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“They killed your friends, Lacie.”
She chews her lip. “Okay. Let’s say you and I determine who all the vættir are. Then what do we do?”
I grin at her. “Then we kill them for sure.”
She groans and buries her head in her hands. “No, no. I won’t be party to more murder. One is enough for me. And even that, I don’t think I’ll ever get over.”
But doesn’t she want to destroy every man who has ever looked at her like a piece of meat? Doesn’t she want to take that anger inside of her and use it?
“Lacie,” I say, placing a hand on her arm, infusing my voice with that infectious croon, “it’s kill or be killed. And since last night, you’re being watched.”
She rips her arm from mine. “Don’t you do that to me.”
“Do what?”
“Charm me. I don’t like it. I don’t want you to do that to me ever again. You did it last night and I—”
I tilt my head to the side, and I’m sure I look every bit the calculating predator that I am. But I don’t want to be that to her. I don’t want her to think less of me for what I am. “I’m not trying to. I’m trying to get you to see reason.”
“How is ‘reason’ in this situation ‘commit more murder’?” She gapes at me. “Do you understand how insane that is?”
“Not really. People die all the time, lamb, but putting the right ones in the ground makes the world better.” And helps me survive another year.
“My god.” She sighs.
“Think about all the grad students and professors you’ll be saving. Do you really want their deaths on your hands?”
Her gaze winnows to a sharp, accusatory point, her brow furrowed. “Don’t blackmail me.”
“I’m not. That’s simply the trade: you accept we have to root out the evil here, or you accept more people like Laurel and Therese will die. You accept that more people like Lyle will be turned, and that Evan will continue to try for immortality, spreading this sickness far past the petri dish you first found it festering inside. Your choice.”
She’s on her feet in an instant. “Fuck!” she shouts. The word doesn’t even echo. The library falls silent all around us as Lacie starts to pace. “I want justice, but not this.”
“But the moment you went to look for me last night, you stepped right into it.” I give her a smile that is meant to be soothing but comes out sharp; I know because she startles, her eyes widening. “And do you really think that the missing hours at the RBR don’t have something to do with this? Come now. They must be hiding something.”
Lacie stands there, her eyes locked on the middle distance between the shelves. Somewhere above us, living and endangered Classics students ready for exams, go to the library with friends, have sex with their significant others. Somewhere above us, vættir plan their next moves, and they must know we’re onto them. If not yet, soon.
“Lacie,” I continue, my voice softer, “we have to do the next right thing. Don’t we?”
Her eyes fill with tears but she doesn’t look at me. She snatches her glasses from her face and heaves massive, half-sobbing breaths.
“And if nothing else, you are now in danger. You have to protect yourself. If you don’t, I’ll do it for you.”
Lacie spins to me, her face fierce, eyes blazing. “Why do you have to protect me? Last night, you protected me. Today, you’re doing it again. Why?”
I lean toward her over the table. “I’m fond of you, lamb. Last night should have confirmed that for you. Didn’t it?”
“I didn’t … I didn’t know if any of it was real.”
Stung, I eye her. “Really?”
“Hi.”
Both of us startle. In my passion, I didn’t notice Lyle come slinking into the Div School basement. He looks like hell, deep, dark troughs carved out beneath his eyes. The thin skin twitches. Blood laces his bitten cuticles, I notice, as he puts two fists on the table between us.
“Lyle,” Lacie manages after a moment. “Weren’t you going with Evan to lesson plan or whatever?”
I can tell she doesn’t want to be around him: she’s still too close to whatever it was that happened beneath the dean’s house. Her voice doesn’t shake, but I can smell the bitter rush of adrenaline leaking off her skin.
