“Not to mention that whole thing with his brother being linked to Death’s Teeth,” Percy notes.
I sit forward a little. “I thought he was a Curator.”
“He was. Is? I don’t know.” Percy shakes his head. “But those deaths and vandalism sites last semester were riddled with Death’s Teeth paraphernalia. Their insignia would be carved into the students or drawn on the walls in blood or?—”
Meg clears her throat, glancing at Aurora and Foxe, the latter of whom is listening intently despite his face paling. “Maybe we should change the subject.”
“But the Curators who kidnapped people are dead.” Percy frowns.
“That doesn’t mean everyone wants to relive the events,” Lexington says, throwing his book at Percy’s face. “Dumbass.”
Percy grunts as the book connects with his nose, leaving a red mark on the bridge. “Sorry for trying to keep everyone informed. You guys are such haters.”
“Because you’re annoying,” Meg says. “And we came here to run lines, not for a history lesson.”
We don’t have our parts yet, but we’ve been meeting up frequently outside class since auditions anyway, if only to strengthen our performances for the final itself.
Lexington and Meg break off into their own pair to go through a scene between Bianca and Cassio, leaving me with Percy.
“Go on,” Foxe says from the laptop, waggling his eyebrows. “Askhim. You know you want to.”
I toss Aurora a look. “Can you turn him off?”
“No,” Foxe says, grinning wider.
Her cheeks blush the color of her robe, and she closes the computer before he can say anything else. She flops back on her bed, rolling over to continue reading some thick thriller book in silence.
A part of me wonders if she and Foxe are mending things between them more than either wants to let on, but I don’t ask. It’s none of my business.
“All right, Percy. Tell me what you know about Death’s Teeth.”
31
SUTTON
White flurries falland melt against the cobblestone as I stride across campus, weaving between the student service buildings and the libraries, and past the Lyceum toward the old movie theater that no one ever goes to. The film department still puts the classics on from time to time, but a couple other faculty members and I are the only ones who ever attend.
The crisp March air feels good against my skull, which has been pulsing since I left a faculty meeting that felt a bit pointed.
Dean Bauer spent fifty-four minutes talking about the importance of avoiding interpersonal relationships and not obscuring lines, and although he avoided eye contact the entire time, it still felt like he was speaking directly to me.
Maybe that’s my own guilt seeping in. It’s been weeks now since I had an official change of heart where Elle Anderson is concerned, though not getting involved with her never really felt like an actual option.
I’ve been feeding Death’s Teeth bullshit about my investigation into the new student, but it doesn’t feel like I’ve done enough, especially as her popularity on campus grows. Atany moment, some part of me expects them to jump out of the shadows and snatch her from me the way they did my sister.
That guilt slots in place where the previous was housed, and I’m in a sort of limbo, torn between wanting to keep Elle out of harm’s way—out of Death’s reach—andneedingto be near her.
Her chaos grounds me somehow. I find myself seeking it out involuntarily, like a tidal wave I can’t escape.
A light in the observatory catches my eye. Even the night classes are done for the day, so the building should be empty and locked up. But there’s one girl who seems incapable of playing by anyone’s rules but her own.
My legs drag me in the direction of the entrance.
The door’s unlocked; I enter quietly, flipping the lock behind me and pausing when a loud whirring noise echoes through the main area. Up a flight of stairs is the massive telescope that Dean Bauer was so proud of getting a few years back, sitting on a wide platform directly beneath the ceiling panels that are currently open, revealing the vast night sky.
At the far wall on the platform, a woman stands with her hand pressed against a red button, looking out.
She’s in casual clothes I’ve never seen before—a pair of soft black pants that cling to her like a second skin, an oversize sweater, and a knit cap pulled down over her dark brown hair. That choker necklace never seems to leave her.
