He looked at his watch. “I have to go.” He slid to the end of the booth and stood up.

“I still don’t know what you did. How you gave me that spark.”

“The spark is yours. I just brought it out. Remember that. You are different, you know.”

Stubbornly, I shook my head. “Not different,” I said again. “And only lucky for a little while. We’re willing to let it go. Are you?”

He looked away, but I had one more question. “Sebastian.”

He glanced back.

“How did you know I was going to be outside?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t. I just got lucky.”

Without elaborating, he turned and walked into the crowd of men, women, and children waiting for their tacos. The crowd—and then the city—swallowed him up again.

I sat there for a moment just processing the meeting, rubbing the tips of my fingers against my palm. I could still feel the tingle there, and I wasn’t sure I liked it. I rubbed my hands against my skirt, as if to erase the feeling. Something about it—about him—just made me uneasy.

“Probably has something to do with the fact that he’s my sworn enemy,” I mumbled, then slid out of the booth myself. I walked back across the street and toward the school.

I couldn’t help but wonder about Sebastian’s motivations. He said he was concerned about me—but he didn’t really have any reason to be. Was he flirting? I doubted it, and even if he was, no, thank you.

Was it because he’d given me firespell? Had the magic created some kind of bond between us that I didn’t know about? I made a mental note to ask Scout about it . . . without telling her why I was asking. I might eventually need to spill Sebastian’s interest in me, but I wasn’t going to do that now. There was no reason, as far as I could see, to raise the alarm bells.

By the time I returned, my secretly empty sketchbook in hand, Scout was in the common room, ready to head out for dinner.

To be honest, seeing her made me nervous. I still wasn’t sure what I should tell her. After all, I’d willingly had a meeting with a Reaper. Granted, a Reaper who’d saved my life, but given her experiences, I wasn’t sure she’d care much about the difference. I didn’t want to keep a secret from her, but I also didn’t want the lecture.

So I decided to let it ride. I kept the dinner convo light, and steered away from all things darkly elite.

Study hall followed dinner, and as soon as we got back to the suite, Scout hied off to her room. She walked in, and with an apologetic glance back at me, started closing her door.

“Everything okay?”

“Yep. Just some work to do.”

Okay, this was, what, the second time this week she’d locked herself in her room? “What are you working on?”

“Just some spells. Nothing personal. I just need quiet and . . . you know . . . to concentrate.”

“Okay,” I said. I watched her disappear into her room, trying to figure out what I was supposed to do. Was I supposed to worry about her? Give her privacy? Break down the door to make sure she was okay? I mean generally, I’d be all for having time to oneself, but this girl had been kidnapped. I didn’t want to leave her alone if she was in there being held at spell-point by a Reaper.

“She’s fine, you know.”

I glanced back. Lesley stood in her doorway, the bow to her cello in hand.

I didn’t want to talk about Scout within earshot, so I walked over to Lesley’s room. “What do you mean?”

She plucked a tiny piece of lint from the bow. “She did the same thing earlier. She seems fine, though.”

“Huh,” I said. “Did you notice anything odd?”

“She has a nose ring. And her hair is dyed two colors.”

Okay, Lesley did have a point there.

“But I’m not sure how you are.”

My eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

She tilted her head to the side and gave me an up-and-down look. “You look weird. What’s going on?”

Was she really that astute? Or was I sending out some kind of “I just had a secret meeting with a Reaper” vibe? I shrugged and hoped it looked nonchalant. “Nothing. Just. You know. Being me.”

She didn’t look convinced, but when she shrugged, I figured she was moving on.

In any event, time to change the subject. “So, I’m gonna work on my drawing for studio. How’s yours coming along?”

Lesley shrugged. “I’m done.”

“Already? We don’t have class again until next week.”

“I’m not running secret missions at night. I had time.” She turned on her heel and headed back into her room. “And now it’s time for practice,” she said and shut the door behind her.

You had to admire that kind of focus.

Since Amie’s room was empty and Lesley’s cello-playing made a pretty good soundtrack to creativity, I grabbed my sketchbook and started drawing. Sebastian might have interrupted my afternoon plans, but he wasn’t going to take over my evening.

13

Scout’s room was empty when I woke up the next morning. I showered and pulled on my plaid, grabbed my bag, and headed to the cafeteria. I found her at the end of a long table, surrounded by empty chairs. There was a tray in front of her, and a half-eaten muffin on the tray. A couple of notebooks were open beside it.

I plucked a box of chocolate milk and a carrot-raisin muffin from the buffet, then took the seat across from her. “You got an early start.”