“Exactly,” Parker says. “Rose’s powers are intact. I’m hoping you can compare our blood and see what’s different with mine. Then figure out how to reverse it.”
I study the dust-lined bookshelf while Parker pulls out his trump card, making an offer we knew would have McGregor eating out of the palm of our hands before we even entered the building.
My head pounds as Parker and McGregor rise to their feet and shake hands, McGregor sporting a deep, troubled frown. He wanders toward his office door, scratching his jaw with an unfocused gaze. I throw Parker a questioning look. His answer is an indifferent shrug.
“Follow me,” McGregor calls from the corridor, and he leads us to a nearby lab. Inside, he glides past rows of metal benches and collects numerous items from the cupboards above an industrial-looking sink. Parker shadows his every move, but I hover by the doorway until I’m called forward to surrender four small vials of blood.
“I’ll look at the samples and let you know what I find,” he says to Parker. “How will I contact you?”
Parker grimaces and scratches the back of his head. “That ties into the other favor we need to ask you. Do you have anywhere we could stay? To lie low until we hear from you.”
“I might be able to find an unoccupied residence,” McGregor says, rubbing his forehead. His sharp eyes land on me. “Until then, I want you to stay out of sight.”
“Finally, we agree on something,” I mutter, looking at Parker.
“We’ll take anything you can give us,” he says, with an infuriatingly charismatic smile.
“Wait here. I’ll see what’s available,” McGregor says, and he leaves the room.
The moment the door closes, Parker pulls me into a hug, lifting my feet off the ground. “Didn’t I tell you he’d help us?” he says.
Our bodies are pressed together between rows of metal benches, Parker’s chest firm and warm against mine. My breath hitches and I claw at the strong forearms wrapped around my waist. “Put me down before I take you out.”
Parker stiffens and releases me, relaxing back against one of the workbenches with his arms stretched out on either side of his body. “You can say it.”
“Say what?” I ask, eyeing him.
“That I’m a genius and I was right.”
I laugh. “I’mneversaying that to you, Jimmy. Your head is gigantic.”
Parker only grins and slips his hands into his pockets. The movement shifts the fabric of his shirt over his biceps, and I look away.
The minute McGregor develops Parker’s cure, I’m going to put years of distance between us.
7Mariella
I creep across campus toward Bromley House in bare feet, avoiding the broad columns of shadow cast by towering elms and oaks. Sandstone gargoyles leer above the building’s entrance, as old as the campus itself. Lungs burning, I haul myself up the staircase to the second floor, and find Anna drinking with friends in a cozy communal living room. Warmth and laughter spill from the room, where students laze on sofas and beanbags. I hover in the doorway, clutching the metal box filled with journals to my chest. The chatter dies and seven curious pairs of eyes land on me. The muscles in my upper body stiffen.Don’t cry.
“Ella, you came,” Anna says, rushing toward me, the charms on her bracelet jingling. She’s still in her work outfit, her miniskirt a band of fabric beneath her sheer, overhanging top. She glances at my bare feet and her face falls. “Are you okay?”
I smooth my hands over my crumpled dress. I must look like… well, like I’ve escaped a burning building. The moment she reaches me, my façade crumbles. “There was a fire at my house.”
“What?” she cries, wrapping her arm around my shoulder.
My voice wavers. “Can I please stay here tonight?”
“Of course,” Anna says. She leads me away from the common area and we pause outside a door halfway along the corridor. Tongue pressed to her hot pink lips, she jostles the handle, jimmying the key left and right until the door budges with a loud groan. “This is me.”
Leaving me in the entrance, she breezes past a small, garment-strewn sofa. Her heels click on the polished floorboards as she waltzes around the room and flicks switches. The heater rumbles to life, and mushrooms of orange-hued light spill from numerous fabric-draped lampshades. She pauses at the far end of the room and draws the curtains covering a grand floor-to-ceiling window, framed by exposed brick.
“What happened?” she asks, crossing the room and ushering me further inside.
“I don’t know.” I trace the woven, gray fibers in the floor rug beneath her sofa. “I was asleep and then—” There’s a flash of ravenous flames escaping my bedroom windows. “I was outside, and my house was on fire.” More tears burn behind my eyes and Anna rushes toward me. “I think I just need to go to bed,” I mutter.
“Yeah. Of course,” Anna says, releasing me. She guides me toward two doors leading off the small living area, and points to one of them. “This is my room.” She opens the door to the right of her bedroom. “And this is the spare. Lucky my roommate Jamie dropped out last week or you’d be on the sofa.”
I nod in agreement, but nothing about my situation feels lucky. Anna flicks a switch, illuminating the room with warm light. There’s a single bed pushed against the wall to make space for a small desk. I step inside and dump the journals and my satchel on the floor.
