“Could your aunt empty yours?” Maggie asked. “I could get Craig to draw mine out. I mean, I’m dead to them, so he’s my kid…”
“Underage.”
“Yes, but with my ATM card. Hell, maybe I could transfer it to our new names. Wire transfer like we are paying a bill and—”
“Our accounts are likely closed if they think we’re dead.” Ellie kept her voice calm. Ever since they’d found out about the way the Congress of Magic lied to them, Maggie seemed to be a razor wire. Not all the way dangerous, but close enough that Ellie couldn’t decide whether it would be better or worse if her kid was dead. Obviously, his death would be tragic, and Ellie wouldn’t wishthaton Maggie—but finding him alive? That was a new set of grief, betrayal, consequences.
And I want Prospero not to have lied to me.
While Maggie had her own baggage, Ellie was feeling a betrayal she couldn’t name. The woman she was falling for hadn’t even cared. If she lied about Craig, did she lie about the cows that sent Ellie to the hospital? How much of her “let me love you” was a lie?
And how dare she let strangers watch them have sex—because it clearly wasn’t making love if she was a liar and put Ellie on display like that.
“If we don’t get a hotel, your ex will be there…” Ellie tried to weigh her words. “We need a hotel, Mags. If we arrive in the middle of the night, what are we going to do?”
Maggie deflated. She looked like she shrank in size. “Can we drive by the house?”
“Once.”
“I know you’re right,” Maggie muttered. “What about ID? I know a guy…”
“And if your son is—”
“He’s not dead.” Maggie shook her head, shooting a glare at Ellie. “It’s not like regular currency works over there. We get the IDs, and if we don’t need them…”
“Fine.” Ellie was fairly sure they would need them, but she wanted to leave room for the possibility that the people in Crenshaw hadn’t lied.
Because I want Prospero to be the real thing.
What about the spying on rooms, though?The thought that the students were under observation wasn’t shocking, and if the headmaster told Maggie, it was likely true.So why would Prospero be with me like that in my room if we were being watched?
Ellie shoved that mental quagmire away. “Let’s call your guy.”
Maggie recited a number, and Ellie tapped it in. She put it on speaker, and after the third ring, a rough voice—like the speaker had smoked all the cigarettes in the state and paused for moonshine between them—answered with, “How did you get this number?”
“What’s the news, Charlie?”
“My girl! Wait. I heard you was dead…”
Maggie laughed, sounding strained. “I need a few full sets. What’s your timeline?”
“For you? Tomorrow night if you get me photos tonight.”
“Cash.”
He made a tsking sound. “Doll, your money’s no good with me. You know that. I’ll see you where I see you.”
The phone went dead.
Ellie reassessed her travel partner, who apparently had a direct line to criminals. “You know where to go?”
“I do.” Maggie glanced at her. “You have a photo of Hestia?”
“We’re getting her—?”
“Look. You can ask her. Stay without ever seeing you, or come with us. It’s her choice… unless you’d rather she stay. We can avoid seeing her if you think—”
“She’s a witch. Siphoned,” Ellie blurted out. She felt like Maggie deserved to know. “Siphoned to get back to me.”
