I have another avenue of investigation open to me, if I choose to take it.
I debate with myself for several seconds, braced in my chair, before pushing out of it and heading to the administrative rooms.
Most of the lights in the main office have dimmed. A lone assistant taps away at her computer in a back corner. She doesn’t look up from her screen as she nods at me in acknowledgment.
I’m not sure she even registers what I took from the drawer I opened. It shouldn’t matter anyway—all teaching staff have access to the master locker key.
The student lockers are enchanted to respond to their owner, but of course the staff need a way of opening them if matters of concern come up. The headmaster himself accompanied the police to open up Kenneth’s locker for their search a couple of days ago.
They found nothing of interest and took what was there, but it isn’t his belongings I’m looking to inspect now.
Elodie’s student records included her locker number. It’s halfway down a now-empty hallway where the silence amplifies the rap of my carefully polished Oxfords against the tiled floor.
I stop at her locker and take another glance around. No one’s here to see me. And if someone arrives, I can invent an excuse.
I need to know what we’re really in for with this match who’s invaded both my and my brother’s lives.
A flick of the card disengages the lock. I tug the door open and peer into the narrow space.
Elodie hasn’t left much behind. A few textbooks stand in a stack on the upper shelf next to a pencil case. One of her school sweaters dangles from a hook, but I saw her wearing that just a day ago.
I’m looking for something she wouldn’t have touched in a while.
My height means I don’t have to push up on my toes to see down the top shelf. I ease the books to the side and spot an odd shape at the back.
I dig out a pair of sandals.
They’re white and strappy, some brand that probably costs more than my monthly paycheck. And she would have bought them on a whim, not scrimping and bargain-huntinglike I have to do to keep my wardrobe up to Luminary standards.
Were they left behind when some afterschool venture fell through? I can’t imagine her wearing these anywhere in recent weather. They were probably forgotten back in the early fall if not even longer ago.
Perfect for my purposes.
With another cautious glance around me, I ease off my gloves. My bare skin, bond mark and all, settles against the delicate leather straps.
I close my eyes and narrow all my concentration down to the tickle of ephemera contained in the two sandals.
Arch laughter wavers through my senses, followed by a whirl of motion. Did she dance in these?
With whom? My shoulders stiffen at the thought of some boy with his hands on her.
Shoving aside the waft of jealousy, I delve my awareness deeper.
Snippets of chatter, all female voices, pass through my mind. Talk about clothes and family and school, flippantly superficial.
Music tingles through the fragments of conversation. A brief rush of exhilaration sweeps by.
There’s a twinge of satisfaction as hands pick this pair off a shelf amid rows of other shoes. A breeze tangling through her hair as she tosses the dark strands.
And that’s all.
No matter how far I reach, I can’t dredge up one shred of the apprehension and defiance that’s radiated off Elodie during our most recent interactions. But it’s not only that.
There’s a… bubbly quality to all these impressions, with a tang like champagne and a loftiness of spirit, exactly fitting the girl I thought I knew from my classes.
It doesn’t feel at all like the Elodie I’ve clashed with in thepast month. Not just a shift in mood, but as if something about her very essence has changed.
I open my eyes and frown at the sandals. Ithoughtthere was something off about the energies around her, but I didn’t realize it was so… fundamental.
