“You’re a good liar,” he says after a moment. “A good liar. A good thief.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say. The words tumble from my lips, so frantic it’s humiliating. Of all the things I worried about with today’s meeting, him figuring out the truth wasnotone of them. I’ve never prepared for a scenario like this.
A cocky liar. A cocky thief. That’s what I am. So arrogant with my magic that I assumed I’d never get caught.
“Secora,” he says.
“Cora,” I snap back. I’m flustered now, so unsteady there’s no hope of regaining control. All I can do is get the hells out of here. I throw my bag over my shoulder and speed for the door. “My name is Cora.”
“Say it,” he says. He rises from his seat, crossing to stand beside me.
I freeze, hand on the doorknob. The entire cafe blurs around me, until there is only me, this door, and Elliot’s heavy presence next to me. He places a hand near the top of the door, sealing it.
“Say it,” he repeats. “Admit you stole my memories.”
Say it, freak.
How many times did Harrison say those same words to me? How many more times did he say it that I can’t even remember?
A single expression, and I am a child again. The truth is sour in my mouth, desperate to be spoken.
I stole your memories, I want to say.I’m sorry.
But weak as I may feel, I amnota child anymore.
“Move,” I say instead.
To my surprise, he does. His hands fall slack at his sides as he steps to the side.
I open the door, only to pause with one foot outside the cafe. My heart pounds, but I can’t bring myself to leave. Elliot and I need each other.
“Look,” I say, letting the door fall shut again. I turn back to face Elliot, unsurprised he’s still watching me. “I don’t know what you think, but?—”
“I have a friend,” he interrupts. I’m too caught off guard to be offended. “His name is Henry. He’s brilliant with magic, with spellcasting. We might’ve filled that entire vial if he’d been here.”
I don’t say anything, unsure where he’s going with this.
“He might even have ideas on how to increase production,” Elliot continues. “I can ask him to help. He’s trustworthy. Won’t cause problems.”
“Why would you do that?” I ask, terrified I already know.
“Memories,” he says. “I’ll bring my friend. You give me a memory. One for every vial we complete.”
“Absolutely not,” I say. I’m back to the door, twisting the handle.
“Please, Cora,” he says. His voice is somehow both familiar and entirely new. It fills me with a warmth I forgot existed.
I wish I could say it’s logic that makes my decision. A third person could make a huge difference, especially if he’s as good as Elliot claims. It’s a completely rational argument, but that’s not why I agree. For the first time in longer than I can remember, this decision comes straight from my heart. An organ I thought died twelve years ago, but apparently still clings to life.
“Fine,” I whisper. “One memory for one vial. ButIget to pick the memory.”
Before Elliot responds, I shove out the door and into the blistering wind.
12
WE ARE NOT FRIENDS
ELLIOT
