This catches his attention. “What are they doing? Did they say what they’re working on?”
“No, I want to talk about my payment,” I say through my teeth, and I’m surprised by how hostile it comes out.
His expression falls. He’s clearly disappointed I haven’t come to him with more intel. But I haven’t done that since the night with that monster.
Preston holds his door open, guiding me back into the room. Finnegan isn’t around, and the bathroom door’s shut, so I assume he’s finishing up whatever he’s supposed to bedoing in there.
When Preston shuts the door, I spit out how I feel. “I’ve done what you wanted for an entire fucking semester, and you still haven’t indicated you’re gonna pay me. I think it’s about fucking time there are some clearer terms around our agreement.” That was the deal. I spy on the Sinners, and Preston gives me what I’m owed.
Preston’s gaze narrows. “Seriously? That thing they unleashed almost killed you, scarred Finnegan, and God knows why the fuck Luke is still alive, but you just want to collect?”
“I want what you promised. I’ve done my part. I don’t like spying on my friend.”
“Look, I don’t know what you guys get up to at your place that makes you think Luke’s your friend, but we hired you for this gig before he even arrived. Every day you’ve spent near him, you’ve been gathering intel. You can’t be friends with someone you’ve been lying to this whole time.”
Maybe he’s right, but that’s beside the point.
“I don’t understand this shit between the Saints and the Sinners,” I say, “but I know the guys aren’t like you led me to believe.”
The Saints is what Preston, Finnegan, Gage, and Spencer call themselves. Not sure why, and I haven’t asked because it’s the least of my concerns. Although, I’ve learned while spying on the Sinners—Brad, Luke, Cody, and Seth—that they refer to themselves as that because it was what the original group called themselves. Maybe the same is true with the Saints.
Preston glares at me. “That’s an interesting thing to hearfrom someone who doesn’t remember what happened that night.” He has every reason to be suspicious. I didn’t just play dumb with the Sinners, but with the Saints too.
But I don’t want to be in the middle of this anymore.
“I remember Cody healing me, and I knowtheystopped that thing, not you guys.”
He shakes his head and sighs, then heads across his room to his safe.
What’s he doing?
He pulls out a wad of cash and counts some bills before returning to me. “Eight hundred? That worth it for you? Or you want a grand?”
“What?” Rage flares in my chest. “Oh, is that how you think this will work? Offer the poor kid some money, and he’ll shut the fuck up and do what you want? You might be used to the world bending over backward for a buck, but you know damn well what I want is worth more than that to me.”
He curls his cash back up and pockets it. “This shit is messy, and what we promised you is worth it, so I figure if you really want it, you’ll stick it out. You think I like shooting up inside Finnegan? You think he likes us tag-teaming him like this? None of us want any of this, but we have to do what we have to do.”
I don’t know the details behind why the Saints have to do these things with each other, but it’s not my concern. I’m here for what was promised to me.
“I’ve been spying on them regularly since September, and I still have no indication that you’re gonna let me talk to this mysterious guide of yours.”
That was the promise—I bring back information on what the Sinners are up to, and the Saints will let me talk to this supernatural entity that can help me. Sounds fucking wild, but I’m out of options.
“The moment you start talking to him,” Preston says, “you’re not of any use to us. The whole reason we can’t do this ourselves is because we need to keep our distance from the Sinners. They can’t know we’re onto them.”
“If that’s the case, how do I know you’re ever gonna deliver? No. I need to know there’s an end date to all this, and either you get someone else now or then; either way, I’m not being your lap dog until graduation.”
His expression relaxes. Preston’s a reasonable guy. He has to get where I’m coming from.
“We’ll chat it over with the One when we meet with him.”
The One is what they call this entity they’re in communication with, the guide who helps them with their spells.
“And when will that be?” I press.
“Saturday after next.”
“Fuck. And I have a feeling I know what the answer will be even then.”
