A ghost ran a shivering finger down Embry’s spine.
“Why on earth did Skye cut it off there?” she asked, trying not to whine but totally doing it anyway. She knew Skye’s editing skills with the video weren’t the problem, but it felt good to voiceher frustrations. “Why didn’t she get the part where you grabbed me, and then just, like, I don’t know, pan out to see where Oakley had gone? I’m still not sure if she went toward the stadium to take her seat or went somewhere else entirely. That information would be extremely helpful because it doesn’t appear that she made it into the stadium. So, where’d she go?”
Rye nodded. “Hopefully, someone will come forward with an eyewitness account of where she went. But for this moment, let’s assume no one has or will come forward with that information.” He clicked the pen in his hand. “Instead, let’s go back to the first question you posed: Why did Skye cut off the video there?”
Embry was relieved he seemed as annoyed—or perhaps suspicious—as she was about the piece of evidence, but before she could figure out a reasonable answer, Rye was pondering another, sandy brows crashing together. “Actually, why did Skyestartthe video where she did? You all were talking before the video begins.”
“Because she loves drama but never actually enrolledindrama?”
It was a dig and a joke. Rye didn’t laugh. “She provided evidence that’s so far been used against you. It also conveniently omits the beginning and ending of the scene. I’m not saying Skye did anything nefarious, but I do think we need to be suspicious of why the video captures only part of the conversation.”
“Not to mention we should be suspicious that she got any video at all, because she’s part of the powder-puff team and should’ve been on the field,” Embry pointed out.
Now they were cooking with gas, as Lazarus would say.
“Why and how was Skye able to film any part of that conversation?” Rye tapped the legal pad. “I think we should add Skye to the suspect list.”
With a flourish, he wroteSuspectsatop the page and addedSkye Wolvertondirectly underneath. Then, below her name, he wrotevideobefore rubbing a finger thoughtfully across stubble that was now much thicker than a five o’clock shadow. “What motive might Skye have to provide a suspiciously edited video to the authorities as circumstantial evidence against you?”
“She’s a supreme Bitch.”
“Embry, be serious.”
“Iambeing serious. Skye is the current leader of the Bitches, and she very obviously wanted Oakley to be part of her clique. Instead, Oakley went with me.”
Understanding lit in Rye’s eyes. “Oh, I see. And was she still actively recruiting Oakley, who suddenly didn’t ‘need’ you to be popular?”
“Maybe? When it became clear that Skye wasn’t going to lure her to the shifters’ group—I think she was interested because Oakley was not only rare but able to shift into a bat, plus, you know,fangs—she instead used Fairfax to invite Oakley to the social committee to help prepare for homecoming. And, well, it worked. She joined.”
“Interesting. That’s motive for framing you, though not motive for killing Oakley.”
Embry had to agree. She hadn’t even questioned Skye’s motives, but now that they were talking about it, the motive was obvious. At least in making sure Embry was out of the picture. But what good did that do if the recruit to the Bitches’ clique was dead?
“Did the leaders of the other cliques at Raven’s Head feel the same way as Skye?” Rye asked. “Was Oakley some sort of hot ticket from the moment she arrived?”
“Oh, yes. Well, okay, not the moment she arrived,” Embry admitted. “You didn’t see her that first day, but she was more of an oddity for the first few hours than anything. Someone who’d been homeschooled her entire life until stepping on campus for her senior year. But the moment she announced she was a vampire?Blood in the water—no pun intended. People followed her into the bathroom to ask if she was born or made—”
“Seriously?” Rye was aghast. “That’s grotesque.”
“Grotesque but accurate. Everyone wanted a piece of her.” Embry began counting off the cliques on her fingers. “Stitches wanted her because she was an unusual member of the undead, and the last vampire on campus identified most with them”—here, Rye nodded, seemingly recalling Embry’s earlier explanation—“Bitches wanted her for the aforementioned shifting capabilities and fangs, and the Glitches were salivating because she could literally fit into any category.”
Rye took a long drag from his teacup, set it down, and speared Embry with a questioning look. “And the Witches? Why did you want her?”
That unsure girl with the fried locks and reluctant smile, weighed down by her backpack and her first-day nerves, loomed in Embry’s mind’s eye like a Thanksgiving Day parade balloon.
“Oakley was just so vulnerable. She’d never been to school, didn’t know the first thing about navigating any institution let alone one with so many built-in politics and pitfalls. I thought we’d be able to protect her best. We were—are—well-situated, exclusive, and powerful. Someone like that? With social cachet to spare that they didn’t even realize they’d had? She was clueless, or at least she seemed that way at first. I don’t know; I just had this need to help her.”
Even though, apparently, her generosity was unappreciated in the end. Another surge of tears pressed at Embry’s eyes, and she closed them. “Go ahead. Accuse me and my ego of some sort of salvation complex meant only to bolster my own on-campus reputation.”
He didn’t take the bait. “Why do you think she picked the Witches over her other suitors?”
Embry drew in a deep breath that rattled like bones in a specimen jar. “We’d been open and inviting to her before anyone knew what she was, magically speaking, and I think that played a part in why she stayed with us.”
Rye silently chewed on this answer. When she was sure enough that she wouldn’t cry again, Embry opened her eyes and waited for his assessment. To her surprise, he was furiously writing. She leaned forward, reading upside down. “Cass Calloway and Ariel Northam? Why are you…?”
“If we are assuming that perhaps Skye had motive to frame you, I think we need to add the other current clique leaders to our suspects list, don’t you?” Rye spun the legal pad to face her. She’d seen it many times, but it struck her even now that his handwriting was elegant in an old-fashioned type of way. It reminded her of the journals her grandparents had kept that Daddy preserved in the conservatory. “I’m not a student anymore, but I’m also not completely out of touch. These are the current clique leaders, correct?”
Embry nodded but scrunched her nose, unsure, and suddenly uneasy about naming names. Or at leastthesenames. Skye was a Bitch, yes, but even with the video stuff, Embry couldn’t imagine her killing anyone, let alone Oakley. Cass Calloway, Frankenstein’s monster and the most celebrated Stitch with their zombie girlfriend/court member, Taviana Tavares, was an absolute delight. And the leader of the Glitches, Ariel Northam, literal siren and literal namesake wannabe, complete with dyed auburn mermaid hair and violently aqua contacts, was more of a fashion plate than a 3D murderer.
