“I figured I should make sure whatever prediction I come up with has some meat to it,” she replies.
It’s a sentiment I’d normally approve of, except the dismissive note in her voice makes me wonder how much she means it.
I take a step closer, willing away the faint jasmine scent that reaches my nose and the unexpected twinge it wakes up low in my belly. Not a sensation I should let any student provoke in me.
Pushing it aside, I train all my awareness on the quivers of energy emanating from her slim form.
I read all of my students periodically in the midst of classwork, though I don’t generally pry very deeply. Most of their “depth” is disturbingly banal anyway.
But the wisps of impressions Elodie exudes right now feel oddly foreign. As if she’s a stranger I’m assessing for the first time.
What is it that’s different? More jagged edges, maybe? A little more fire?
Or are those just aspects of herself she’s done a better job suppressing in the past and now is letting slip for whatever reason?
I can’t stand here simply staring at her for long. And the longer I do, the more an uncomfortable pressure builds in my chest, as if prodding me to walk even closer.
I tense my legs against the urge. “I’m surprised to hear you say that when you’ve seemed rather uncommitted to your studies this week. Were you dealing with some difficulty I should be aware of?”
It’s not a totally fair accusation or question, considering I don’t give much of a shit what “difficulties” a Devine could possibly experience. But my prompt shifts different, sharper ephemera to the surface of her aura.
A fall as if across a tremendous distance. A bittersweet joy at seeing… her father? A long walk down a dreary street?—
My searching mind slams to a halt with Elodie’s tart voice—and a quiver of energy between us. “I’m perfectly fine and as committed as ever, Professor Raith. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get on with tracing a thread I think is promising.”
She’s drawn her personal ephemera back behind a shield of magic—and not even bothered to acknowledge that she’s purposefully blocking my evaluation.
Never mind that my evaluation wasn’t really of a professional nature. She shouldn’t have been able to detect that I was doing it.
What has gotten into this girl?
The urgency that comes with the question, a sudden almost frantic clamor to understand, pisses me off more than anything else. With only blankness in front of me, the hall’s ephemera roars at the edges of my heightened senses.
My temper slips. “You don’t strike me as particularly cooperative right now, Miss Devine.”
Elodie’s jaw works, but she doesn’t bother to look back at me. “I thought it was commitment you were looking for, not cooperation,Professor.”
Something about the way she bites out my title sears any remaining common sense from my head—and jolts to my groin, turning me half-hard.
For fuck’s sake. What the hell has gotten intome?
A snarl of frustration claws at my throat. I jerk my hand toward the far end of the hall. “You’ve clearly spent enough time here without coming up with anything useful. Why don’t you demonstrate both qualities by finishing your work elsewhere? Or will I be failing you for insubordinationanda failure to follow basic instructions this time?”
A tick of obvious discomfort crosses Elodie’s face before she whips herself around and marches off without a word. The harsh tone I brought out sours in the back of my mouth.
Even though she’s the one retreating, the sense prickles up my spine that I lost more than she did.
Sixteen
Elodie
I’ve just reached the sidewalk outside the school when a provocative whistle pierces my eardrums. “Hey, look, it’s the princess turned punk. If you really want to have your world rocked, I’m right here, patatina!”
I glance over to see Salvatore holding court with a few assorted cousins and hangers-on from the lucent mafia crowd. As they guffaw at his comments, he aims an exaggerated grin at me, his gaze sweeping over my body. His attention sets off an unwelcome wash of heat that’s both anger and an echo of undeserved attraction.
If only he knew. If the Salvatore I left behind heard someone talk to me like that, he’d have his knife to the guy’s throat before I’d even managed to blink.
I don’t see any point in dignifying the catcall with a full response. Turning away, I aim my middle finger in his generaldirection and hurry off in the direction I saw Grady Tadros heading.
