On the other hand, how can I leave them completely in the dark with no way to protect themselves? They need to know the threat isn’t gone.
I lift my chin. “I think someone put him up to the attack or was at least supporting him. He mentioned a ‘she’ who’d told him things about me.”
Salvatore’s head jerks toward me. His voice comes out in a growl. “What? There’s more of these assholes?—”
Cole cuts in, as brusque as before. “This is an incredible story, but it doesn’t explain how you ended up looking like a half-drowned kitten on the side of the river.”
I manage to will the edge out of my voice. “During thefight, we ran onto one of the footbridges up near my neighborhood. Kenneth pushed Salvatore into the river. I waded in to help pull him out and ended up swept up in the current too. I—I lost my glove. I was trying to keep his head above water and touched his face, and the bond sparked.”
“And I’ve got a badass fucking glim.” Salvatore rubs his hands together. “You’re looking at lucent society’s newest alchemist. I summoned that wall into the river”—he points at the ridge of clay-like substance arcing through the water behind us—“and made fire easy as this.” He snaps his fingers and grins. “That’s bloom all the way, baby.”
My queasiness twists into a knot in my gut. He wouldn’t be so pleased about his glim if he knew mine is raw blight.
Glims among matches usually coordinate. The rare times that a lucent with a bloom glim has ended up matched with a blighter, any kids they have are born with no magical ability at all. When it comes to passing on our supernatural talents, my pairing with both Salvatore and Byron will be a dud.
Cole doesn’t even look at Salvatore. His gray eyes bore into me. “And what incredible power did you wake up?”
For once, I don’t mind that Salvatore speaks for me. “Elodie was too busy saving me to notice. Her glim must be badass too, just a quieter kind.” He gives me a reassuring hug.
Of course he’ll think I’m worried that I supposedly didn’t feel my innate power activate. Little does he know how well it did, transferring the cuts Kenneth raked through my arm onto Salvatore’s while stealing his energy to heal me.
Cole’s expression stays skeptical, which I’ll admit is fair this time. He opens his mouth, but his brother gets in before him.
“Where’s Kenneth now?” Asher asks. “We should call the lucent police—if he follows you here?—”
Oh, goody. I have to explain that parttoo.
I swallow hard. “We don’t need to worry about him anymore. After he pushed Salvatore off the bridge, he tackled me. I was shoving his arm away so he wouldn’t stab me, and instead he… stabbed himself. Badly. I think he’s dead.”
For the second time, all three of the newcomers gape at me, this time at the idea of what I’ve done rather than Kenneth’s killer tendencies.
Byron recovers first, all practical authority. “We should make sure he’s dead. Which bridge is it? The one not far from Oak Street?”
As I nod, Cole shifts his glower to Byron, maybe annoyed that the guy eight years his junior and his student is taking charge of the situation. He obviously doesn’t have any better suggestions, though.
He waves to the north. “Let’s go, then. Put your glove back on—we don’t want any more glims activated without proper precautions. And Mr. Cosgrave, douse that fire before it spreads.”
Salvatore snorts but dismisses the flames and disperses the coals back into the soil with a flick of his hand. The other men pause at the clear show of his glim’s power. Then Cole strides forward.
We all hustle along after the professor through the night.
The fire has dried my shirt and leggings, but the fabric clings stiffly to my limbs. Without the warmth of the flames, I can’t stop myself from shivering.
A subtle current of warmth seeps over my body. The tingle of the conducted ephemera comes with a familiar resonance that brings a lump to my throat.
Asher noticed I was cold and conjured a little heat to wrap around me. Like he might have years ago in my own reality when we were best friends, even though in this world we barely know each other.
That’s just how kind and compassionate every version of him is.
Cole’s trenchcoat flaps around his legs in a gust of wind. As we tramp under the high bridge Salvatore and I careened beneath in the river’s hold, he sighs. “This is a fucking mess I didn’t need.”
I’m not sure how much he’s grumbling about trekking around the river valley in the middle of the night, about the attack I faced, or about our matching. It could be all three.
Whatever the case, I don’t have much patience left, especially for the man who’s been so impatient withmeover the past few weeks.
My words come out tart. “Yes, I also would have preferred not to be stalked and almost murdered.”
Cole’s attention veers to me with his piercing stare. I glare right back at him.
