“Yeah, well, I couldn’t leave them home. Her parents don’t like them.”
His voice came out tight, and Colton cut him an appraising glance. “I can’t imagine why.”
“Well,Ilike them,” said Eric. “If we’re going on a demon hunt, I’d like a pack of vicous dogs on my team.”
“They’re cowards,” said Thomas, and tossed Molly a bit of food. “I wouldn’t stake your life on them. And I don’t know what Price told you, but this isn’t a demon hunt.”
“You sure about that?” Eric reached for another fry. “I did some digging into the House of Hades. It took a little time to trawl the internet, but do you know what I found when I did? An entire server full of extremely online loners. They were all talking about some dead kid out in Maine they’re convinced dug himself up and pieced himself back together like a jigsaw puzzle. I hate to tell you, Walsh, but that’s demon behavior.”
Thomas didn’t miss the look Colton and Delaney passed between them.
“This isn’t a demon hunt,” he said again, doubling down.
“What’s going on with Vivienne Farrow, then?”
Thomas gritted his teeth. “She’s having a hard time.”
“See that guy over there?” Eric gestured toward a man struggling to blot mustard out of his T-shirt. “He’shaving a hard time. Your girlfriend is shredding people’s insides to confetti.”
“Let’s refocus,” suggested Delaney. She was staring too keenly in Thomas’s direction, eying him as though he was a lit stick of dynamite. “Where should we start?”
“She’s right,” said Colton. “We can speculate about the House of Hades all we want, but the fact is, we have no idea where they are.”
Thomas considered what Eric had said about the House of Hades—about the server flooded with comments from loners. A sudden theory took hold of him. He nearly set the dogs to howling again as he surged to his feet.
“We may not know where to start,” he said, “but I’m pretty sure I know someone who does.”
“Oh yeah?” Eric shoved back his empty paper boat and reached for a napkin. “Who?”
•••
Hudson Turner’s house looked different without an armada of luxury vehicles swallowing up the horseshoe drive. Without the sparkle of string lights along the front walk, some of the home’s glamour had faded. The front steps looked careworn and colorless, mortar cracked and moss pushing through the narrow clefts in the stone.
Or maybe it was only that Vivienne wasn’t here, pink cheeked and pensive, peering back at him with promise in her eyes. Maybe he was just a living, breathing cliché, and the rest of the world faded to gray without her.
Maybe he wasan idiot, and he’d been so caught up in the idea of her that he hadn’t noticed what was happening right in front of his nose.
Hudson was already outside, halfway through loading himself into a spotless Ferrari. At the sight of Thomas and friends exiting their vehicles, he pocketed his keys. His gaze lingered doubtfully on Molly, who had begun to strain at the end of her leash, teeth bared.
“What is this,” he said, “the Scooby Gang?”
“Funny,” said Thomas. “We’re looking for Reed.”
Hudson’s brows arched. “And you think he’s here?”
“The two of you seemed pretty cozy last night.”
“Yeah, well, he bailed right before the raid,” said Hudson, his voice acerbic. “I haven’t seen him since.”
“How do the two of you know each other?”
“You can drop the detective act,” said Hudson. “Officer Appelbaum already stopped by the house this morning.”
“Just answer his question,” said Eric.
“I went to high school with Vivienne, okay? We know a lot of the same people. Our junior year, she met Reed at a local arts program. She dances, he’s into photography. They started dating not long after that. He was her plus-one to prom. That’s where he and I first met.”
“And, what,” asked Thomas, “the rest is history?”
