“From the victim’s house. It’s horrible. She was horrible.” I held out my hand. He didn’t move. “Lucian?”
“You shouldn’t read something like this.”
I made an impatient motion with my hand. “Yes, yes, I’ve heard that before. Give it here.”
He didn’t move, so I reached over and grabbed it.
The front door opened. I jumped and shoved the journal right back under the stack of papers. Lucian raised a brow.
Gabriel walked into the kitchen and stopped. “What are you doing here, Lucian?”
“Good afternoon to you, too, dear brother.”
“I thought you were back at school.”
“I took a leave.”
“You what?” Gabriel’s voice was forbidding.
“I will go back next term, if everything works out.”
“Explain yourself. If what works out?”
“My project. I have something I’ve been meaning to take care of for a long time.”
“What type of project?” I asked.
“No.” His features changed, and there was something terrifying in his expression—almost likefear. “Go back to school. The carriage will take you. I will talk to the dean.”
“No.” Lucian stood. “I’m staying in Gildon. You can’t control me, Gabriel.”
“I can. Youwillgo back to school.”
“Next term.”
“Thisterm.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
I stood to leave.
Gabriel pointed at me. “Sit.”
I sat. I immediately stood again, irritated with myself for following the command. “Why don’t you listen to what Lucian has to say?”
“Because I don’t care what he has to say. He is going back to schooltoday.”
“No, Gabriel.” Lucian’s expression was a mess of hurt and determination. “And if you force the issue, I will cut off contact.”
The devastation on Gabriel’s face was hard to witness. It hardened to iron. “I’ll cut off your allowance.”
Lucian opened his mouth. Whatever came next from either of them was going to be awful—projected in the way their eyes flashed and their stances mirrored aggression. I turned to Gabriel before Lucian could respond. “Why are you doing this? Just ask him what his project is.”
“I don’twant to know what his project is.” I wasn’t sure which was worse, the pain in Gabriel’s eyes or the pain in Lucian’s.
“That’s right,” Lucian said. “It’s your way, Gabriel. To ignore everything so maybe it will justgo away.” He swept the papers on the table, scattering them to the floor. The journal remained on the scarred oak.
