Page 63 of Shadows of Perl

“All we used to have was each other.” Mom speaks a language only I can understand—she understands how to be invisible, how to survive. “I have to find her. I stood up for myself. I hope she’ll be proud of me somehow.”

“And if she’s not?” Adola watches me.

The thought makes my knees weak. “I have to get going. You have a chance to make this a House you want to be a part of.”

Adola tucks her lower lip. I make my way to the door, flexing my fingers, which are covered in smooth skin, not bruises. Yesterday, Beaulah had me destroy a dozen enhancer stones. Then she brought me pieces of magical armor to unleash toushana on. Those were much harder to decompose, but after a few hours, I managed to turn the metal to a pile of broken shards. And my hands still haven’t purpled.

“I’m still figuring out your aunt. But she’s not as awful as she seems.”

Adola’s head cocks.

I shrug.

“It was nice of you to come by.” She crosses her bedroom, then opens the door.

“Maybe I’ll see you around,” I say.

“Maybe.”

The door closes, and I slip behind one of the trick bookcases. If Beaulah finds out I’m leaving, I don’t think she’ll be happy about it. In the bowels of the estate, I hurry until I find an exit. Cold night air hits me as I dash toward the water gardens. Once I clear the walls of the estate, I pull at my cloak. To Fairfield.

Goodbye, Hartsboro. Hopefully for good.

* * *

The quaint eatery is one of many in a shopping strip in Fairfield, about an hour from Hartsboro. Or, in my case, the breath of time it takes to cloak. Across the street is the luxurious hotel where the ball will be held. I arrive early and watch the nearby streets for loiterers to make sure I haven’t been followed—and keep an eye out for Order members. The coffee shop swells with patrons for the lunch rush, only to empty again. No one lingers too long.

Once the sky begins to dim, I enter and find a booth in a corner. I hold up the menu; it covers my face well. A waitress asks me what I’d like to order, twice, before the bell chimes and the door to the coffee shop swings open. Abby enters, wrapped in a long, dark dress and a shawl that complements her bright eyes. My grip on my chair slacks, and it takes every ounce of my self-control to not run and hug her. She is skirting between tables when the door chimes again. Her boyfriend, Mynick, enters in a dark suit; his greasy bangs are unmistakable. I shift in my seat.

Abby joins me at the booth tucked far in the corner. I put my back to the door and keep the collar of my coat up.

“Quell!” she squeals, reaching across the table for my hands.

“It’s so good to see you.” I squeeze back and try to exhale. I need to tell Abby the truth about my toushana someday soon. But today is not that day. “Thank you for coming, Abs, really. Juggling this with everything else you have going on.”

“My internship’s been pretty flexible.” She turns a yellow-gemmed bracelet around her wrist. “Getting time away isn’t ruffling too many feathers.”

“Are you still finishing by next Season?”

“Yes.” She pats her backpack beside her on the seat. “As long as the world doesn’t fall apart first.”

Mynick slides into the booth beside Abs. And I recall how much Jordan didn’t like him that one time they talked.

“Hi, Mynick.” I hold on to the lip of the bench. Last I remember, he promised Abby he was going to try to get out of becoming a Dragun. Why would she bring him?! My eyes snap to the slit of fabric at his throat, and my heart patters faster. No coin there.

“How have you been?” I ask him.

He fidgets. “Oh, you know, studying, research, practicing all kinds of things.” He smiles darkly. “And trying to keep this one out of trouble.”

Abby looks between us, her fingers stroking the Third Rite scar inches below her clavicle.

“Has my grandmother tried to summon you again with the trace?”

“No. And I haven’t gone south at all.”

“So you’re doing okay?”

“A little sore. My scar started throbbing.”

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