it’s good having those espresso machines at the house and the apartment for when I want a decent coffee. Don’t know why I didn’t put them in sooner.”
“Maybe because you can wave a distinguished hand and someone rushes out to get you one whenever you want.”
He rubbed his chin in an exaggerated way. “You might be onto something. Maybe it’s the novelty of doing it myself—experiencing how average people do it.”
We both laughed. I was happy to see he had a sense of humor about his obscene amount of money. Just like Ethan, he didn’t let his privilege go to his head.
We spent the next half hour eating the fluffy, sweet pancakes and sipping our tea and coffee while we chatted, avoiding the heavier topics of my mother and all the tensions in the world. When our plates and cups were empty, a comfortable silence settled between us. I stared out the window at the people strolling past on Bradford Hills’ main street.
“Evie, before we head off”—Lucian’s expression became solemn—“I wanted to speak to you about something. And if you don’t want to discuss this today, just say so. It’s totally fine. But I wanted to talk to you about setting up a memorial plaque for Joyce.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say. The idea hadn’t even occurred to me. I’d spent the past two years trying to just survive without my mom.
Suddenly I felt as if I was letting her down. She deserved to have something permanent to mark her life. She deserved to be remembered and honored. Tears stung my eyes, and I took a labored swallow around the lump in my throat.
Lucian sighed. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I know this must be an incredibly difficult day for you, and I just wanted to do something to focus on the person she was instead of dwell on the way she died. We can discuss it another time.”
I looked at the ceiling, trying to dry up my tears before they fell. “No. It’s just a really emotional day for me. To be honest, I’m feeling bad I didn’t think of it.”
He smiled. “You’ve had a lot to deal with, and honestly—”
Whatever he was about to say was cut off by a loud whooshing that drowned out all other noise. A wind so strong it overturned tables and chairs exploded through the café, making it difficult to breathe.
I threw my hands up instinctually to protect my head, but through a gap in my forearms, I saw one of the Melior Group agents get taken out—by water.
All the liquid in the area—the teas and coffees, the dishwater in the sink, the water in the small fish tank on a side table—congregated into one ugly, gray, writhing ball of water, which affixed itself to the head and upper body of one of our protectors.
The man pulled his gun but quickly realized it was useless. What good were bullets against a seemingly sentient ball of liquid? He thrashed, bumping into people and furniture still being tossed about by the wind. After a few minutes of frantic scratching and clawing, he fell to his knees, then onto his front, his body convulsing as he drowned.
Once he stopped moving, the water lost its shape and pooled around him. His empty eyes stared upward, wide and unblinking.
The unrelenting wind whipped my hair around my face, making it almost impossible to hear or move. I jumped as someone’s hand closed around my wrist, but when I turned, it was only Lucian. His chair had been pushed up against the wall. He pulled on my arm, gesturing for me to get behind him as his eyes flicked to something over my shoulder.
I dropped to my knees, and the chair I’d been sitting on flew into the cyclone. Struggling to keep my balance, I crawled over to lean against Lucian’s legs and try to get my bearings.
Most of the people in the café, as well as the furniture, had been pushed to the walls. Some cowered in fear; others appeared to be unconscious or dead. I had no idea where the agents outside were or if they were even alive.
The drowned agent’s partner lay half-behind the counter, a snapped-off chair leg sticking out of his chest. Blood dripped from his mouth and the wound, puddling beneath the gun next to his outstretched hand. The wind slowly dragged the weapon across the tiles, marking a crimson streak along the ground as it skittered past a pair of small