“You’re welcome,” he says.
Remy watches the exchange in silence.
This wasn’t supposed to be complicated.
I bite back an irritated huff. I never pictured him not remembering me. I also never pictured Erik carrying my music.
I’m not sure why he is agitated by my being here. I think back to my conversation with Meg. Oh, they moved here to get away from the Dark Angel and I just trampled his security protocol.
Chapter thirty
Remy
Fascinating creature.
Beautiful, one might even say angelic.She gives the impression of frailty. It’s deceptive.
“I was hoping you could shed some light on a few occurrences we’ve had at the opera house,” I say.
She blinks once and takes a careful sip.
“I’m not sure how I could,” she replies evenly. “Aside from rehearsal, I’m rarely there. But go ahead and ask.”
How generous. Permission.
“Meg mentioned you were both at the opera house before it closed.”
She nods. “Yes.”
Most people would fill the silence. Justify. Elaborate. Offer context.
Neither she nor Meg ever does.
Interesting.
I purse my lips. “You were there when Professor Thorne died?”
“I was.” She doesn’t hesitate. “But you already knew that. What is your actual question?”
Erik has shifted to the opposite end of the sofa, his attention fully locked on her now. Rapt. Unguarded.
I incline my head slightly. Fair enough.
“Had you heard of the Dark Angel?”
One shoulder lifts. The coffee cup never wavers. “We all heard the stories. It was impossible not to.”
“What did you hear?” I press.
She tilts her head, considering.
“I was never sure how it became a she,” she says slowly. “At first it was just… righted wrongs. Small things.”
Her gaze drifts, memory pulling her inward.
“A video sent to someone’s partner exposing an affair. A bully suddenly made very uncomfortable in public.” She licks her lips. “Petty things, really. Prankish.”
“How?” I cut in.
