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“Lucy Renard.”
“Oh,” he said, his eyes focusing somewhere over my head. He looked a little guilty, but not in a way I recognized. After a moment he gave me a weak smile and shrugged. “I’m afraid I don’t know all my students by name. My TA is a lot better with that sort of thing.”
“Gabriel Holbrook?”
Mayhew banged his briefcase against his leg and returned his focus to me. “Oh, do you know Gabe?”
“Not very well. I was actually wondering how well he knew Lucy.”
“Well…” He chuckled. “It’s not really my place to discuss Gabriel’s personal affairs. But it’s my understanding he’s pretty…popular.”
“I bet.” In my pocket, my phone vibrated. Probably Holden asking how long I planned to be. The vampire was going to have to wait.
“Was there a reason you came to my class tonight?”
“Lucy’s…away. I wanted to be sure she wasn’t missing anything important.”
“Ah.” He switched his briefcase from one hand to the other and pulled a pocket watch out, flipping it open to check the time. “It’s a bit late, but if you’d like to follow me, I can give you the notes from this week’s class so Miss Renard doesn’t fall behind. This is a third-year class, a lot happens every week, and it can be a time-intensive study responsibility. I hope your friend isn’t planning to miss too many more classes.”
“It remains to be seen.”
Mayhew left the room, and I followed him.
“Nothing too serious?”
That remains to be seen too, I thought. “No,” I answered. “At least I hope not.”
Down a dark corridor, I became aware for the first time it was almost ten o’clock at night and no one else appeared to be in the building anymore. Instinct told me to check my weapons, but pragmatism told me there wasn’t a hell of a lot a limping British professor could do to me.
He unlocked a door marked with his name and ushered me into a small room. When he turned on the light, I got a better handle on my surroundings. The office was cramped, shelves stacked high with books and his small desk overrun with papers and an ancient-looking desktop computer.
“Cozy.”
Mayhew chuckled. “I don’t spend much time in here.” Sidling behind the desk, he started rifling through the paper towers. If there was a system to how they were organized, a maniac must have been the one to establish it. Mayhew was that maniac, as it turned out, because he found the stapled sheaf of papers he’d been looking for and handed them to me with an apologetic smile.
“Thanks,” I said, stuffing the notes in my purse. I wished I’d come better prepared, with at least a notebook or a proper school bag, but I didn’t own either.
He smiled and patted his pockets as he scanned his desk, then let his arms drop, shrugging to himself over some internal thought he was processing. When he rounded the desk and stood in front of me, it took all my will not to move away from him.
My phone vibrated, making me jerk in surprise. Mayhew didn’t seem to notice. He held out his hand again, and although I felt another handshake was a bit much, I didn’t want him to think me rude, especially not after he’d been gracious enough to give me notes for Lucy.
I shook his hand, appreciating the firmness of his grip. He clasped his other hand on the back of mine, his thumb brushing my knuckles. This was a little too intimate. I tried to pull away, but he showed surprising strength by holding me in place. His hooded eyes, the color of an old sweatshirt, locked on me.
“It’s been a real pleasure.”
“Thanks,” I repeated, my hand going limp between his.
“You’re welcome to sit in on my classes whenever you’d like. I mean, until Miss Renard comes back.”
My eyelids flickered, and my limbs felt heavy. It was too early in the night for me to be feeling sleepy, yet I stifled a yawn. Mayhew gave my hand one last squeeze with both of his, then let it fall. My fingers tingled slightly.
“You have a good night.” He smiled, and I couldn’t help but smile back.
Outside, halfway between the English department and the library, I retrieved my cell phone from my pocket to see what Holden was pestering me about and to tell him I was on my way to meet him. When I flicked open the message screen, I stopped dead in my tracks.
The first message was from Holden, time stamped before ten, right as I was about to leave with Mayhew. It was the second message that startled me, for two reasons. It was from Desmond, and it said, I’m home. We need to talk.
The real kicker wasn’t his cold words, though, or that he was back. It was the time I’d received the message. Quarter after eleven. I’d only been in Mayhew’s office for ten minutes, tops.
