“It was like stepping into a memory,” she finally said, clearing the counter of Tai’s empty cup and abandoned tea bag. “It’s not a good memory, but it’s not a bad one. It just…is. You wonder how you could have ever forgotten that life could be like this—and you dread what it means for you, for the world, that life can be like this. Words don’t do it justice.”
“I want to see.”
Ellory glanced at the back table, where one of the students had fallen asleep on their keyboard. Their laptop screen was illuminated with an incomprehensible PDF scan, incomprehensible not because of the distance but because the text was illegible, letters bleeding into one another from age. Ellory would have passed out rather than deal with that, too.
“Maybe during my break,” she allowed.
On the night shift, her break consisted of being allowed to sit down behind the counter; with no one to relieve her, she couldn’t abandon her post. Tai called Cody, who showed up in a long hoodie and leggings, their hair beneath a navy baseball cap. While Tai and Ellory went out back, Cody hung around the counter, ready to summon Ellory if anyone needed anything—or, worse, if her boss did a surprise drop-in.
Outside, the moon was almost full, lined by a slip of darkness no larger than a hangnail. Dumpsters were wedged against the back of the coffee shop, and gray garbage bags peeked out. The grass was dull even without the wash of moonlight, wheat-yellow patches broken by soil and stone. Tai leaned against the building, wrappingher winter coat tighter around her as the cold tore through the night, sinking into places it didn’t belong. Ellory flexed her hands at her sides, trying to find that string of power that had wound within her at Bancroft.
But there was nothing.
It wasn’t even as though there were a notable absence of something. That would have roused her suspicions, given her a mystery she could sink her teeth into. Instead, her heart beat, and her breath flowed in and out of her lungs, but there was a lack of thatsomething morethat had overtaken her on the field. She felt no more powerful than a leaf swept along by the wind, and it scared her, this impotence, how easily it rendered her weak.
Ellory clenched her eyes shut, rifling through a lifetime of memories. She opened her mind in offering, inviting the magic in to take and to create. A field of grass. A ball of light. A pack of birds. Something.Anything.
Her eyes jumped open.
No goose bumps flared along her arms. No pain singed her nerve endings. If there was sentient power in the universe, it was ignoring her. Her mind was intact, and she should have been happy about it, but this left her empty in a different kind of way.
This came with the sour taste of failure.
Tai shifted, her puffer jacket crinkling in reminder of her presence. Ellory’s cheeks heated as she stared at the ground until her eyes watered. It was like Bancroft had been a dream, and she had awakened into the real world where magic was the stuff of Disney movies and fairy tales, reserved for girls with golden locks and evil stepmothers. The fire in her face spread to her stomach, a kind of shameful resignation that said,You should have known better.
“Your break is over,” said Tai. Her gentle voice was like a slap.
Ellory didn’t turn. “Tell Cody I’ll be in soon.”
Tai took a breath, as though to say something, and then decided against it. Ellory waited until her footsteps faded to drag the back of her hand across her eyelids, wiping away the gathered tears. She glared at the grass as though it had personally betrayed her, but the only response she got was the rattle of the dumpster lid in the wind.
22
Ellory made her way to the building that housed theWarren Communiquéoffice that Friday. Her phone was silent in her bag, undisturbed by messages or calls. She had made no effort to reach out to Hudson, and he had made even less effort to reach out to her. If he thought his silence would derail her investigation, she was excited to prove him wrong. If he had abandoned her to protect Boone, she wanted to know why. And if she had other reasons for her nerves as she approached the front doors, that was something she could keep to herself.
She had walked by this place many times on her way to one class or another, but she’d never allowed herself the luxury of slowing down to admire it in earnest. It was done in a Gothic style, with a single pointed arch that bore a stained glass rose window. The black door in the gray-washed stone was decorated on either side by columns with two lions carved into them. Inside, marbled hallways led to an elevator that declared theCommuniquéwas on the top floor. The staircase was directly to the right, with a sign on the door that said ROOF ACCESS.
Ellory tugged her cropped hoodie down over her bare stomach as the elevator took her to the penthouse. She buttoned and then unbuttoned her coat. Her hands couldn’t decide whether they wanted to stay in her pockets or not. The many times she had imagined coming here, it had been under such different circumstances. Now she couldn’t even stand in an elevator without hearing the disappointed voice of her aunt Carol, chiding her for wasting her time on a money sieve like journalism. Even if she had a good reason.
Even if she wanted this.
Ding.
Ellory had expected the floor to be quiet, but people filled the area, sitting behind desks, laughing by the stained glass window, pushing a whiteboard from one glass-walled office to another. A printer was running, loud and steady. The air smelled of coffee and excitement. Eyes latched onto her as soon as she stepped out of the elevator, but when she tried to find the prying gazes, there didn’t seem to be a single person looking up from their computer.
To her left was a container full of the latest issue of theWarren Communiqué, a front-page story bragging about the victory of the soccer team at an away game. Ellory realized she was searching the crowd in the picture for Hudson and dragged her eyes away.
“Well, well, well,” said Boone, appearing from behind a column. In defiance of the weather, he wore a short-sleeved black shirt with a deep V-neck that revealed a hint of the crow tattoo across his chest, and tan cargo pants. Somewhere on his ink-covered arms was the alchemical symbol she was looking for, hiding in plain sight. There was a marker behind his ear and a cap embroidered with TWC over his messy hair. “They told me we had a novice, but I didn’t expect it to be Miss Ellory Morgan.”
“Hi, Boone,” she said, ignoring the sudden kick of her pulse. “I didn’t know you were on the newspaper.”
“I run the newspaper,” he corrected. “I was made editor in chief this year. Walk with me.”
With his back to her, it became even more obvious how guileless he was in her presence, as if they were old friends. It was the performance of a lifetime if he was truly involved with the Old Masters.
Boone took her to one of the glass offices, which had a round table, several empty chairs, and a whiteboard that was half-full of what was labeled STORY PITCHES. Without the label, Ellory never could have guessed, because all she saw was DUCKS, FOLLOW-UP, THAT ONE FUCKING DELI, and a picture of what looked like the Babadook.
He slid the door closed and threw himself down in one of the chairs. His booted feet found the table, lifting the front legs of his chair off the ground. “What can I do for you, Morgan?”
