Enough onlookers drift after the emergency responders to the front doors that I can trail after them without drawing attention. As Elodie vanishes into the ambulance, I notice Salvatore pacing on one of the front steps, his hands opening and clenching at his sides.
Why is the heir to two lucent mafias so worked up? In all our time together at Luminary, I haven’t seen him do anything with Elodie other than occasionally harass her.
If someone was going to hire a criminal to reach her within the academy… wouldn’t he be the perfect choice? Maybe all his huffing and puffing is for show to throw off suspicion.
As I study him more closely, he spins around. His gaze collides with mine and narrows.
He barges up the steps so abruptly I stumble backward on instinct, yanking a shield of ephemera between us. It might have deflected a magical assault, but his gloved hand rams straight through it.
He snatches the lapel of my blazer to halt my retreat. “Why the fuck are you looking so interested? Did you have something to do with her getting sick?”
The question is so absurd a hoarse laugh sputters out of me. “No. Of course not. Didyou?”
Probably unwise to add that last question, but Salvatore simply bares his teeth at me. “Just keep the fuck away from her where you belong.”
He shoves me toward the wall and stalks off.
I swipe my hand across my mouth and cast one last glance toward the now-empty spot where the ambulance parked.
“Keep the fuck away.”
Elodie was just telling me the same thing. It’s what my parents would say too, isn’t it?
Something like:Leave it alone, Byron. We didn’t spend three generations building our legacy in England and two more here just to throw it away for some spoiled rich girl. It’s nothing to do with you, and it’ll only be trouble.
All of that is true. But as I turn away from the last place I saw Elodie, I can feel down to my bones that I won’t be able to let this go.
Thirty-Seven
Elodie
Pain jabs everywhere inside like a flurry of needles… A rhythmic beeping reverberates alongside them…
Voices warble in and out of earshot…
“Did you finish the?—”
“—one more time, just in case.”
“—clear as we can?—”
“—should be enough.”
“Bring over the?—”
“—the way her heart rate?—”
The words fade completely into a murky haze.
Lights blink through the fog as if far in the distance.
Why does everything hurt so fucking much?
Poison. In the soup, down my throat.
Who would have?—?
I didn’t do it to myself this time. This time, it wasn’t me.
