“Rich kid,” said Alex, “sailing team, always seems to have a tan?”

“That could be a lot of guys around Yale.”

Alex didn’t think he was playing dumb, but she couldn’t be sure.

“The other day you opened a portal in the jail,” said Turner.

“I had a tab on me when you guys picked me up.” Lance grinned. “Plenty of places to stash something that small.”

“Why not just escape?” asked Turner. “Go to Cuba or something?”

“What the fuck would I do in Cuba?” Lance asked. “Besides, you can’t portal big distances from anywhere but the table.”

He meant the tomb. Scroll and Key still needed the nexus. Tara’s tabs weren’t enough on their own.

“Wait,” said Alex. “You wasted your only tab going back to your apartment?”

“I thought I could get some cash, maybe make a run for it or get something to trade in here, but your asshole cops had tore the whole place apart.”

“Why didn’t you just portal to the tomb—the table—and then go wherever you wanted?”

Lance blinked. “Shit.” He slumped back in his chair. “Shit.” He trained his gaze on Alex. He looked impossibly mournful. “You’re going to help me, right? You’re going to protect me?”

Turner stood. “Keep your head down, Gressang. As long as you look like you’re taking the fall, you should be safe in here.”

Alex expected Lance to protest, try to bargain, maybe even threaten them. Instead, he just sat there, his big body frozen like a stone idol beneath the fluorescent lights. He didn’t say a word when Turner knocked on the door and the guard came to fetch them, didn’t look up when they left. He’d been to the jungles of the Amazon, explored the markets of Marrakesh. He’d seen into the mysteries of the world, but the mysteries of the world had taken no notice of him, and after all of it, he’d still ended up here. The doors had closed. The portals too. Lance Gressang wasn’t going anywhere.

Turner and Alex rode back to campus in silence, the Dodge’s heater cranked up against the bitter cold. She texted Dawes to let her know they were in the clear and that she’d be at Black Elm by eight at the latest, then slipped off the pumps she’d borrowed from Mercy. They were a half size too small and her feet were killing her.

It wasn’t until they were exiting the highway that Turner said, “Well?”

“I think we may have more motives than we started with.”

“I’m not taking Gressang off the table. Not until we can put someone else at the scene. But Colin Khatri and Kate Masters are looking a lot more interesting.” He tapped his gloved hands on the wheel. “It’s not only Colin and Kate, though, is it? It’s all of them. All the little children in their robes and hoods pretending they’re wizards.”

“They’re not pretending.” But Alex knew exactly what he meant. Colin was the most direct connection between Scroll and Key and Tara, but all of the Locksmiths had shared their rituals with outsiders and hidden the truth from Lethe. If Tara had become a danger to the society, any one of them could have decided to shut her up. It also didn’t seem likely Kate Masters had opted to go rogue from Manuscript. Alex remembered what Mike Awolowo had said about the rarity of the drug. Maybe they’d all thought they could cut out their Khingan Mountain supplier and start growing their own. He’d seemed genuinely surprised that the Merity had gotten out, but that could have been an act.

“Who do you like for this?” Turner asked.

Alex tried not to show her surprise. Turner might just be using her as a sounding board, but it felt good to be asked. She wished she had a better answer.

Alex flexed her aching feet. “Any member of Manuscript could have used a glamour to make Tara think she was meeting Lance. Plus if Keys relied on Tara for the secret sauce, why would they want her dead? Their magic has been a mess the last few years. They needed her.”

“Unless she was pushing too hard,” said Turner. “We have no idea what her relationship with Colin was really like. We don’t even know exactly what was in those tabs of hers. We aren’t talking about magic mushrooms anymore.”

That was true. Maybe Colin the chem whiz hadn’t liked being shown up by a town girl. And Alex doubted anyone in Scroll and Key liked being blackmailed into sharing their rites. It was also possible someone had cracked Tara’s recipe and decided they didn’t want her around anymore.

“Colin Khatri had an alibi that night,” Alex said. “He was at Belbalm’s salon.”

