“Rah-rah,” Hudson snarked, adding a little fist pump.
Ellory ignored that to dig through her bag until she found her notebook. By now, it was half-full with data and decorated with small multicolored page flags and neon Post-it notes scribbled with her handwriting. She’d returned to Cover Story several times as every detail she recorded only created more mysteries. Psychology had been swiftly abandoned for the esoteric, especially as she’d pried deeper into the history of the school.
Hudson closed his laptop and pushed it to the corner of the kitchen island, making room for her to set the notebook between them. Then he pulled his chair closer, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body. Even though they weren’t touching, Ellory knew how easily they could, and it brought her thoughts to a screeching halt. His scent enveloped her, citrus and earth andman, and was she really so starved for sex that her body was having a chemical reaction to a guy with the temperament of an open sore?
She stared at the countertop. “I’ve been doing research, and I found out something interesting. Did you know Warren University has a supernatural history?”
Hudson snorted.
“Apparently, the founders of the school were former members of the New England Society for Psychic Research, and their initial goal was to open an academy to educate people about the arcane. Warren was originally registered as the School for the Unseen Arts for about a month before the change. Even now, several books claim that occultism and witchcraft is still baked into the stones of this place—especially since it was given Ivy status the same year it was founded. Prior to Warren, the most recently founded college was Princeton in 1865.”
“Weren’tallthe Ivies officially given Ivy status that year?” Hudson pointed to one of her page flags. “This says the Ivy Group Agreement happened at an athletic conference in 1954.”
“And you don’t find that strange? That Warren started as a laughingstock and became an Ivy withinmonths?”
Hudson frowned. “I guess that is a little strange.”
“There used to be rumors about demonic bargains and dark magic, especially when students began disappearing. Letitia Rose in the 1960s, Manuel Sharp and Angel Mclaughlin in the 1970s, Olivia Holloway, Tasha Butler, and Eugene Kang in the 1980s, and Kristopher Douglas and Joel Carroll in the 1990s.” Ellory turned to another page, where she had summarized a paragraph from a book that referred to the disappearing students asthe Lost Eight. “They were never found, and to this day, no one knows what happened to them. There isn’t a lot of information on it that I could find. But maybe that’s why all this is happening to me again. Maybe I’m haunted because the school is haunted.”
“Your theory is that you’re experiencing strange phenomena because the dead founders kidnapped eight people and, what, fed them to a demon for power?”
Ellory slammed the Moleskine shut. “Listen, if you’re not going to take this seriously—”
“I’m not seeing what any of this has to do with what’s happeningnow. Even if the founders did make some sort of infernal pact to join the Ivy League, who cares? It seems like they got what they wanted in 1954.”
“You’re relating this back to political systems for your thesis, right? Well, when have people in power ever stopped when they’ve gotten what they wanted? If you knew magic existed—if you could manipulate it to change the world—would you stop? Would youeverstop?”
Hudson was now frowningat her. They were so close that she could see the line of stubble he’d missed during his morning shave. His leg brushed hers when he turned to face her, their knees grazing. Without the music in the background, Ellory became overly aware of their breathing synching up.
“You think magic exists?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” She was trapped in the melted chocolate of his eyes. His attention was a heady thing. When he wasn’t making her angry, the intensity with which he studied her bolstered her confidence that she knew what she was talking about. “I think it depends on your definition of magic. We don’t even know everything there is to know about the ocean. How can we claim to know everything there is to know about the world?”
“But…magic.”
“I don’t know if it’s magic! Let’s stick with the wordhaunting. That’s how the New England Society for Psychic Research got started. It was established by Ed and Lorraine Warren, a demonologist and a trance medium who traveled the country investigating supposedly haunted sites. There are loads of movies about their cases.” Ellory managed to free herself from Hudson’s gaze and pulled her notebook protectively against her chest. “Maybe thethings I keep seeing are…a death echo from the Lost Eight. Because I’m—I don’t know—spiritually sensitive. Or maybe I’ve seen one too many movies. But the one thing we know for sure is that no one knows what happened when those students went missing. And they deserve justice, don’t they?”
Before Hudson could respond, the front door opened. Ellory shoved the Moleskine into her bag and zipped it shut while Hudson scooted his barstool away from her and opened his laptop. Her cheeks were burning, though they had been doing nothing more illicit than talking about ghosts. She chalked it up to the hot kitchen.
Ellory heard the duo before they actually appeared in the doorway. The first to enter was Liam Blackwood, today wearing an aquamarine polo and black jeans. Though he wore long sleeves, Ellory could see that his ringed hands were also tattooed and that more ink inched under the fabric. Bird wings, she thought from a quick glance. Behind him was another man, with almond skin, thick black hair, and tattoos on his neck that disappeared beneath his black shirt.
The man dressed in black was the first to react to the scene. “I fucking told you he wanted us out of the house for a reason.”
“Don’t be rude,” said Liam, beaming. “This is Ellory Morgan. She was at our last party. Ellory, this is my other roommate, Boone Priestley.”
“What’re you two up to?” asked Boone, whose onyx eyes had not shifted from the scene in front of him. “Study date?”
“It’s not a date, but yes,” said Hudson. “I thought you were going to see a movie.”
“It sucked ass. We left early.” Boone seemed to sense that Hudson didn’t want them here and found this amusing. He grabbed one of the other two barstools, dragged it around to their side of thekitchen island, and perched beside Ellory with his head propped up on his arm. His sleeve slunk down enough for her to see that another one of his tattoos was a sun with a random line through the center. “What’d you say your name was? Emory?”
“Ellory.”
“Hud’s never brought a woman home before. How long have you two been together?”
“Never?” Ellory asked with feigned shock. Hudson looked like he would have tried to strangle them both if there weren’t a witness in the room, and that made Ellory add an exaggerated gasp. “What a nerd.”
“Don’t encourage him, Morgan,” Hudson grumbled. “You’ll regret it.”
