An Arcane Inheritance by Kamilah Cole - 34

Ellory’s scheme to get Professor Colt alone worked with only a minor snag. He didn’t have office hours as a rule, leaving that to his TAs, so she pretended to have additional questions about his spring research project. He agreed to let her come to his house, and Hudson agreed to go with her for backup. She didn’t mention how quickly he agreed or that he’d have to skip a class in order to be there. He didn’t mention the smile she couldn’t bury for the rest of the day or how confidently she laid out the questions she’d ask, knowing she’d have him behind her.

That was how she ended up in a car on her way to Colt’s house, hoping she was doing the right thing. She wasn’t particularly afraid of the professor, not now that she had some level of control over her power, but she was afraid of magic’s dangerous possibilities. She had been weakened and chased, attacked and cursed, and she worried that this was only the start of it all. Magic was powerful enough to rewrite her memories and alter her reality. It was powerful enough to kill for.

The car dropped her off at the end of the drive, but there was no sign of Hudson. She checked her phone— five minutes away , he’d texted ten minutes ago—and approached the house. No Hudson there either. She checked her phone again, and then she peered at the front door, where a scarecrow decoration winked from atop the familiar skull knocker. Had he gone inside without her, or was he late? Should she ring the doorbell? Should she walk back down the drive to wait for him?

Something felt off.

Ellory shared her location with Tai and Cody, then scrolled through her contacts until she found Hudson’s number. But before she could call him, the door swung open.

“I thought I saw someone wandering around out here,” said Colt with a welcoming smile. “Please, come in.”

Someone , not someone else . Ellory hovered on the steps, knowing that she should wait for Hudson. But what was she supposed to say? Give me a minute, Professor. I need to wait for a surprise guest? It was now or never.

Keeping one hand on the Taser Tai insisted she carry with her these days, Ellory stepped inside. She had caught Colt in the middle of grading papers. Stacks of them topped the coffee table in the study, along with a lukewarm mug of tea and a plate empty of all but a single smear of jam. As Colt left to put the kettle back on, Ellory sat in one of the armchairs. The papers had enough red swipes on them to make her nervous about taking his class in a couple of years. A low flame filled the fireplace, making the room cozy. It was impossible not to relax when faced with the combination of Colt’s soothing presence and his aesthetically pleasing home that seemed to croon that comfort was a luxury he intended to afford.

Of course, that was exactly how he wanted her to feel. His unique power was putting people at ease while feeding from them like a leech. Ellory forced herself to remember that.

Colt returned with two mugs and a tray of honey, sugar, and tea bags. She grabbed one, and he took the other, choosing an Earl Grey tea bag to mix into his water. Ellory copied his motion with oolong tea and slowly stirred honey into the drink to disguise the fact that she didn’t actually plan to take a sip. At home, she and Carol had a honey container shaped like a bear. Colt kept his in a silver-plated dish engraved with pomegranates.

“The myth of Persephone is one of my favorite classics,” he admitted when he caught her staring at it. “A woman of multitudes, the goddess of spring and the ruler of the underworld, so loved that her earthen mother cursed the world with six months of winter, so loved that her deadly husband was, by most sources, the only one who never strayed. Light and dark personified.”

“I didn’t know you liked myths,” Ellory said, holding her mug with both hands in case she needed to throw a hot beverage and run. “Do you know any about birds?”

“Birds,” Colt repeated, amused. “There are thousands, even millions, about birds. Did you want to hear about any in particular?”

“Owls. It’s for another Communiqué article.”

“Owls.” Colt drank from his own mug, shifting into a more comfortable position on the couch. “It depends on the culture. Owls can be prophetic creatures or ruinous ones. They can symbolize wisdom or calamity. In the words of Lady Macbeth, ‘It was the owl that shriek’d, the fatal bellman, which gives the stern’st good-night.’”

“So they’re associated with divination,” Ellory murmured, watching Colt closely. It felt like they were dancing on a knife-edge, and any wrong word would ensure she’d never leave this house again. “Like those free psychic readings you can get all over the place?”

The line of questioning didn’t seem to disturb him. “I can’t say I have any interest in the esoteric, Miss Morgan. Astrological charts and tarot cards and the like just seem like a way to rob us of our own free will. Maybe it’s my old age, but I want the future to remain a surprise. I want to wake up every day not knowing what to expect.”

Ellory remained silent, watching steam curl from her mug.

“Not,” Colt continued, “that there’s anything wrong with the esoteric. There are many reasons people need to believe in a higher power. Especially in times of strife.”

“Yeah, I could see that. The school hasn’t been without strife either, I’ve heard.”

