24. Cori
Cori
W hen Cori woke the next morning, Adrian was gone, but there was hot coffee and a plate of over-easy eggs waiting for her on the table. She pulled out her laptop as she munched on her eggs, typing “Los Angeles Reform Coven, news” into the search bar.
Nothing had been updated since the last time she checked the website. She was also disappointed to see the meeting about the prophecy was still posted on the website’s calendar page.
She had not told Adrian about the LARC the previous night, but a part of her wondered if he would heed her warning and keep his distance from her if he knew the full extent of the threat. She typed into the search bar again, “The Mother, the Giver, and the Other.”
Although she had memorized the words of her prophecy by heart, she had never questioned its meaning. Not until last night. Through all the years of her schooling in the coven, the Other had always been referenced as the collective magic of witches .
That’s what made her prophecy particularly threatening, not just to those who practiced dark magic. She had never considered that there could be nuances to the meaning of the Other.
According to Adrian’s version—what she could only surmise to be the version held true to all Elemental witches—the Other was separate from witches completely but within the fabric of the universe. She scanned through Elemental magic websites, and what he said seemed to be standard thinking.
She tapped her finger on the trackpad of her computer for a few moments before clicking on the search bar again. This time, she keyed in “Adrian Huxley, Farley, Maine.” A few newspaper articles popped up on the top of the search engine.
Adrian had apparently been a track star in high school. She found his name on the commencement page for the business school website for the University of Maine. To her relief, nothing incriminating came up as she scrolled.
She pulled the laptop closed, eager to pack up her tackle box and head to the office to focus on the real reason she had come to this town and push Adrian out of her mind. How could she be so reckless with him?
He knew about the prophecy now, but last night had proved that distancing herself from him was going to be a special kind of agony. She could still sense the ghost of his lips on hers, and his magic clung to her like static.
Goddess, he was stubborn, too . She had asked him to leave for a reason. Her brain had been too anxious to allow her to fall asleep right away, and his presence in the living room was like torture. How was she supposed to avoid him?
There isn’t a choice , she said to herself. Deep in her gut, her Eye flared in protest.
She smoothed the sheets, tidying the duvet cover over her bed before sitting heavily on its edge, easing open the bedside table. Enzo’s letter was the only object within the drawer, the thin, angular lines of his script tainted with the bloody pentagram. Her skin prickled at the thought that her new home had been broken into, and after she had been there for such a brief time.
How had they found her?
She opened her Eye, recalling the look of triumph that had erupted on the witch’s face as she found Enzo’s note. It was almost as though the note was the thing she was seeking, not Cori herself. She knew of some spells that used an object to locate a person, but the object always had to have some imprint. What kind of magical imprint could Cori have left on a piece of paper that had been in her possession so briefly?
She spent a few moments securing the cottage with her mother’s protective charms, proofing the locks and windows, and making them impervious to magic or any type of forced entry.
She knelt next to Turtle, whispering an incantation as she stroked her fur. The feline’s ears perked up as though she understood what was happening to her. “Stay out of trouble, you,” Cori said, scratching Turtle’s fuzzy neck, making sure the protective spell didn’t frighten the poor thing. At least she wouldn’t be kidnapped by any neighbors now.
She slipped her charm bracelet farther up into the sleeve of her shirt before gathering her belongings, feeling much more prepared for the day now that she had been adequately caffeinated.
Even though there were barely any parking spots left at the Farley Center, she was the first one in the office. She looked out to the sea beyond her window, dotted now with fishing boats of various sizes. The moon was fully set, cloaked by the blue of the sky and the brightness of the sun. She had spent the first hour at her desk setting up her computer and responding to a few emails when she heard the door click open.
Jordan’s voice was drenched in annoyance. “Let me tell you something, Anne. I am done with these people at the EPA. Did I tell you I had connections at the Department of the Interior? One of my fraternity brothers from NYU works there, and he’s pretty high up.” Bags clattered onto the desk. “I am sick of the hoops that I have to jump through to get this data.”