“You’re telling me he couldn’t just open up a convenient little portal, pop through, kill Tara, be back before anyone noticed?”

Alex wanted to smack herself. “Smart, Turner.”

“It’s almost like I’m good at my job.”

Alex knew she should have thought of it herself. Maybe she would have if she wasn’t too busy hoping Colin wasn’t involved in the worst of this, that her perfect, promising summer with Belbalm could remain untouched by the ugliness of Tara’s murder.

Turner steered the car up Chapel and pulled in at the Vanderbilt gates. She saw North hovering by the steps to her entryway. How long had he been waiting? And had he found Tara on the other side? With a shiver, she realized he’d been killed—or killed pretty Daisy and himself—only blocks from where she was sitting.

“What would you say if I told you there’s a ghost outside my dorm?” asked Alex. “Right there in the courtyard?”

“Honestly?” asked Turner. “After everything I’ve seen the last few days?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d still think you were screwing with me.”

“What if I told you he’s working our case?”

Turner’s real laugh was completely unlike his false chuckle, a deep, full belly laugh. “I’ve had weirder CIs.”

Alex shoved her feet into the too-tight pumps and pushed open the car door. The night air was so cold it hurt to breathe, and the sky was black above her. New moon rising. She was due at Black Elm in a matter of hours. When Dean Sandow had first started talking about the ritual, Alex assumed they would try to contact Darlington from Il Bastone, maybe even using the crucible. But Sandow really did intend to call him home.

“I’ll shake Kate Masters’s tree tomorrow,” said Turner. “Colin Khatri too. See what falls out.”

“Thanks for the ride-along.” Alex shut the car door and watched Turner’s headlights recede down Chapel. She wondered if she’d ever get to speak to the detective again.

Everything might change tonight. Alex had longed for Darlington’s return, and she’d feared it—and she couldn’t quite pull apart those feelings. She knew that when he told Dean Sandow what she’d done, what she really was, it would mean the end for her and Lethe. She knew that. But she also knew that Darlington was Tara’s best chance at justice. He spoke the language of this world, understood its protocols. He would make the connections that the rest of them were missing.

She could admit she missed his pompous, know-it-all ass. But it was more than that. He would protect her.

The thought was embarrassing. Alex the survivor, Alex the rattler, should be harder than that. But she was tired of fighting. Darlington wouldn’t stand for any of what she and Dawes had been put through. He might not believe she belonged in Lethe, but she knew he believed she was worthy of Lethe’s protection. He had promised to place himself between her—between all of them—and the terrible dark. That meant something.

North kept his distance, hovering in the golden light of the streetlamp, murderer or victim, but partner either way. For now.

She nodded to him and left it at that. Tonight she had other debts to pay.

25

Winter

“How’d it go?” Mercy asked, as soon as Alex entered the common room. She sat cross-legged on the couch, surrounded by books. It took Alex a moment to remember she was supposed to have been on a job interview.

“I’m not sure,” she said, heading back to their bedroom to change. “Maybe good? It was interesting. These pants are too tight.”

“Your ass is too big.”

“My ass is just right,” Alex called back. She pulled on black jeans, one of the last of her good long-sleeved shirts, and a black sweater. She considered making up an excuse about a study group, then opted for brushing her hair and applying some dark plum lipstick.

“Where are you going?” Mercy asked when she caught sight of Alex’s look.

“I’m meeting someone for coffee.”

“Hold up,” said Lauren, poking her head out of her bedroom. “Is Alex Stern going on a date?”

“First Alex Stern had a job interview,” said Mercy. “And now she’s going on a date.”

“Who are you, Alex Stern?”

Hell if I know. “If y’all are done, who stole my hoops?”

“What college is he in?” asked Lauren.

“He’s town.”

“Ooh,” said Lauren. She placed Alex’s fake silver hoops in her hand. “Alex loves a working man. That lipstick is way too much.”

“I like it,” said Mercy.

“It looks like she’s going to try to eat his heart.”