“The real reason I came was to return this,” said Ellory, holding up the box. “While I appreciate the thought—”
“He left for lacrosse practice a half hour ago. And you need a phone.”
“I’ve already ordered a phone,” said Ellory, who had not. Hudson lifted his eyebrows as if he knew, so she amended, “I’m going to order a phone. This one is too much on at least three different levels.”
“That’s Liam,” Hudson murmured, taking the box and wedging it onto his side table. “Too much on at least three different levels.”
The statement wasn’t fond, but it also didn’t sound like a condemnation. Ellory considered asking if that was why they’d broken up—if Liam had been too charming, too earnest, too generous for a porcupine like Hudson Graves to take—but then decided that she didn’t care. Her eyes swept the room from ceiling to floor, catching on a shelf near the window labeled OCCULT. The books there looked new, their spines hardly even bent.
“So far, everything I’ve learned about the Old Masters…well…” Hudson began. He stopped to wrinkle his nose, and his next words sounded like they were being yanked out of him. “It seems that I was wrong.”
Ellory’s gaze snapped back to his. “Did you say you werewrong?”
“I thought we were poking at the past, trying to solve a mystery that’s been cold for decades. But someone in the present wants those secrets to stay buried—”
“You said you were wrong.”
“—and has the magic to silence you—”
“Can you say it again? I want to—wait, fuck, I don’t have a phone to record you on.”
“You are such a child,” said Hudson. The corner of his lips twitched like he wanted to smile, but he managed to suppress it in time. Ellory hated the flutter of pride that took root in her chest. They were a few years out of their teens, and yet Hudson often acted like middle-aged businessman rather than a twenty-one-year-old college student. Even humoring her juvenile teasing made his eyes sparkle. “Yes, I was wrong. But if that’s true, you’re in danger andyou don’t have a phone. I don’t feel good about letting you leave without one.”
Ellory glanced at the box. He had a point, and yet… “I told you that I’m going to order one. I’ll be able to buy a new one myself after my next paycheck. That’s a week from now.”
“Then use this one until then. I promise you that Liam can still get it refunded.”
“Fine.”
“Fine?” Hudson was frowning. “You’re more rattled than you’re letting on. I don’t think you’ve ever agreed with me that fast.”
“Of course I’m rattled. I really thought I was going to die in there. If it hadn’t been for those lights—” Ellory swallowed the words before they could choke her. “Anyway, I’m fine.”
Hudson was silent for so long that she was sure he would call her on the lie, and she had no idea what she would do if he did. Her experience in the orchard was always waiting to unbalanceher again, stealing any semblance of peace—though she was more relaxed than she’d been in a long time for being able to voice her fears to someone who understood. Thankfully, Hudson didn’t push.
Instead, he said, “Where do you think the lights came from?”
Ellory paused. “I…hadn’t thought about it.”
“I have a theory, but I’m not sure you’ll believe it.” When she gestured for him to continue, he cleared his throat. “I think you might have conjured them yourself. You felt scared and unsafe, and you summoned a way out.”
He was right. She didn’t believe it.
Men like Hudson—born with a silver spoon up their assholes—didn’t understand women like her. He had admitted to her, all those days ago, that he had never stopped believing in the impossible. Meanwhile, Ellory’s life had been one slow realization that she was not special. She was no secret royal who would be whisked away to a palace in the hills. She was no great beauty poised to be scouted in a shopping mall. She would never win the lottery or become the unexpected beneficiary of a reclusive millionaire’s inheritance. Men like Hudson were born into greatness, destined for greatness, would have greatness thrust upon them whether they appreciated it or not.
Women like Ellory disappeared—well-behaved and forgotten by history.
Her skepticism must have showed on her face, because Hudson pushed forward with the stubbornness of a man who loved a debate. “You stopped a soccer ball in midair. You successfully hosted a séance. You blasted an attacker off your struggling body. Even before all that, by your own admission, you’ve been seeing ghosts your entire life. Why draw the line at conjuring lights? If magic exists—and we surmise that it does to explain any of this—then you clearly possess the aptitude.”
Ellory discarded three different arguments before accepting that she had no words for the tempest of emotion his words had created. Strung together, those events seemed less like a series of coincidences and more like…like magic. But if she had magic, why was it only showing itself now? Where had it been when her parents had slowly stopped calling? When her aunt had been in the hospital? When she’d watched her classmates move on to college while she remained behind, trapped by medical debt too large to bear the additional weight of student loans?
She would rather have been struck by a soccer ball and lost in an orchard than live with the claustrophobic panic of the last three years, watching life pass her by while she remained in the same place.
Ellory could no longer deny that she had done things that defied rationality. But every time she wanted to believe in them, in herself, reality crashed back in to remind her that even in a magical world, she was so far behind. That magic was something that happenedtoher, not something that workedforher. That she was powerless, not privileged.
“At the very least,” Hudson said when she didn’t speak, “let’s not rule it out.”
“Did you find anything interesting in those?” Ellory nodded toward the OCCULT shelf, tabling this discussion for another day. “They look new.”