“You were in a fraternity?” Anne said incredulously.
“Is that seriously the only thing you just heard me say?” A briefcase snapped open, papers shuffling.
Cori leaned into the room cautiously, a second cup of hot coffee steaming in her hand.
“What data inquiry are you doing with the EPA? ”
Jordan gestured with both hands outstretched to Anne, prompting her to explain, still seething in his anger.
“The EPA did a metals study on the coastal waters in the early 2000s,” Anne explained. “I need the data to compare it to what we have collected with the buoys to see if there was any positive impact from the no dumping laws.”
Cori raised a curious eyebrow. “Have you submitted it as a data inquiry?”
“Yes, and the statistics department is impossible to get a hold of,” Jordan griped. “Every time I email them, I get some excuse, or it gets forwarded to some other person who doesn’t know what to do.”
She nodded with understanding. “I’ve always hated working with them.” She leaned on the wall, crossing her arms in thought. “There was probably a publication associated with it, though, right?”
“I think there was.” Anne shuffled onto the couch, her kombucha sloshing around in the glass mason jar she drank it from.
“Well, we can always try to get the paper from the research department instead,” Cori reasoned. “That way we can extrapolate the data directly from the paper.”
Jordan perked up in his chair, cocking his head. A slow smile spread on his face. “Dr. Evans, you just made my morning.”
She snorted, rolling her eyes as she plopped herself down next to Anne. “Please stop calling me Dr. Evans, especially in public. People are going to think I’m asking you to be so formal.”
Jordan’s grin turned sultry. “And what, may I ask, is making you so concerned about what other people think about you? Could it have something to do with your little trip to Carl’s last night?” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair as she tried to fight the flush rising in her face.
“What are you talking about?” Anne asked, mouth bursting with a large piece of bagel.
Cori shook her head dismissively. “Yeah, what are you talking about, Jordan? ”
“Everyone saw you leave Carl’s with Adrian Huxley last night,” Jordan said coyly.
Anne choked on her bagel. After nearly aspirating and coughing for a full minute, she laughed. “Hannah’s son?”
“Erm…” Cori started twisting the ends of her hair around her fingers. “Yeah, our neighbors. I met them when I was unpacking over the weekend.”
“Cori, how much unpacking did you even do this weekend? You have—what—five bags with you?” Anne rose her eyebrows expectantly.
“You’ve already worn that sweatshirt twice,” Jordan said, arching a brow.
Cori glared at him.
“Adrian is the younger one, right?” Anne asked.
“I like to think of him as the dark, brooding, sarcastic one with the nice ass,” Jordan corrected her, leaning forward in his chair.
Damn, everyone in this town really did know everyone else’s business.
“Wow.” Anne raised her eyebrows. “Most of the single women in Farley have been trying to get his attention for years, but you leave a bar with him on your first weekend here.” She sat back on the sofa, crossing her arms with a wry smile.
Cori felt the heat intensifying in her cheeks again.
“I heard he has nipple rings,” Jordan said smoothly from behind his coffee mug. At this, Anne roared with laughter, nearly spilling what was left of her bagel.
“He does not,” Cori said quickly, biting back a laugh. She immediately regretted it, burying her head in her hands.
“So, you admit you’ve become well enough acquainted with his nipples to know this information?” Jordan mused like a lawyer questioning his witness, a devilish grin playing on his mouth.
Anne was shaking uncontrollably with laughter now on the sofa next to her.
Cori remembered how she had tried not to stare at Adrian when he took his shirt off to work on the boat. Yes, she would have remembered nipple rings, but she had to admit she was rather distracted by the sweat dripping down his sculpted chest. She stood abruptly, trying to hold on to whatever shred of dignity she had left. She pursed her lips and shook her head as she spun on her heel to return to the office.
She could hear Anne’s dwindling laughter turn into a chastising tone, as she gathered up her equipment, grabbing the keys to the boat.