“But I’m notactuallyjealous,” Embry insisted. “I mean, about the homecoming crown, yeah, fine, I’m human, but I’m not jealous of Oakley in any other way. I think it’s way more likely that instead of someone being jealous of her or feeling slighted by thenewest It girl at Raven’s Head, we’re looking at the possibility of a vampire hunter.”
Rye swallowed a sip of his coffee and seemed to agree. “There’s a reason there are so few vampires, and why they’re so insular and secretive.”
“Wouldn’t you have trust issues with the magical community if you were once hunted for sport tosteal your magic?”
Rye nodded into his drink—so he knew this little nugget about magical history, too. Perhaps Lazarus had told him on Saturday before buying her pizza. “I don’t blame them for being skittish, given vampire hunting wasn’t outlawed that long ago when you’re talking about the lifespan of a near-immortal being. Plus, let’s not forget that it’s illegal to hunt them, sure, but that doesn’t mean they aren’tbeinghunted.”
A chill running up her spine, Embry thought of Daddy’s suggestion that the autopsy might prove Oakley’s magic had been stolen and pictured it sucked out of her bones like marrow. They needed to find out one way or another.
“Oakley could’ve been killed because she was a target out in the open,” Embry continued in a vicious whisper. “And I was an easy mark for blame, because what do hunters do? They stalk their prey. They learn about their lives, their patterns, and look for their openings. They found one on Friday night rolled up nicely with a cover story.”
“So we research any known activity in the illegal vampire hunting space,” Rye said, plunking his phone onto the table. After a few taps, a new digital version of the list he’d written out on the legal pad popped up in Rye’s Notes app. He added bothvampire hunterandrandom psychopathunder the names they’d started with.
“I hate that list. It’s so weak.” Embry took a sad gulp of her latte. It was already dregs and ice. Discarding her cup, she dropped her head into her palms. She wedged the heels of her hands into hereye sockets, vaguely hoping that, with enough pressure, she’d blink into a new, far less terrible reality.
“We’ve reached the pit of despair already,” interrupted a new voice with a sigh. “Babe, get her more caffeine, stat.”
Embry forced herself to sit up. And, blinking through plenty of deep eggplant spots in her vision, homed in on Ames just as the girl’s strong arm wrapped around her shoulders and her thigh tapped hers as she slid into the booth.
“Hey, Em.”
“You came,” Embry said.
“How’d you know we were here?” Rye asked.
“I scried her a message when I went to the restroom,” Embry answered.
Rye nodded. “No paper trail. Genius.”
“Why, thank you, it wasmyidea,” Ames answered. “Glad this one listened.” She knocked Embry’s shoulders. “Now, get us up to speed. We have approximately thirty-seven minutes before we need to hightail it to class. Don’t worry, Em—that A average won’t dip in the slightest. I’m picking up all the missed work for you in our shared classes.”
“You are a goddess if nottheGoddess.”
Ames beamed—a tough feat with her own wear and tear from last night in the form of her brown skin being near-jaundiced underneath her expertly applied makeup. A side effect of heavy magical output, as obvious as any bruise. She hadn’t been hurt, but she’d been drained during the fight. Still, Ames fluffed the ends of her tight black curls. “Thank you for noticing.”
In turns, Embry and Rye explained what they’d done so far, their story picking up momentum as soon as Fairfax dropped into the seat next to Rye with a second round of coffee for them, and the first for himself and Ames.
“We’ll figure out who’s dropped out,” Ames said, alreadytexting, looking for info. “And if we can get more than just the name, we will.”
“We said we’d be your boots on the ground, and we plan to be your boots on the ground,” Fairfax asserted, with a little two-fingered salute from one temple.
Embry hadthe bestfriends. “Honestly, anything you can learn from the inside at Raven’s Head while we’re searching the outside would be fantastic.”
“Agreed.” Rye nodded, running a hand through his sandy mop. It bounced back even more disheveled than before. It truly was amazing that his hair could look that goodthatmessy, and with no magical manipulation. “And what about digitally? Can either or both of you be on the lookout for more video from Friday or anything else that might be useful in proving Embry didn’t go after Oakley?”
“Sure thing,” Ames replied.
“And find out if Skye took that video herself?” Embry added. “She was supposed to be on the field when it was happening.”
“I can do that,” Fairfax announced. “No problem.”
For once, Ames didn’t sneer at his close relationship with the werewolf—either because it was a benefit here or because she was picking her battles.
“Oh, and keys to the drama department—if there’s any way you can spot a list of who might have access to one, that would be helpful.”
Ames added that to her mental list. “Are we scrying you our finds?”
Embry considered this. “I think we”—here, she nodded across the table at Rye—“might not necessarily be near a mirror, depending on what we do next. And… I know Dr. Goldman is at my house with Daddy. There might be others there, too.” Up until the pushto delay her Ascension, Embry would’ve trusted any coven member with her life. Now she wasn’t totally sure one of them wouldn’t relay to Inspector Brown anything they deemed suspicious. “I don’t think anyone would poke around in my room and read any messages written on my bathroom mirror, but I also didn’t think I’d be a murder suspect a week ago, so, you know, no chances.”
