me, a cool piney tang as sharp as his attitude. He braces his gloved hand against the shelf close enough that a contrasting heat courses down my arm.
The jab in my palm shoots straight to my heart.
“I’ll find the evidence.” His gaze trails down my body. Even as my skin wakes up in giddy awareness of my would-be match’s presence, a deeper chill hits me in the gut.
He’s getting as close as he can to try to read the ephemera clinging to me. He won’t find any proof of academic misconduct that way—but there’s a shit-ton of other things I don’t want him seeing.
As I focus on the energies around me, the impression washes over me of being two places at once.
Cole frowns at me from behind his desk as the rest of the class files out. I’m the only one he called over for “a word.”
He waits until the door thumps shut for the last time. “You don’t have much practice at containing your ephemera, do you?”
Standing this close to the match who’s spent the last two months unwilling to acknowledge our bond sets off a thrum through my body—one he’s not interested in answering, at least not yet.
I hug myself. “I—I didn’t know that was a thing. They’ve never taught it here.”
He lets out his breath in a soft huff. “Of course not. The academy tyrants want to be able to get a read on you whenever they like. It’s a more advanced aspect of divination—or anti-divination, if you want to be strictly accurate—but I could teach you the basics.”
He’s offering to spend more time with me, beyond what his job dictates?
I waver, guilt momentarily clogging my throat. “Why do you think I need to?”
Has he sensed what I’m hiding about Asher’s death?
Cole lifts his chin toward the desk I was sitting at. “You’ve had an even harder time than usual since you sparked your matches. I’d think limiting the ammunition your classmates can gather would be worthwhile.”
I hadn’t realized he’d been paying attention to the caustic remarks and vicious rumors. But he has.
He has, and even if he’s not ready to go forward with the match yet, he cares enough to help me.
The guilt pools in my chest—he has no idea how badly I want to hide certain things from him—but I can’t resist the kindness he’s offering. “Okay. How do we start?”
Cole’s posture pulls straighter with obvious tension, but he makes a beckoning gesture. “It’ll be easier to get through the basics if you come over here so I can direct your attention…”
With the memory of the careful graze of his fingers and his lessons echoing through me, I will the ephemera wound through and around my body to harden into a thin shell, blank and unreadable.
The Cole with me now leans even closer, his lips pulling back in a silent snarl. A wobble runs through my pulse.
“Back off!” I snap.
His expression stutters between hesitation and determination. The wildness I saw before wins, searing through his gaze. “You…”
He outright touches my arm, his fingers squeezing just hard enough to send an unwelcome shiver straight to my core. His body sways as if he’s fighting his own instincts—or better judgment.
The aching plea that radiates from my palm kicks in harder. I can barely breathe.
Is he more affected than my other matches—maybe because of how long he’s gone without a match, or his deeper sensitivity to the supernatural energies between us?
Some of my own urges are clamoring for me to melt into his arms. As if he’d welcome my embrace.
As if that wouldn’t send this whole situation straight to hell.
I summon the words to outright shout at him—and he heaves himself backward. The sudden distance between us feels like a vacuum.
And maybe not just to me. A trace of bewilderment crosses Cole’s face before he tightens it back into its harsh mask.
“Your family name won’t give you a free pass every time,” he growls, but his voice doesn’t sound quite as steady as before. He whirls with a flap of his suit jacket and stalks away.
I ease off the bookcase, my hands clenched at my sides. My heart is thudding twice as fast.
And part of me is still aching… for him to come back.
Fuck my life—and Other Elodie’s too.