“Everything go as planned?” he asks.
“Almost.”
“What do you mean, almost? My weave was air-tight.”
“I’m sure it was, but the grove wasn’t.”
Dred frowns as I fish my phone out of my pocket and hand it to him.
On the screen is the picture of Iris, Grey, and me, posing pretty in the grass, and Dred’s face twists as he stares at it.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
Glad to know that’s a universal response.
He takes a moment to zoom in on the details, as if he wasn’t the one who helped me move the body, and when he’s satisfied that what he’s seeing is real, he passes the phone back.
“You tell your girl?” he asks, slipping his hands back in his pockets.
My girl. That’s funny.
I shake my head.
Iris is dealing with enough as it is.
“And no idea who it is?” Dred asks.
I’m about to tell him how I’ve spent the last three days scouring the grove for a scent, only to come up empty. But I don’t get the chance before the phone vibrates in my hand and a new message pops up on the screen.
Over my shoulder, Dred reads, then pats me on the back.
“Oh, you’re fucked, mate.”
Unknown
47 Valorath Rd.
One hour.
Come alone.
Yep, definitely being blackmailed.
* * *
I rush through the rest of my re-shelving and make up some lame excuse to leave the store early. Something about pack business and the council. Something Tree won’t question.
He doesn’t argue as he waves me off, but I don’t think he believes me either.
He’s funny that way sometimes. If your lies suit him, he doesn’t care to hear the truth.
Although I suppose you could say that about most people.
It takes me almost forty minutes to reach the Demon Quarter. It’s about as far away as you can get from campus without running into the haunted forest on the East end, which is no accident.
Most people tend to stay away from the demon-folk. Too worried they might influence them to make a deal, or something.
But as for me, Mother’s favorite teahouse is around the corner.
