“Are you upset?” Peter asks. “You were interested in her once.”
“Operative tense being past,” he says darkly. “When she didn’t know I existed, and I was an Ellis. Since she’s connected the dots, she’s lashed out at me every chance she gets. We’ve had three conversations, and at no point did I know whether they would end in peace or violence.”
Peter glances at what he’s holding. “Lunch box?”
“Couldn’t find his classroom.”
“Ah.” Peter gives him a look. “You know, first impressions set the tone.”
“She told you?”
“Of course she did,” he replies, reasonable as ever. A faint smirk follows. “I’m surprised she didn’t push you into traffic.”
“She considered it,” Hiram grumbles, recalling the threatening glow of her amulet’s eye.
Hostility and flattery are nothing new, but Veda’s ire grates him. She isn’t committed to her disdain. Dissecting every shade of Veda’s gray is impossible. He should avoid her presence outside of what she means to Antaris, but too much of him wants to peel back each of her layers and disprove her accusations. Just because he can. Just because he wants the approval of someone he hardly knows. Which is baffling.
“Veda is paranoid for good reason, and just as judgmental,” Peter tells him. “She’s already ranted about you once or twice. But Idohave a question. She said you mentioned something incorrect in her file.”
“It’s a discrepancy,” Hiram amends. “Didn’t she look at it?”
Peter sighs and looks away. “No one enjoys reliving their darkest days, especially when all they remember are the worst parts.”
When put that way, Hiram understands. “There’s more to it, though, right?”
“There always is,” Peter says, checking his watch. “Shit. I’ve got a parent memo to send out about a staff member being a person of interest in the Botanist murders.”
“What?”Hiram’s icy response makes Peter flinch. “You should have led with that.”
“You were keen on ranting about Veda.” At Hiram’sgo onlook, Peter runs a hand through his blond hair. “Our staff vet, Dr. Simpson, might be involved—possibly against his will. The investigators are looking for him. All I know is another murder happened yesterday. An Oracle Council member named Lucinda Hampton.”
“I remember the name.” And what she practically yelled at him. “What happened?”
Peter shares what he knows while working on his memo. “Oh, one more thing. If you see Veda, don’t engage. Antaris has been the first thing to make her smile today.”
Hiram snorts. “You’re better off hoping we don’t cross paths.”
“True.” Peter shakes his head. “She can’t stand you, but she needs all the help she can get.”
Hiram raises a brow. “With what?”
“The list is too long to go through right now.” Peter sips his water. “Let me finish this. We’ll talk later. I’ll have Antaris’s lunch box delivered to his classroom.”
“Thanks.” Hiram mulls over what he’s learned as he leaves. Near the entrance, he spots Veda holding his son’s thermos. Her puzzled, pleased smile vanishes into an arched brow.
“Not today” is all she says before turning and walking off.
Hiram lets her go, but is surprised when he finds her around the corner leaning against the bench by the fountain. Heeding Peter’s advice, he continues walking, stopping only when she says, “Younevercome here.”
“I was dropping off Antaris’s lunch box.”
“In Peter’s office?”
“I didn’t know where his classroom was.”
Veda scoffs. “Unbelievable.”
Irritation sparks at her comment, but it dies when he sees the bruises on her collar, the scrape on her chin. Her hands are bandaged and trembling. She’s stiff, and the exhaustion in her eyes is unmistakable.
