Chapter 11 #2
“No,” I say. I open my bag on the chair next to me and collect the items from the table. Elliot, still panting, moves as if to stop me. I level him with a hard look, and his hand pauses in the air. “Don’t even think about it.”
“One more,” he insists, but thankfully, he doesn’t reach for the ingredients again.
I stuff them into my bag, carefully capping the magic in its vial.
It’s the same amount I would have gotten in two hours by myself, but I can’t deny it was far easier with Elliot’s help.
Usually, I’d look a lot more like him right now.
My heart would be pounding. My head would be dizzy.
My eyes would be blurry from hours of strain.
So yes, while we didn’t get as far as I hoped, it was easier. Now, I should be able to go home and work on it for at least another hour before bed.
“Why aren’t you dying?” he demands. He chugs the water our server delivered. It’s his fourth glass since we got here.
“This comes easier to me than it does to you,” I say.
He doesn’t immediately reply. He’s watching me, an unreadable expression on his face.
“How do you know?” he says. It’s both a question and an accusation, and my heart misses a beat. It was a stupid mistake, speaking as if I know him, and it takes all my effort to keep still. Much as I want to, I can’t panic.
“Well, not to hurt your feelings,” I drawl, “but you weren’t exactly pulling your weight back there.”
“No,” he says. “You know I’ve always been bad at it. How?”
“We were classmates, Elliot.”
“Yeah,” he says. “And yet, I remember nothing about you. Not your strengths or your weaknesses.”
My heart spikes in my chest. Thank the Mother he’s not a vampire, or he’d hear the panic in my every breath.
“Is that my fault?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow.
I’m doing my best to maintain control, but it’s hard when he’s looking at me.
His hazel eyes are so pure, so desperate for the truth.
The weakest parts of me are tempted to give it to him, no matter the consequence.
“I was bound as a child. I wasn’t exactly practicing magic in front of you. ”
He grows quiet for a long moment, and my insides relax, one by one. Everything I’ve said makes sense, and he knows it. Even if he suspects the truth, there’s no proof.
“If that’s all, let’s call it a day. We’ll meet back here in a week. Same time.”
I push to my feet while Elliot remains in his seat. He’s staring up at me with an expression I don’t recognize. At least, not directed at me.
Fear, I realize. Elliot is afraid of me.
“You stole them, didn’t you,” he says. It’s not a question. His breathing has finally leveled, and the heat has cooled in his face. “You stole my memories.”
I don’t respond. I stare at him, keeping my voice perfectly still. Though my heart pounds, I don’t let myself outwardly react. He has no proof, and as long as I don’t give him any, this is where it ends.
“You’re a good liar,” he says after a moment. “A good liar. A good thief.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say. The words tumble from my lips, so frantic it’s humiliating. Of all the things I worried about with today’s meeting, him figuring out the truth was not one of them. I’ve never prepared for a scenario like this.
A cocky liar. A cocky thief. That’s what I am. So arrogant with my magic that I assumed I’d never get caught.
“Secora,” he says.
“Cora,” I snap back. I’m flustered now, so unsteady there’s no hope of regaining control. All I can do is get the hells out of here. I throw my bag over my shoulder and speed for the door. “My name is Cora.”
“Say it,” he says. He rises from his seat, crossing to stand beside me.
I freeze, hand on the doorknob. The entire cafe blurs around me, until there is only me, this door, and Elliot’s heavy presence next to me. He places a hand near the top of the door, sealing it.
“Say it,” he repeats. “Admit you stole my memories.”
Say it, freak.
How many times did Harrison say those same words to me? How many more times did he say it that I can’t even remember?
A single expression, and I am a child again. The truth is sour in my mouth, desperate to be spoken.
I stole your memories, I want to say. I’m sorry.
But weak as I may feel, I am not a child anymore.
“Move,” I say instead.
To my surprise, he does. His hands fall slack at his sides as he steps to the side.
I open the door, only to pause with one foot outside the cafe. My heart pounds, but I can’t bring myself to leave. Elliot and I need each other.
“Look,” I say, letting the door fall shut again. I turn back to face Elliot, unsurprised he’s still watching me. “I don’t know what you think, but—”
“I have a friend,” he interrupts. I’m too caught off guard to be offended. “His name is Henry. He’s brilliant with magic, with spellcasting. We might’ve filled that entire vial if he’d been here.”
I don’t say anything, unsure where he’s going with this.
“He might even have ideas on how to increase production,” Elliot continues. “I can ask him to help. He’s trustworthy. Won’t cause problems.”
“Why would you do that?” I ask, terrified I already know.
“Memories,” he says. “I’ll bring my friend. You give me a memory. One for every vial we complete.”
“Absolutely not,” I say. I’m back to the door, twisting the handle.
“Please, Cora,” he says. His voice is somehow both familiar and entirely new. It fills me with a warmth I forgot existed.
I wish I could say it’s logic that makes my decision.
A third person could make a huge difference, especially if he’s as good as Elliot claims. It’s a completely rational argument, but that’s not why I agree.
For the first time in longer than I can remember, this decision comes straight from my heart.
An organ I thought died twelve years ago, but apparently still clings to life.
“Fine,” I whisper. “One memory for one vial. But I get to pick the memory.”
Before Elliot responds, I shove out the door and into the blistering wind.