Anemic pale and thin enough to be gaunt, he looked positively vampiric. He wore his dark hair buzzed to a crop, his ears pierced through with industrial bars. Above all else, Reed was an art school cliché—from his combat boots and his floral half sleeves to the narrow slits in his brows. But he was other things, too. A club member. An occult enthusiast.
Her direct line to Jesse Grayson.
Her foot in the door.
He was, all in all, the singular reason Vivienne had enrolled in Stone.
The summer conservatory had been a key part of their negotiation.I expect compensation, he’d said to her that first night, when she’d come to him for help.It’s a private club. There are rules in place to protect the anonymity of its members.If you want to meet the guy who wrote this thesis, you’ll have to make it worth my time.
I needed to talk to you, she signed now.It’s important.
He groaned and scrubbed a hand over his scalp. “Two minutes.”
She held up all five fingers between them.
“Three,” he countered. “I’m missing class.”
Five, she signed, doubling down. And then, in case he’d forgotten, she added,I pay your tuition.
He chewed on his lip ring, and she could tell he was considering pushing back. In the end, he decided against it, slumping back into the wall with a groan. “God, you’re a bitch. Go ahead.”
I need you to give something to J-e-s-s-e for me.
“This is why I’m missing class? To be your errand boy? Give it to him yourself.”
I can’t. He’s not answering my texts.
Reed’s laughter came out flat. “I can’t imagine why.”
Don’t joke. This is serious.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Reed. “Did you think the gravity of the situation escaped me? Do you know how much trouble I can get into? If someone finds out I let you in on official club secrets, I’m dead. And not in a metaphorical way. In a six-feet-under way.”
Don’t be dramatic. No one is going to kill you.
“It’s cute that you think so,” said Reed. “Look, I told you to leave it alone. If I’d known what you were planning to do with that dissertation, I’d never have introduced you and Grayson in the first place.”
He’s a coward.
“He’s careful. There are too many eyes on him. Cut him loose, Viv.”
I can’t. I need him.She dug into her bag and pried out a manila folder, passing it between them.Tell him to look through this. I think it will change his mind.
“What is it?” Reed thumbed open the file and pried out the first page. “Money?”
It’s private, she signed, trying and failing to snatch it back. He held it out of her reach, his eyes going steadily wider as he read through the printout.
“Holy shit. Whose texts are these? Yours and Grayson’s?”
Heat crept into her cheeks. She tried again to snatch the file back from him.
“And they say romance is dead,” he marveled, sliding the papers back into the folder and sealing it shut. “This is blackmail.”
It’s motivation.
“That’s one word for it.” He tucked the folder into his portfolio. “Here’s the thing—Grayson is part of a whole. All of us are. That’s the deal we make when we join. You can’t bully him into doing your little DIY exorcism without getting the rest of the House involved, and I don’t think you’ve really stopped to evaluate what that means.”
I don’t have a choice, Vivienne signed. She ground her teeth, as though by doing so, she could choke down the wriggling within her—could keep the Vivienne with sharp teeth and cryptid eyes from swallowing her whole.It’s getting worse.
