“Okay.” Reed’s gaze softened marginally. “I hear you. But can I give you some advice? He’s too high up in the ranks. Grayson, I mean. The House watches everything he does. If you get in any deeper, it’ll be watching you, too.”
He turned to go, but she cut him off, stepping between him and the door.
What do you mean, it’s watching me?
“Your five minutes are up.”
She didn’t let him pass.Tell me.
She could see him debating how much he was allowed to divulge. Finally, he said, “Every club has its leader. We have ours. You think Grayson and I dabble in some dark shit? The chairman is ten times worse. He keeps a low profile, but he’s a real enthusiast when it comes to the occult. He bankrolls the whole operation. And if he knew you were messing around with his pledges—if he even suspected what you’ve got going on under all that pink—he’d come after you himself.”
A chill sank into her.But why?
“Because that’s what happens when you poke a hornet’s nest, Viv.” He peered over the top of her head, suspicion stealing across his features. “Who the hell is that?”
She glanced behind her and spotted Thomas veering steadily toward them, his gaze inscrutable.
“Do you know that guy?” asked Reed. At the look on her face, he said, “Got it. In that case, this feels like the right time to make my exit. I’ll get your message to Grayson, but do me a favor—don’t text me again unless it’s an actual emergency. The House watches me, too, these days.”
With that, he pushed through the revolving door and out into the crowded walk. Vivienne watched him go, ignoring Thomas as he drew to a standstill alongside her. Together, they watched Reed disappear around the corner.
“Who was that?” Thomas’s voice was deceptively light.
She readjusted her bag.A friend.
“Yeah? What’s his name?”
None of your business.She shoved through the door, exiting into the thick heat of early afternoon. Thomas followed, close on her heels.
“You’re upset with me.”
Wow, she signed, throwing his words from that morning back in his face.Nothing gets by you.
He flashed her a sporting grin and lifted her dance bag from her shoulder. “I’m not trying to piss you off. It’s just that you can’t bail on me like that. I’m supposed to interpret for you.”
Don’t lie. You’re supposed to spy on my friends.
To his credit, he didn’t deny it. “I can figure out his name on my own, but it would save me time if you’d just be honest.”
For a half second, she let herself wonder—permitted herself to imagine what honesty looked like. What would he do if she told him everything, right here, right now? If she told him there was something living inside her, taking up space, poisoning anyone unlucky enough to hear it speak? If she told him it was getting worse—that some daysshewas the girl in the glass, and it was the thing in her skin.
What would he say if she told him she’d found a way to carve it out of her?
If he knew that he’d been hired to make sure she didn’t succeed?
Thomas Walsh wasn’t an interpreter. He was a saboteur.
And he didn’t even know it.
P-h-i-l-i-p will explode if I miss dinner, she signed.If you want to keep your job, you should drive me back.
And with that, she stalked back to the car alone.
•••
Farrow family dinners were always a wretched affair, but tonight’s was worse than usual. Philip was in rare form, grinning down the length of the table at Vivienne as she pushed her dinner from one side of the plate to another.
“I’ve got a task for you,” he said halfway through his second helping of chicken cacciatore. Vivienne pretended she hadn’t heard him. She poked at a bell pepper and thought very seriously about stabbing the fork through her hand.
