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Thank fuck that bastard is dead, his body burned away, my father’s murder avenged. I take some comfort in that. It’s cold comfort, because the clock is ticking on my impending marriage and I still have no idea what the fuck I’m going to do, and around every corner I expect to find Mackenzie spraying bullets everywhere.
The next week of school passes in a blur. Alongside the rest of the senior class, Eli and Noah sent in their college applications a few weeks ago, so there’s this restless hum in the air while they wait for results. No one sits still in class. Ms. Drysdale is showing movies in English, and Mr. Dallas teaches us how to make molecular cocktails in chemistry. There hardly seems much point attending any longer.
They only have a few more weeks to wait to see if their hard work will pay off.
I give up on any pretense that I give a shit about school. I didn’t apply to any colleges. I never saw myself strutting around an ivy-covered campus, reading glasses dangling from a perfectly manicured fingernail. I sleep through my classes and wander the halls in a daze. It’s as if school is the dream – the alternate reality of parties and finals and SATs from which I’ll soon wake up.
My real life begins when the sun goes down. When the monsters of Emerald Beach come out to play.
At the rate I’m going, I might not even get my high school diploma. Luckily, qualifications count for shit in my world. I may not be able to name all the Founding Fathers, but thanks to Noah’s excellent tutelage, I understand complex shipping forecasts and ship’s manifests. Piece by piece, I’m putting my father’s empire back together, winning over his old alliances with new deals, playing off factions against each other.
But I need more.
If I want to get out of this marriage, I’m going to need something I can sell other than myself. The secret Livvie gave me is good, real good, but it’s a last resort – I’d be taking a huge risk revealing it, and I only want to play that card if I have no other choice.
When I crashed the Saturnalia council, I promised Nero and Constantine secrets. I promised an advantage they didn’t have – the face of Mackenzie Malloy. A face that can unlock doors to the elite in this city. And I need to use that face to get them something.
On Friday, I wait for George outside her art class and yank her into a supply closet.
“Ow.” She rolls her shoulder. “We can talk at home, you know. You don’t have to yank my arm out of its socket.”
“This can’t wait.” I’m too amped up, too desperate to act. I hate sitting around in this annoying school, knowing Mackenzie is out there, plotting her next move. She could be watching us right now, her sights trained on me. “You said you had secrets on people in this school. Important families, YouTube stars, etc. I need you to start spilling.”
“I keep it all right here.” George taps the side of her head. “I’ve been saving things up for years in case I need them. Sometimes, just knowing you can destroy someone with a well-placed media leak makes it easier to endure their bullying. What are you looking for?”
It figures George is too nice to make use of anything she knows. Luckily for us, I’m not nice. “I need something I can bargain with. An opportunity that the Triumvirate can exploit.”
“Okay. Well, turns out that Amanda Siegal’s mother’s Gulfstream G5 is actually a rental.”
“What else is new?”
“Um…Tyson Gray’s father paid twenty million dollars to charter an expedition vessel to hunt for the Loch Ness Monster.”
“Hilarious, but not of interest to the Triumvirate.”
“Okay, then… you’ve got Cleo’s friend, Daphne Ballantyne. Her father got into some trouble three years ago. He had a gambling problem, was embezzling money from clients to pay his debts, all the usual stuff. The whole thing came out in the media and he committed suicide.” George grins. “Supposedly.”
A faked death. That’s perfect.
If this bastard had gambling debts in Emerald Beach, I know exactly who he owed money, and who would have been hired to ensure those debts are paid.
“George, you genius. You got proof?”
“Always.” George taps her phone screen a few times, then hands it over. A video plays, timestamped over the summer, showing Daphne embracing a man who I’m guessing is her father.
“This isn’t good enough. We need to know where this guy is hiding out.”
“I don’t have that information…”
“Can you get it?” I tap my chin. “Never mind, just get me in a room with Daphne, away from school, away from prying eyes and security cameras, and I’ll get it out of her.”
“Daphne’s going to be at that Stonehurst Prep alumni party Noah’s going to this weekend.” George taps her phone. “You’re already on the guest list, but I’ve just added me and Gabriel. It’s one of those things where we need to attend in pairs.”
I tap my finger on my chin. “How convenient that the event is at Vault. I’ll make sure Eli leaves one of the private suites available for us. We’re going to need a soundproof room. And I’ll have to figure out how to get my knives past Nero’s security.”
George’s face collapses with panic. “Wait, what do you need knives for?”
“What did you think I was going to do, tickle the answer out of her? We need to find out where Daphne’s hiding her father. If Constantine can collect on this job, he’ll be happy. It’s a win-win.”
