So he stood a moment longer at the window of the café where hislife had teetered on a precipice, and he had felt himself begin to fall—and despite all the chaos and pain that had followed, he could not possibly find it in himself to regret it. He could never regrether.
Then he turned away, shivering in the cold, and headed back to his car alone. Hoping that she would be all right, and that somehow, someday, he would see her again.
Epilogue
Seven Years Later
As the auditorium for the Boston Cultural Society filled, the high ceiling created a cavernous echo of chatter and the sound of programs being folded and rifled through. The room fit three hundred, and as the sign on the door announced to the audience entering, it was sold out. Each member of the audience clutched their hardcover copy ofThe Mechanical Mind.They were told that Ellsbeth Storer would be doing a signing after the interview event had ended.
It was the type of turnout any publicist would dream of for an author, but Brianna was still on edge. This was the final stop of Ellsbeth’s book tour, and Brianna wanted to send it off on a high note. But the moderator for tonight’s event was a wild card, and Brianna did not like having any variables outside her control.
Sitting in the front row, she reviewed the evening’s program, which featured a small black-and-white photograph of Ellsbeth in a turtleneck, not quite smiling and not looking toward the camera. She was only thirty-one years old, but her résumé was already staggering. Brianna had written the short bio herself:Dr. Ellsbeth Storer (BA, DAA, PhD) is the author of the number one bestselling bookThe Mechanical Mind,which has been praised as “the singular work of literature, psychology, and science that will come to define arcane mechanicals for the 21st century.” It has been translated into twenty-five languages and sold more than a million copies around the world. Storer received her doctorate of arcane arts from Newlyn University, and her PhD from Oxford,where she was also a visiting lecturer. She recently served on the White House Committee for Arcane Oversight. Storer divides her time between New York City and London. She lives with her black cat, Juliet.The final sentence had been Brianna’s suggestion to help humanize Ellsbeth, a concession her client had made only begrudgingly.
In the eight months since the book’s release, Ellsbeth had appeared on late-night talk shows and popular podcasts, in the process becoming that rarest animal: a genuine academic celebrity, who had written a book that dazzled both critics and readers, and who attracted crowds of hundreds in every city she visited.
Boston was strange, though. At every other event, the moderator interviewing Ellsbeth onstage was a celebrity or massive cultural figure. In Chicago, it had been a former First Lady; in Los Angeles, the movie star who had read theThe Mechanical Mindaudiobook. But most people in the audience that day in Boston had never heard of the man who would be appearing alongside Ellsbeth. The name of his book, maybe, sounded familiar, but the man himself was, to put it politely, a footnote. His biography in the program was just a few sentences long:T. M. Rawlins is the author ofThe Arcane and the Ordinary.He is a former lecturer at Cambridge University and Newlyn University. Currently, he teaches at Coleridge School in Boston.
Brianna had been skeptical when Ellsbeth insisted that she invite Thaddeus Rawlins to be the moderator for the event.I haven’t talked to him in years, and I think I would be a little embarrassed to reach out myself. Do you think you could get in touch with him?Ellsbeth had asked over email.
Are you sure?Brianna had emailed back.I don’t want to use the phrase “has-been,” but I think we could easily find someone higher profile for such a prestigious event. The new dean of arcane mechanicals at Harvard already inquired to get a copy of the book, and we have an in with Helena Thompson (!) who’s teaching at Tufts now. Obviously I also lovedThe Arcane and the Ordinaryback when it came out, but Thaddeus Rawlins is sort of under the radar these days. Obviously, still happy to reach out if you want!
Ellsbeth affirmed that yes, she did want, and Brianna made it happen, because that was her job.
The lights in the auditorium dimmed and the crowd burst intoapplause when Ellsbeth appeared onstage, wearing a designer dress and black boots with a long, pointed heel. Brianna was impressed. Ellsbeth always looked impeccably put together, unimpeachably professional, but tonight was something else. A dress that was cut a little lower. A bolder red lipstick. And Brianna could swear she must have gotten a haircut that day.
