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“Yeah. I mean—no. No, I don’t want to be around him right now. Can I join you?”
Lacie and I make sudden, electric eye contact. What if this is a trap set by the deans? Well, they’ll have to go through me, first.
“Of course,” I say, rolling a wrist toward an empty chair. “In fact, please. I’ve been so worried about you.” It comes out as a soft purr, the scruff of a hand against the back of a tense neck, but Lyle doesn’t soften.
If anything, he stiffens perceptibly. “I’m good standing, thanks. I was hoping you two could tell me what happened after the Winter Ball.”
“You really don’t remember?” Lacie asks. “Part of me thought you were putting that on as an act around Evan.”
Lyle barks a laugh. “Whatever happened to me, it’s as much a mystery to me as apparently everyone else.” He looks up and meets our questioning gazes in turn, and I’m seized with an uncanny and unusual emotion: panic.
If living so long has taught me anything, it’s that the truth will always present itself.
“But you. You’ll be honest with me. Won’t you?”
“Sit down, Lyle,” I command, and he finally does, frowning.
Lacie clicks her tongue at me and leans in to wrap her hand around Lyle’s wrist. “Of course we will be. Won’t we?” She casts her gaze at me, and I want to scream that I can’t read her mind. That she’ll have to take the lead on this if she’s prepared to bald-facedly lie about what she saw.
“Lyle, I hope I’ve never given you the impression that I’m a liar. Stiff competition for those tenure spots, perhaps, but never a liar.” I toss my hair and give him a genuine, if arch, smile. “What can we help you with?”
“I saw you and Lacie leave the ball.” He looks between us. “I saw you go into the dean’s house.” Lyle nods at Lacie. “And then I saw you two come out later with that cooler between you. What was going on?”
I still—so does Lacie—but her heart is a raucous batter of flesh. “What, uh—what do you mean?” she asks, trying to affect calm and failing miserably.
“So the thing is, I saw you go in and leave, but then you said you were at the after-party. What happened in the intervening time?”
“Nothing that concerns you,” I say, arching a brow.
“I think it might, actually. I think it might give me some kind of clue to what’s going on in this damn place.”
My glamour isn’t working well on him, and of course it’s not. Vættir don’t respond the same way as mortals. So, the turning was successful. Or at least it’s beginning.
Not good at all.
“You have to be honest with me,” he says, his voice soft and pleading. “Please. I just—last thing I remember is going after you.”
“Going … after us,” Lacie repeats. “That’s it? Like, you remember nothing else?”
“Why, should I? I thought you said it wasn’t anything important.” He turns an appraising eye on her.
Shut up, I will her, but Lacie’s honest little mouth is already opening.
“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that, I just—”
“We had a quickie,” I cut in, showing Lyle every single one of my teeth. “In the dean’s house. Call it a bucket-list item. Can’t be the undergrads who have all the fun, can it? Lacie has the cutest freckle at the base of her spine.”
Truth is, I saw that while zipping up her dress, but he doesn’t need to know that. Lacie’s staring at me with wide eyes. Come on, follow the story, I will. Come on.
Lyle, for his part, narrows his eyes. “Right.”
“What, is it so unbelievable?” I croon, pinching Lacie’s arm. “It’s not like we were committing murder.” I laugh like this could be the most fantastical claim I can think of. “Please. Lacie’s adorable. I couldn’t resist.”
And by the press of her eyes, I can tell I’m accidentally making a liar of my professed feelings for her. But I’m protecting her. That’s all I’m doing. She’s an accomplice to my killing—and goddess forbid a loose cannon like Lyle catch wind of what actually happened.
Lacie clears her throat. “Lyle, I’m sorry you don’t remember anything. You’re exhausted, though, I can tell. Since Therese … well, you haven’t been acting like yourself.”
His fists thrash the table. “The only way I’m acting is sane. No one will listen to me. Preston isn’t—it’s not what it seems. Will you help me? Please, Therese’s death can’t have been an accident, or a suicide, or whatever the hell they’re calling it now.” His eyes bore into mine. “Please. You two have a way with Shea. He shuts me out, but he has to know something. I’ve never been invited to the after-party before. You know what I’m saying.”
