Part II
The Sinister Elite
They scare the singing birds of earth away
As, greed-impelled, they circle threateningly,
Watching the toilers with malignant eye,
From their exclusive haven—birds of prey.
“Birds of Prey,” Claude McKay
Interlude
There is magic in the bones of this world: in the soil and the waves, in the air and the billions of souls that pollute it. It lives and changes, fades and lingers. On the campus of Warren University, magic gathered like shadows at dusk, painting everything a color that few know how to see. The school’s motto was the only hint that most had of the world beneath this world, of the magic that breathes and breathes and breathes…
Exstat. There exists.
In legends and folktales, magic is woven into the fabric of existence. In occult secret societies and classified CIA programs, magic is a ritual, a hypothesis, a field of study that can make or break empires. These days, magic is like a mist, slipping through the fingers of anyone who tries to clutch it too tightly. It is sacrifice. It is accidental. It is in the hands of too many and too few. It is a dwindling resource in a century of dwindling resources, and you never know where it might find you.
But itwillfind you.
And magic—the magic of bones, of shadows, of legend—always leaves a stain.
19
Ellory slept until Sunday afternoon, interrupted only by work and a call from Aunt Carol that ended with Ellory ordering fresh fruits and vegetables to be delivered to their Astoria apartment. Her body acted on autopilot, fine-tuned from years ofdoing; caretaking was so second nature that she could pour into her aunt’s health from an emotional well so empty that cobwebs lined the bottom. Without the luxury of free time to have the breakdown that waited in the wings of her mind, she was stuck with a general malaise that discolored the world around her. Stasie was as disinterested in her as ever; the few times they were both conscious in the dorm, Stasie either had headphones in or was on her way out.
The package alert, then, came as a genuine surprise. It was a break in the monotony.
Tai found her in the mail room, waiting for the student concierge to return with her package. Tai’s braids were decorated with a deep red head wrap, which was tied into a bow to allow them to tumble down her back. Ellory, who had simply pulled her hair into a bun, felt underdressed as Tai threw an arm around her.
“You didn’t tell me how the date was,” said Tai, rocking them from side to side to the tune of a song only she could hear. “Did Blackwood earn a second one?”
It took Ellory a second to remember the date at all. Her mind was full of magic and murder, her thoughts spilled across the page of the Word document upstairs, where she’d recreated the notes she’d taken in the orchard as best she could. She’d had no space for the memory of why she’d been in the orchard in the first place until now. “It was nice.”
“Nice?Ouch.”
“No, I—that’s a good thing.”
“Not with that expression, it isn’t.”
Ellory didn’t know what her face was doing, and she was too tired to figure it out. Liam was nice. The date had been nice. And none of that mattered right now. She let Tai string together several platitudes about fish in the sea and the world being her oyster and then rank the dating apps by “vibe.” The fluorescent lights pulsed like Ellory was hungover, and there was an enormous yawn trapped in her throat that she didn’t dare let out until Tai was done talking.
“Here it is,” the concierge said, dropping her package on the counter.
Ellory stared blankly at the box. It had a picture of a cell phone emblazoned on the front, which she recognized as a new model that would have been obsolete by the time her own stopped working. If, of course, she hadn’t lost it at the farm.
“I…” She blinked at the woman. “I didn’t order this.”
“I get off in ten minutes,” the concierge said in a pleading tone. And then, when Ellory opened her mouth to protest further, she continued: “Ten minutes. Take it.”
She shoved the box closer to Ellory, revealing a small envelopetaped to the far side. Ellory turned the package to pull it off while the student slipped away to help someone else. Her name was written in neat cursive, and the envelope was closed with a wax seal. That alone was enough to raise her suspicions, even before she saw that the seal was stamped with the lettersLB.
Liam Blackwood.
And that was how she ended up in an Uber to Liam’s off-campus housing, the box balanced in her lap like it was full of snakes. It was impossible to forget Liam was in a different social class considering how he dressed, but there was a difference between making out in an apple orchard and accepting gifts it would take ages to repay him for. Their relationship hovered in that undefined stage betweenjust for funandexclusive, and she refused to introduce this kind of power imbalance so soon.
