Хлоя Нейл - Hexbound

“You’re giving me trouble,” I told him. “I knew I saw you on the street the other day. Why are you following me around?”

“Because we need to talk.”

At least he wasn’t going to deny it. “We have nothing to talk about.”

“We have firespell to talk about.”

“No,” I corrected, “we have firespell, period. End of story. There’s nothing that needs to be talked about.”

“Really.” His voice couldn’t have been drier. “Because you’re an expert in using it? In manipulating it? In creating the spark?”

“In creating the—”

“The spark,” he interrupted. “You know nothing about your power. And that’s ridiculously dangerous.”

I crossed my arms and huffed out a breath. “And what—you should be the one to teach me?”

The look he gave back suggested that was exactly what he thought he should do.

But then his eyes clouded. “The world isn’t nearly as black and white as you believe, Lily.”

I’d actually begun to ask him what he meant until I remembered who he was and whose side he was on. That made me turn my back and start down the sidewalk again. I wouldn’t run away from him. Not again. But that didn’t mean I was stupid enough to stand around with a sworn enemy.

“Quit following me,” I called back, loud enough for him to hear. “We’re done.”

“No, we’re not. Not by a long shot.”

I shook my head, forcing my feet to the ground even as my knees wobbled. But that didn’t stop me from glancing back when I was inside the gate.

This time, he was gone.

I kept my head down in class, my eyes on my books, glad that Scout sat behind me.

I wasn’t sure I should tell her about Sebastian—either that he had been following me, or that he’d tried to save me from Veronica.

He’d tried to intervene.

What was that about?

I mean, he was a Reaper. The sworn enemy of Adepts, the folks who thought it was okay to buy a few more years of magic with someone else’s soul.

And yet he was also the guy who’d given me the clue to using firespell and who’d stepped into a near-fight with Veronica.

Something strange was going on. I wasn’t sure what—I certainly didn’t think he was some kind of Robin Hood of magic—but whatever it was, I wasn’t ready to tell Scout.

No, this was going to need a little more time.

I hoped I had it.

Dinner was Tex-Mex food, which St. Sophia’s managed pretty well for a snotty private boarding school in the middle of downtown Chicago. And as a vegetarian, it was usually a favorite of mine. Tex-Mex at St. Sophia’s meant tortillas and beans and peppers and cheese, so it was usually easy to whip up something meat-free.

We had an hour after dinner before study hall for Scout and, according to Foley,

art studio for me, so we headed back to our suite for some time off—and so I could get my materials together.

When we got in, Amie’s door was open, the light off. Lesley’s door was shut,

cello music drifting from beneath the door. She played the cello and spent a lot of time practicing. Luckily, she was really good at it, so it was kind of like having a tiny orchestra in the room. Not a bad way to live, as it turned out.

When Scout and I walked in and shut the door behind us, the music came to a stop. A few seconds later, Lesley emerged from her room. She wore a pale green dress with a yellow cardigan over it, her blond hair tucked behind her ears, her feet tucked into canvas Mary Janes. She stood in her doorway for a moment, blinking blue eyes at us.

Lesley was definitely on our side, but she was still a little odd.

“What’s up, Barnaby?” Scout asked, dropping onto the couch in the common room. “Sounds like the cello playing is going pretty well.”

Lesley shrugged. “I’m having trouble with some of the passages. Not as vibrant as I want them to be. Practice, practice, practice.”

I took a seat on the other end of the couch. “It sounds good to the plebeians.”

“Ooh, nice use of today’s Euro-history lesson,” Scout complimented.

“I am all up in the vocab.”

Lesley walked around the couch and sat down on the floor, her skirt fluttering as she moved. She wasn’t an Adept, but she was pale and blond and had a very old-

fashioned look about her. It wasn’t hard to imagine that she’d stepped out of some fairy tale and into modern-day Chicago.

“How’s it going with your secret midnight missions?”

Although she wasn’t totally up to speed on the Adept drama, she knew Scout and I were involved in something extracurricular at night.

“The missions are going,” Scout said. “Some nights are better than others.” She bobbed her head toward Amie’s door. “Amie’s little minion saw us coming in on Monday night. Has she said anything about it to you?”

Lesley shook her head. “Not to me. But I heard Veronica tell M.K. and Amie about it. She said Lily was out with a boy.” Lesley looked at me. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Kinda,” I said, my cheeks heating up.

“They say anything else?” Scout asked. “Or did they believe us?”

Lesley shrugged. “Mostly they wondered who the boy was. They didn’t think you’d been here long enough to meet a boy.”

“Our Parker moves pretty fast.”

I kicked Scout in the leg. “Stifle it,” I said, then smiled at Lesley. “Thanks for the update.”

“I could do some opp research if you want.”

Scout and I exchanged a puzzled glance. “Opp research?” she asked. “What’s that?”

“Opposition research. I could follow them around, eavesdrop, take notes. Maybe find something you could blackmail them with?”

“For a nice girl, Les, you’ve definitely got a dark side.”

Lesley smiled grandly—and a little wickedly. “I know. People look at me and they don’t really think I’m up to it. But I’m definitely up to it.”

“We will mos’ def’ keep that in mind,” Scout said. “But for now, since we’ve got an hour”—she paused to pick up the remote control for the small wall-mounted television—“how about a little oblivion?”

I gave her forty-five minutes before I headed back to my room to assemble my supplies.

I had no idea what we’d be doing in art studio—drawing, painting, ceramics,

collage—so I put together a little of everything.

First step, of course, was to take stock of the supplies I’d brought with me from home. A couple of sketch pads. Charcoal. Conté crayons. My favorite pencils, a sharpener, and a couple of gummy erasers. A small watercolor box with six tiny trays of color and a little plastic cup for water. Three black microtip pens I’d nabbed at the Hartnett College bookstore, where my parents had been professors.

(College bookstores always had the best supplies.)

I tried not to think about Sebastian or the things he wanted to talk to me about,

and instead focused on the task at hand. I put the supplies into a black mesh bag,

zipped it up, and threw the whole shebang into my messenger bag.

When I was ready to go, I headed out and locked my door behind me. The common room was empty again. Scout’s door was shut, and when I tried the knob,

it was locked.

Weird. Since when did Scout lock her door?

I knocked with a knuckle. “Hey, you okay in there? I’m heading out for studio.”

It took a second before she answered, “I’m good. Just about to head to study hall. Have fun.”

I stood there in front of her door for a few seconds, waiting for something more.

But she didn’t say anything else. What was she up to?

I shook my head and walked toward the hallway. I definitely did not need another mystery.