In stark contrast, the event’s moderator, T. M. Rawlins, wore a blazer pilling at the sleeves. The gray in his hair had begun an aggressive occupying offensive across his head, and his stubble, though well trimmed, was almost entirely gray as well. He settled into the chair opposite Ellsbeth, and Brianna felt herself relax slightly; even though he wasn’tfamous,Rawlins was clearly comfortable in front of a crowd. He had a nice, deep voice, and his questions were thoughtful and intelligent. More than once, Ellsbeth began what had become a pat answer before she stopped herself, paused, and answered with new candor and insight.
Brianna had to admit, Ellsbeth was right; inviting Rawlins had been a good move. Over the past few weeks, Ellsbeth’s onstage answers to questions had become flat and rote; she repeated the same few talking points and winning lines that she knew would lead to an audience’s applause. But something about Rawlins was bringing Ellsbeth back to life. She was lively and engaged, leaning forward and looking over at Rawlins as she spoke to him, almost as if she was unaware she was performing for a room of hundreds.
“I wanted to make sure this book was something I was proud of,” Ellsbeth said. “I knew I could’ve put something out sooner, but it would’ve felt like a momentary cash grab, after…you know, everything that had happened with Banestooth Club.” There were a few sympathetic murmurs from the audience, and upon hearing them, Ellsbeth turned toward the crowd and pointed at Rawlins. “In case anyone doesn’t remember, he’s the professor who saved my life.” This was met with a chorus of applause, which Rawlins waved off, embarrassed.
Ellsbeth continued, “I knew my story was interesting and scandalous, and a publisher would have been happy enough to pump something out quickly that might have sold well enough before it was dispatched to bargain bins and oblivion. But I didn’t want to be defined as the girl who survived what had happened.”
“You’ve certainly proved to the world that you are much more than that,” Rawlins said.
Ellsbeth took a breath, considering him. “Well, thank you. After it happened…I knew I had an opportunity to write something meaningful, and I didn’t want to waste my chance, so…I spent years making it perfect. I blew past my first deadline—sorry, Deborah!—and my second deadline, making sure this book was everything I was capable of.”
The audience applauded again, and Ellsbeth smiled out at them with professionally whitened teeth.
“A book is all-consuming…Did you find it hard to make time for a personal life?” Rawlins asked.
“I mean, I wasn’t acompletehermit,” Ellsbeth said, with a self-effacing laugh. Laughter from the audience. “But…Yes, I was consumed with my work. And the things I’d been through…there was no one around who had any idea what that was like. Maybe that was for the best, because the isolationdidhelp me focus. But if I’m honest, it was a little lonely.”
Brianna squinted, studying Ellsbeth closely. She had never seen such raw, transparent emotion on her client’s face.
“I’m sorry you were lonely,” Rawlins said quietly, with an empathy so genuine it felt almostembarrassing,as though everyone present were witnessing a moment far too intimate to happen onstage.
“What about you?” Ellsbeth said. “Have you had time to…socialize with your teaching schedule?”
“No,” Rawlins said. “Not that I’m so busy, mind you, but I’m certain my best days of…socializing are behind me.” To Brianna’s relief, Rawlins then cleared his throat and turned outward, broadening the conversation to invite the crowd back in. “Well, your work is extraordinary—” Applause from the audience. “—and it’s groundbreaking, the way you were able to marry ideas from the arcane arts with psychology. An understanding of the way the human mind and body interact.”
“The original ideas—the linking of the body and the mind—actually all came from my thesis. I did my DAA dissertation on a controversial branch of arcane mechanicals called writ magic: the ability to control someone else physically.
“It was a struggle for a while—obviously, with such a potentiallydangerous field, there were challenges, and some people didn’t think I should be permitted to study it at all. Writ magic is illegal, and I want to be clear, I’ve worked very hard with the academic community and legal systems to ensure it’s properly regulated. But fortunately, the dean at Newlyn, where I got my degree, was incredibly supportive of my work. Writing that thesis was one of the most challenging periods of my life. I had a few fellowships revoked when they found out what I was studying, and even though Dean Lennox supported me, not everyone at Newlyn did.”
Rawlins’s brow was furrowed. He looked at Ellsbeth appraisingly. “Your time at Newlyn…that was a challenging period?”
“Yes,” Ellsbeth said. “It was. For a lot of different reasons. But I learned a lot. About arcane mechanicals and about myself.”
