“Maybe if we were inside…” I say, as if I’m only just considering it. I meander down the lane between the offices and the condo building.
Cole stalks after me. “What are you doing, Miss Devine? I’d rather not be dragged into a crime.”
He sounds incredulous even as he says it. Who would imagine Elodie Devine breaking and entering?
I reach for the handle on the side door. It jars against my initial nudge, and a jolt of panic skitters through my pulse.
It’s locked.
Thankfully all my missions for Uncle Nik left me with quicker wits than I’d have had that first time if I’d faced thissetback then. Before my problem becomes obvious, I direct a subtle spurt of ephemera into the locking mechanism and keep twisting.
The handle turns as if it was never locked. The door swings open with a gust of cloying cleaning fluid smell.
I glance over my shoulder at Professor Raith. “We’re not going to disturb anyone. Are you coming or not?”
“Miss Devine?—”
Not would definitely make my life easier. Ignoring his protest, I slip inside.
Cole hustles after me, but I pull my own cloak of concealing ephemera around me so I don’t have to worry about any distance between us. I stride into the hall beyond the doorway, pretend to scan it for clues, and head straight to the stairwell I already knew was there.
The place looks exactly the same as in my memories, all cream walls and moss-green linoleum. The clicking of keyboards and soft chatter carry from the rooms we pass.
The echoes of the past set my stomach churning, sending more bile up my throat. I swallow hard and inhale slowly, but my heart keeps thumping faster.
It’s fine. I’m not here to murder anyone today.
Just to watch.
It might not even be the same woman. It’s been almost three years since I saw her that one time in my reality. There must be thousands of middle-aged women with graying black hair in the city.
My silent reassurances don’t settle my nerves either.
I peek into the stairwell to confirm it’s empty before heading in and up. It too looks the same: a drearier off-white than the walls below, scuff marks down the middle of the steps, an artificial lemon scent lacing the still air.
This is different, I tell myself as I clamber up the stairs.Everything about this is different.There’s the thud of Cole’s feet on the steps behind me, the school uniform skirt grazingmy thighs rather than the flexible yoga pants I changed into before.
And most importantly, no vial of poison forming a small weight in its pocket against my chest.
Still, with every step my ribs constrict around my lungs.
I reach the fourth-floor landing and spot the small, thick window that lets in a square of dull sunlight. My feet stall under me. My breath jars to a halt.
Uncle Nik’s voice buzzes through my earpiece. “The car is almost there, Elodie. You remember everything we’ve gone over.”
I stand by the window, the tip of my nose touching the cool glass, the scene below blurring before my eyes. My fingers tighten around the vial I’m clutching by my side. “Drink it as soon as the car stops. I know.”
Drink it and aim the fatal searing in my gut at a woman I’ve never seen in person, only the photographs Nik showed me. Drink it anddie.
A pang of horror propels more words up my throat. “Uncle Nik?—”
He speaks before I can go on, probably predicting my qualms. “You’re doing this for the whole world, Elodie. Protecting everyone in it from this menace. Protecting the matches you care so deeply about from having to know what you really did. I know you’re strong enough. Here she comes! Don’t hesitate.”
The ivory sedan glides into view. Within one thump of my heart, it’s rolled to a stop at the edge of the plaza.
I toss back the contents of the vial. The liquid scorches my throat and claws its way into my stomach.
My organs seize.
