Or ever, if she had her way.
Her pulse skipped involuntarily when she saw the Barracuda parked out front with the hood flipped up. She and Hudson hadn’t had class together yet, so she had no idea what version of him would greet her today. The man who had believed her wild tales of magic and ghosts, who had held her like she was a rare first edition when he’d found her in the orchard? Or the elitist bully who scowled at the sight of her, who made theandinEllory and Hudsonfeel like a chasm full of barbed wire, too wide and perilous to cross?
But it wasn’t Hudson with his hands buried in the guts of the car. It was Boone, his dark hair pulled up into a tiny ponytail and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He wore a pair of black overalls over a blue sweater, and there was a smudge of oil beneath his left eye. She opened her mouth to greet him and choked back the words.
With his forearms bare, Ellory could clearly see the tattoo of a sun with a line through the center that decorated Boone’s innerwrist. It was the same symbol she’d seen in the hidden museum, the one that had looked so familiar to her. The alchemical symbol for salt, the element of permanence. She watched the tattoo wink in and out of view as Boone fiddled with the inner workings of the car, stark against his almond skin when he dragged the back of his hand across his weeping forehead.
Boone took one look at her and snorted. “We told him not to buy you a new phone.”
Her mouth hung open. She closed it.
“I have no idea if he’s even here.” Boone gestured to his wireless earbuds. “I’ve been swamped. But the door’s open if you want to check.”
Ellory remained rooted to the spot, torn between asking about the tattoo and pretending she hadn’t seen it. Would Boone pin her to the ground with his hands around her neck, threatening her away from the conspiracy he was clearly a part of? Despite the fact that they were outside, Ellory was aware of howalonethey were. These storybook homes and cream-shuttered windows hid helpers or bystanders, and she wouldn’t know which one the neighbors would choose to be until it was too late.
“Morgan?” Bonne raised his eyebrows. “You need something else?”
Ellory swallowed and shook her head.
Inside, the house was the kind of quiet that signaled no one was home. The lights were on, but there was no music or conversation. The television was cold, the kitchen abandoned. Eucalyptus branches were sunning in a blown-glass vase on the windowsill, making the air smell of forest and mint. Hudson was in his bedroom, wearing a pair of headphones as he pored over a textbook in bed. Fruit snacks spilled from a bag by his elbow. When Ellory studied,she looked like a gremlin, her hoodie drawn over her frizzy coils, well-deep bags beneath her eyes, pimple patches decorating her jaw. Hudson’s cozy sprawl could have come directly from a pinup.
She stepped inside, locking the door behind her.
“Morgan,” he said, expression inscrutable, “we have got to stop meeting like this.”
“Boone has one of the alchemical symbols tattooed on his wrist.” Ellory pressed her back against the wood, her ears alert for any movement in the hallway. Her paranoid mind was comforted by the lack of sound. He hadn’t followed her inside. Thankfully. “Whatever’s going on here, I think he’s a part of it.”
Hudson sat up, his left foot tucked under his right thigh. He drummed his fingers against his bent knee, and Ellory remembered too late that he and Boone weren’t simply close but also acted like family, all soft glances and inside jokes. In a war of words, Hudson had no reason to believe in her instead of Boone. And the longer the silence went on, the more Ellory wished she’d kept her suspicions to herself.
“Boone does have a tattoo of a crow on his chest, now that you mention it.”
The bird wings she’d seen the tips of around his shirt the first time they’d met. Ellory opened her mouth and then closed it, staring at Hudson instead. Of all the things he could have said, she had not been expecting that.
“He’s also the editor in chief of the school paper,” Hudson continued, unaware of her shock, “which, by its very nature, means he definitely knows more than he should. If there’s a conspiracy on campus, he’ll be the first one there.”
She didn’t blink.
“Morgan?” Hudson said. “Did you hear me? Boone might—”
“Yeah, no, I—yeah.” Ellory shook her head, biting back a smile. “Do you think he’s dangerous? If he’s involved with them, maybe he’s spying on me. Maybe I shouldn’t come by here anymore.”
“I don’t think he’sdangerous, per se. He’s not—well, he’s not subtle enough for that. If he wanted to attack you, he would do it without playing games. But I think it’s worth keeping an eye on him in case hedoesknow something.” Hudson made a thoughtful sound. “Hey, what if you join the paper?”
For the second time, shock silenced Ellory’s mind. “Me?”
“It’d be suspicious ifIshowed a sudden interest after four years, but he doesn’t really know you. Besides, theWarren Communiquéis legendary, so it wouldn’t even be weird for you to want to write for them.”
Her ears rang. She almost asked him to repeat himself, because it seemed like he was handing her everything she had ever wanted in the form of a concrete reason to make time for the newspaper. All her reasons for avoiding it caught fire, and a fresh determination grew from their ashes. When it was no longer about her selfish wants, it was easy, too easy, to say yes.
“That’s a great idea,” she said too quickly. “I could keep an eye on him there.”
Hudson nodded. “And I can keep an eye on him at home. It wouldn’t be safe for me to confront him, considering he has access to where I sleep, but I’ll watch him more closely and text you any updates.”
“Unless he hides your phone.”
“Indeed.”
Despite how the sight of the tattoo had rattled her, Ellory’s lips twitched in amusement at Hudson’s return to formality. Her relief at being so easily believed calmed her enough to look around. Hisroom felt different in the light of day, without the thumping of bass beneath the floorboards and a packed house of drunken partiers. Hudson was in sweatpants again, this time paired with a band T-shirt so worn that she couldn’t identify the band. He’d made some effort to organize his books, because the piles were smaller and the bookshelves sported labels: MEMOIRS. ROMANCE. ESSAYS. SCI-FI. FANTASY.