Colt sighed. “What school is? Since you asked me about Malcolm Mayhew, I suppose you’ve been looking into the disappearances. Awful, awful things.”

Ellory glanced at the window, half expecting to see Hudson crossing the lawn, late but whole, pissed that she’d dived into trouble without him again. But this turn in the conversation made a lump form in her throat, the bad feeling she’d had outside following her here. Hudson should be here. Hudson would be here. With or without a phone, he’d find his way here.

Her grip tightened around the mug to keep her hands from trembling. “There hasn’t been a disappearance since, right?”

“Not to my knowledge.” Colt finished his tea and set the empty mug on the tray. “Unless, of course, you count Mister Graves.”

Ellory froze. “What?”

“That was a joke, Miss Morgan. Perhaps in bad taste, given the subject matter… My apologies,” said Colt. “I meant only that he missed my last salon without a word.”

Ellory set down her mug, unconvinced. Her heart pounded against her rib cage. Hudson should be here. “Have you heard from him today?”

“I haven’t. Why?”

She wanted to overturn the tray and demand answers, but there wasn’t a hint of recognition in Colt’s eyes. Either he was a remarkable liar, or he genuinely had no idea what she was hinting at—and, most likely, he thought he was indulging her in some random tangent. She didn’t dare get into her more specific questions without Hudson— should be here, should be here, should be here —and yet she felt like she’d hit another dead end by coming.

Maybe the same curse that had taken her memory had also taken Colt’s. If the School for the Unseen Arts was willing to kill students to protect its privacy, they might have cast spells of forgetting on the former deans as well. People too important to kill, but with too much information to be allowed to roam the streets.

No matter what, she was wasting her time here. She had a Taser, hot tea, and her screaming instincts, which wasn’t enough to keep her safe without Hudson and his magic. Colt was older, more experienced, and that made him too dangerous to follow through on her plan right now. Eventually, she might be able to get him somewhere public. Until then, she got to her feet. “I just remembered that I’m late for something. Thank you so much for your time, Professor. I’ll email you my questions about the research when I have a free moment.”

Colt blinked. “Well, all right. Is something wrong, Miss Morgan? If you’re in some sort of trouble…”

His kindness only terrified her more.

“I don’t want to take any more time from your grading.” She was already halfway to the door, her thoughts tumbling over one another. “See you at the salon.”

But even when she made it outside, she could still feel his eyes burning into her back.

***

Ellory’s call to Hudson went to voicemail, so she sent him a text to call her later. She spent the rest of the day until her shift at work theorizing in circles and waiting for Stasie to come back so she could demand, once again, that she turn over her grandfather’s phone number. As usual, her roommate let her down, and Ellory went to serve coffee to the exhausted masses with no more answers than she’d started her day with.

She was so close, that was the worst thing. The puzzle was almost complete, but the parts that were missing were just large enough to keep her from seeing the whole picture. She’d written everything down in her notebook, hoping that writing notes would help shake a realization loose, but all it had done was make her wrist ache. She needed to talk to more people. She needed to do more research. She needed at least one more séance, with another member of the Lost Eight.

She needed Hudson to tell her he was okay , but her text went unanswered.

Ellory got back to her dorm at eleven at night, smelling like coffee beans and caramel sauce. Stasie was already asleep, a sleep mask protecting her eyes from the light. Instead of shaking her awake, Ellory sat in the hallway to call Hudson one more time, hoping he hadn’t been summoned home again.

“The number you have dialed is out of service…”

She frowned and ended the call. Tried again.

“The number you have dialed is out of service…”

Again.

“The number you have dialed is out of service…”

She checked her call log, but it read GRAVES (3) like normal. She tried Boone once, twice, three times, but the same bizarre message greeted her each time. Boone was one thing, but Hudson’s number being out of service made no sense. Even when he’d last been home, her messages had gone through and she’d reached his voicemail just this afternoon, full though his inbox had been. To be out of service now…

The strangeness of it made Ellory too anxious to sleep. She rose with the sun to take a taxi to Hudson’s, but immediate action didn’t soothe her the way it usually did. The closer she got to his off-campus housing, the harder it was to breathe. Her body was in the midst of dealing with some horrible truth that her mind had yet to catch up with. That clawing dread would choke her before she ever got to see that Hudson was all right.

Hudson had to be all right. He had to be.

The car had barely stopped before Ellory was surging out and jogging up to the door. Hudson’s Barracuda wasn’t in the driveway, which didn’t help her shaky nerves. Ellory managed to ring the doorbell only once, but she paced restlessly on the porch until she heard footsteps approaching.

