Chapter 42
Forty-Two
Elodie
When Maurice pulls the car into our drive, a trim black sports car is parked farther along the arc. I ease out of the back seat into the warm spring sun, studying it.
I don’t remember seeing the car before—definitely not at our house. If it was Aunt Daphne’s and she’s returned, she’d have parked in the garage. I don’t think the style fits my grandparents.
Why in Odin’s name would anyone be visiting at all? Dad is usually at work until late in the afternoon if not the evening. Nobody should be on the premises except one or two employees.
Gripping the strap of my satchel, I peer up at the house and then at the carefully cultivated yard around it. The drifting scent of the roses I’ve seen Daphne tending sends an extra jab of uneasiness through my chest.
Why isn’t Other Elodie’s aunt back yet?
I reach out with a few wisps of conducted ephemera, sending the energy through the house and the grounds beyond.
Someone’s dropped in. Where exactly are they?
My tentative magical foray picks up a figure in the kitchen who’s probably our chef starting dinner prep… and two presences in the depths of the backyard.
I don’t push hard enough to have any hope of identifying them. They might notice a more forceful touch.
Maybe it’s just a gardening crew? But the sports car doesn’t seem like a likely vehicle for landscaping workers.
Drawing more ephemera around me to dampen the sound of my footsteps, I tread down the cobblestone path around the side of the house. The flowering bushes along the high wooden wall sway with the breeze, adding more sweet floral notes to the air.
No one’s standing on the sprawling, multi-tiered patio with its hot tub, gleaming BBQ, and clusters of cushioned seating. I pull even more magic around me to conceal me from view before crossing the stone-tiled space.
Beyond the patio lie a few more beds of flowers, the gardening shed that’s big enough to serve as a bachelor pad, and then half an acre of pebbled paths winding between sculpted hedges and stately oaks.
I skirt the flowerbeds and pad along the grass that lines the paths rather than risk rattling the pebbles.
The voices reach me before I catch sight of the figures. Definitely not gardeners.
Dad’s voice comes first, low and strained. “—can’t really expect me to be okay with this. Snuff it all. It’s only been a few weeks since someone tried to kill her, and the police still haven’t caught the culprit.”
The voice that answers murmurs even lower, the words disappearing into the breeze.
I stalk closer until the two forms materialize in the shade of one of the farthest trees.
A streak of sunlight penetrates the leaves and glints in the hair of Dad’s companion. The sculpted red waves frame Ms. Lupul’s face as elegantly as ever.
My pulse stutters.
What’s his “consultant” doing here? Cole and Salvatore made it sound like they’d gotten her dismissed from her position.
Did their gambit not work after all? Or did Dad agree to talk to her despite a fall from grace?
I swallow against the dryness of my mouth and force my legs onward. I have to hear what she’s saying.
What if I was wrong and she’s on our side after all?
I tuck myself next to one of the taller shrubs and funnel the breeze to carry their voices more directly to me.
Dad is talking again, his tone matching the furrow in his brow. “Sending the kids into that huge park in the middle of the night—there’s no way they can monitor everyone properly. It’s a ridiculous risk.”
Ms. Lupul’s voice slides into my ears like cool silk, raising goose bumps on my arms. “They’re hardly kids, Julien. Most of the students involved are eighteen or older. Your daughter is twenty.”
Dad shakes his head. “Elodie could be forty, and it still wouldn’t be safe for her to be roaming around in the dark while someone who wants her dead is on the loose.”
My hands ball at my sides. He has no idea the woman next to him is probably connected to that “someone.”
My assessment shifts from “probably” to “definitely” with Ms. Lupul’s next response.
“I’m sure Luminary will ensure everyone’s security,” she says, her posture relaxed in her sleek pantsuit. As if she couldn’t be less concerned.
Which only makes sense if she’s in league with the people setting me up for a fall tomorrow night.
“She was poisoned at the academy.” Dad lets out his breath in a soft huff.
“It’s simple enough. There’s a facility in one of the government offices I could suggest they use instead.
I’m sure Nigel would agree. They’d have more resources there and be able to set up whatever equipment they like in a more controlled environment. A win for everyone.”
