“What are you doing? Here to screw with us some more?” he said.
I forced myself to straighten up and did my best to wash the look of disgust off my face. “No. I wanted to ask one more time for our memory card back.Please.”
“I already told you, you can’t have it.”
“What do I have to do for it? Seriously. For you to get rid of copies you made, not to air it, to give me the footage, what do I have to do?”
Tad rolled his shoulders and looked me over from head to toe. I had to clench my teeth to suppress the full-body shudder that came over me. I was glad Artemis hadn’t come here; I could deal with people looking at me like I was something less than human, but I didn’t think she had quite as much experience.
Tad motioned with his head. “Come in, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Is the card in your room? Because if it’s not, I don’t see the point of coming in.”
“Do you want the card back or not?”
I’d dealt with firestarters this week. I could probably handle a blue-balled nerd. Probably.
I went inside, hands out of my pockets, every hair on my body standing on end. If he came within arm’s reach of me, he was getting his nose relocated to his brain. He closed the door. The room had one bed with sheets the color of mustard, an old tube TV on the long dresser on the opposite side of the room, and a large window facing the cornfields, the curtains pulled closed. Both lamps on either side of the headboard were on, as well as the lamp on the desk by the dresser. A suitcase sat on the floor by the desk chair, overflowing with wrinkledshirts and balled-up socks, a toothbrush without a holder, and a collection of CDs in slim jewel cases, neatly slotted into the netting in the top. It was so much warmer than it was outside, sweat gathered on my neck immediately; he had to have the thermostat set to eighty. The whole room smelled like smoke.
“Are you cooking something in here? Why’s it so hot?”
“Why’s your damn town so cold?” he shot back. He walked around to my left, staying carefully out of arm’s reach, like he’d read my mind. He circled around and sat on the very corner of the bed, more resting on the balls of his feet than anything, and looked me up and down again. He wore old jeans and a button-down short-sleeve T-shirt that made him look like his shoulders were too narrow and his neck was too long.
“I don’t have any weapons on me,” I said. “If you’re thinking anything else, stop now; it’s not happening.”
He snorted. “You must think you’re hot shit if you go around accusing people of wanting to have sex with you. Youdoknow you look like you crawled out of a garbage can, right?”
I never accused people of wanting to have sex with me—I never eventhoughtabout it—and he wasn’t going to gaslight me into submission.
“You literally hit on me the first time we met,” I snapped. “Did you forget that?”
He blinked slowly and said, “Wait, you’re into Bach, right?Or is he into you? Hewouldbe into you; look at him, he looks like he climbed out of the garbage, too. So have you hit that yet? Or no?”
If my own head didn’t explode first, I was going to pop his off his neck. “What do you want?” I said. “You brought me in here because you want something for that memory card. What is it?”
He leaned back and rapped his fingers on his chin. “Well now, let’s see. What would that footage be worth to you? Five hundred dollars? A thousand?”
I held my arms up. “Does it look like I have any money?”
“Fair. Any property, family heirlooms? No? Hmm... and the sex thing iscompletelyoff the table?”
My nostrils flared. I would not break my hard swearing rules for this jerk. I wouldn’t.
“Okay, okay.” He thought for another moment. I wanted to punch him. I wanted to kick him in the crotch and go find someone reasonable to ask. “How about this?” He held his hands open and smiled. “You help me frame Sam and Bach for these fires.”
I froze.
“It would be easy, with me backing you,” he went on. “You could clear your name and get them out of town, just like you want. Then we could discuss more after that—like you helping me get into Grimshaw House.”
A cold and unsettling feeling spread from my spine, out through my back, and down my arms and legs. There’s a deep animal instinct that tells you when a person is no longer joking. It tells you the heat in the room isn’t coming from a thermostat. It tells you those appraising looks were not the usual kind of inappropriate. The rational side of your brain wants to tell you these feelings are silly or stupid or insane. The rational side of your brain is wrong.
Tad’s eyes snapped up to mine. Still, dark. Black. His thumb rubbed a slow circle on his knee. The room was quiet except for the low whistle of the wind outside. No ghosts watching in the window. No blasting heater set too high.
“So,” I said, “your name is Ludwig?”
His lips split to reveal straight white teeth. His eyes lit with glee.
“Nice to see you again, Zora Novak.”