Liam opened the door dressed in a matching slate-gray pajama set. His feet were bare, and his hair was smushed on one side of his head, as if he’d been sleeping on it. He blinked at her in confusion. “What are you doing here, Ellory?”

“I’m looking for Hudson. Do you know where he’s gone?”

Liam’s eyebrows drew together. “Who?”

Ellory wasn’t in the mood for jokes. She stepped forward until Liam backed away to let her inside. “I can just wait in his room,” she said, leaning down to unlace her sneakers. “I don’t want to interrupt whatever you were doing before I got here.”

“In whose room?” Liam asked.

“This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not kidding. And, not to be rude, but do you know what time it is?”

“Hudson will be—”

“Okay, seriously”—Liam grabbed her shoulder, keeping her from moving deeper into the house—“who’s Hudson? I’m the only person here.”

Ellory’s stomach dropped. She turned slowly, studying Liam’s face. He was serious. She forced herself to sound calm. “Hudson Graves? He’s—you don’t know someone named Hudson Graves ?”

“I don’t,” Liam confirmed.

“What about Boone Priestley?”

Liam smiled drowsily. “Are these hot goths?”

Ellory stared at him until he yawned.

“If you’re staying, I’ll put the coffee on,” he said, rubbing his left eye. “In fact, you should stay. You sound—I’m worried about you.”

Ellory allowed him to deposit her on the couch. As soon as he was out of view, she left the house in a daze. Hudson’s phone number was out of service. Liam—his ex, his roommate—had never heard of him or Boone. Part of her hoped that if she waited there long enough, Boone would reopen the door, laugh at her for believing in his and Liam’s practical joke, and tell her that Hudson had gone to the gym or into town or somewhere, anywhere .

The door remained closed. Everything was still.

She walked down the road until she could no longer be seen from the windows. She sent a text to Tai, to Cody, to Stasie, even to the one person she knew from con. law: have you seen hudson today? Each one replied the same way: who?

Each one struck her like a blow.

The journey from the house back to campus flattened to nothing. One minute, Ellory was summoning a taxi. The next minute, she was in Graves Library—which was missing the plaque she sneered at every day—searching ancestry sites and local newspapers, searching Forbes and class records. Hudson Graves, twenty-one, senior at Warren University, didn’t exist, as far as the internet was concerned. His parents had one child—Cairo Graves—who had never attended Warren—or, indeed, any college at all.

The next time she checked her phone, his number was gone.

Ellory blinked, and she was in her dorm room, searching her shelves for the books Hudson had lent her and finding nothing. She sank onto her bed, wishing that she’d taken a picture of him or a picture of the two of them together, something she could hold on to as proof of this tear in reality.

Her surroundings blurred. Tears fell, first one and two and then a steady stream of sobs that tore her throat raw. All the times she’d felt alone before now couldn’t possibly compare to this hollowness. It was like losing a limb that she kept trying to walk on, like breaking a heart that she’d thought was already too broken to work. Ellory wiped angrily at her wet cheeks, but her body continued to shake because nothing made sense, nothing made any fucking sense anymore.

Ellory screamed into her pillow until her voice went hoarse and she could finally think.

Boone had warned her that he would protect Hudson at all costs. Had he done this? Had he dropped them both into some liminal space where she couldn’t reach them, leaving her the sole victim of the Old Masters’ ire?

She rejected the theory as soon as it formed. She’d seen Boone’s magic, and it left copies behind to fill the void left by their absence. Hudson and Boone hadn’t just disappeared; they had been erased from existence, from memory.

RemƎmber.

Someone—Colt, perhaps—was messing with her. She’d gotten too close to the Old Masters and the School for the Unseen Arts, and Hudson had suffered for it. They wanted her isolated and afraid. They wanted her weak and doubtful. She was outside their control, and that made her a problem.

All her life, Ellory had tried her best to be accommodating. She was Black and she was a woman, and that intersection made her determined to be polite, decorous, unproblematic. Never sassy or angry. Never too sexual or too prudish. Never a clown and never a nerd. She welded herself into the mold society left open for her, and she tried not to ask for anything more.

What had it gotten her? A safety net of a person that only she remembered. A thousand questions with answers that would make her sound like she should be committed. A nightmare she couldn’t wake up from that had taken the one thing she hadn’t realized she had to give.

No more.

She could not, would not accommodate this. She could not, would not accept it.

She was tired of making herself small so that other people could feel larger than life. She was tired of lies and secrets, of being controlled by hidden figures in the dark. She was tired of feeling scared and powerless, especially at the hands of people scared of her power.

If they wanted a problem, then she would become a problem—and she would make them regret that they had pushed her to this point.