A faint thrum of energy has come into his voice, one that sends a more welcome quiver over my skin. That’s the power of his glim: bringing people together, finding solutions that satisfy all sides.
All sides except Ms. Lupul’s, apparently.
She rests a slender hand on his sleeve, her pose still easy but her eyes intent on his face.
“I don’t think it’s necessary to go that far.
What will it mean for Elodie’s future if you give the impression that she needs her father to fight her battles for her even now?
You could harm her prospects over what’s really a very small risk. ”
“We don’t know how small it is,” Dad says.
Ms. Lupul keeps going before he can expand his protest. “And what’s really best for her?
Do you want her to go through life cringing at threats and hiding behind you?
Wouldn’t it serve her better to show you’re confident in her abilities, to give her the self-assurance she’ll need to face everything this world will throw at her? ”
She’s good; I’ll give her that. Something about her words worms through my skull, and for a second I’m almost convinced that I’d be happier if Dad sent me off into the lion’s den with just a pat on my shoulder.
And I’m just watching from afar without her even knowing I’m here.
Before my eyes, the worry lines on Dad’s face smooth out. His shoulders ease down.
He swipes at his mouth. “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”
Ms. Lupul gives his arm a gentle squeeze. “You went straight to defensive mode because you care about her so much. It’s a credit to you as a father. But because you do care so much, it’s also important to consider the bigger picture. The standard you’re setting for the rest of her life.”
The muscles in my arms flex. I can see that she’s winning him over, talking him down, and I doubt it’s only through honest persuasion. There’s magic in the mix, possibly her glim countering his.
My limbs ache to march over there and cut through her bullshit. To tell Dad I don’t want anything to do with this stupid, hazardous training exercise or his treacherous consultant. To throw her scheming in her face.
Except I don’t know if I could actually do that.
Will my protests be strong enough to overwhelm whatever power she’s working on him? I get the sense she could spin my accusations into proof that I need to face my fears or some crap like that.
And then she’ll know that I know. The only advantage I still have is that she and Gwyn and whoever else is in their group don’t realize I’m on to them.
How far will they go if they find out their cover is blown? How swiftly will they move to eliminate me?
I don’t even know how big this group is, how many other lucents they’ve swayed to their side…
I need to think. I can’t rush into anything. Not unless I want to put Dad’s life on the line next to my own.
As I creep back to the house, my lungs clench up. The towering mansion has always intimidated me, but at least it’s felt somewhat secure.
Now… how can I say I’m safe even within those walls? One of my enemies has been pouring her own kind of poison into my dad’s ears.
Is it because of her and her colleagues that Aunt Daphne is still AWOL?
The sudden, chilling question has me pulling my phone from my pocket. I type out a hasty text to Daphne’s number.
When are you coming home? Could use your help. Problems getting bigger.
I don’t know if it’s safe to write more than that in case our enemies are monitoring her communications. But if she does still have access to her phone, surely she’ll reply?
As I wait, I walk past the house and out to the road. A restless tug pulls me on down the street, away from the woman who’s weaseled her way into my family.
If Ms. Lupul is so set on keeping me involved in tomorrow night’s event, it must be even more important—and dangerous—than I imagined. What do she and Professor Jovak and whoever else have planned for me at the park?
How can I expose those plans so they’ll face real justice? Whatever trick Salvatore came up with wasn’t enough, but if we had concrete proof, if the right people saw with their own eyes…
The houses have passed in a blur. I register the scrape of my shoes over the sidewalk pavement, the rhythm of my strides, and my mind trips back to a similar walk I took nearly a month ago.
I set off into the dark that past night to lure out my attacker, never imagining it’d be Kenneth who took the bait.
But he did. He saw me alone and vulnerable, so he made his move.
That strategy didn’t help anyone other than me, revealing the villain only to myself. I couldn’t expose him and the people directing him.
Because we were out by the river without any witnesses.
Because I tried to do it all by myself.
I look at my phone again. No response from Daphne. No indication she’s gotten the message.
My fingers tighten around the case. My heart constricts with the gesture.
I don’t want to put anyone else in danger.
Other people already are, though, aren’t they? My matches are, and they came together to show that they’d rather have me in their lives than go free.
Don’t I owe it to them to believe them?
I inhale deeply and tap out one more message. Then I head toward the river.