Embry thought maybe nowhewas the one hallucinating. Or perhaps he’d been driven mad by too little sleep, too much caffeine, and an underlying savior complex.
“Please tell me your big plan isn’t that we sneak into the dorm and interrogate the entire homecoming court before dawn. I’m pretty sure that would get me expelled no matter how my current suspension shakes out.”
“Of course not. We’re going to retrace the killer’s steps before it’s daylight and we’re spotted. Put on something black and meet me at the gate to Raven’s End in ten minutes.”
“Iamwearing black,” Embry retorted, standing up to gesture pointedly at her fashionable yet comfortable pajama set. Even the piping along the seams of the sleeves and trousers was a perfect midnight.
Taking one long look at the whole of her, Rye coughed and gestured animatedly. “Yes you are, but those pajamas are also so shiny they’re bound to pick up the moonlight.”
“That’s because they aresilk.”
Rye ran a hand down his face, obviously aggrieved in a way that had a smile tugging the corners of Embry’s mouth. “Find somethingmatteand black, and meet me in nine minutes.”
“Wait,” Embry whisper-shouted and lunged for him, snagging the fingertips of the hand closest to her as he turned to walk away. Though her hold was tenuous at best, Rye acted as if she’d caught him in the kind of steel-toothed snare trappers used illegally forbears—turning to raise an eyebrow at her over his shoulder. “Am I safe beyond the residence wards?” Then, because that sounded especially pathetic, Embry added, “From Oakley’s family?”
Rye’s surprise softened. His whole body pivoted to face her, and somehow now he’d smothered her grip in his own. His hands were warm from his teacup, his full mouth a resigned line, even against the tender crinkle of his eyes.
“You weren’t safeinthe wards, Em,” he pointed out, gently for him. “I think the bigger threat here is doing nothing while this investigation plays out.”
She stiffly exhaled. One weekend of victimhood and inaction was enough. Embry had the sneaking suspicion that if she’d advocated for herself, if she’d done what they were about to do the second she stepped off campus, perhaps she would’ve been tipped off to the vampires’ plans for attack. Perhaps last night wouldn’t have happened. Perhaps she wouldn’t have almost lost the one person who meant the most to her in all the world.
“And Daddy?” she asked, her whisper nearly a croak. “Do you think he’s safe enough here with the wards and Dr. Goldman?”
“The doc is ex-CIA, so I think he’s in capable hands.” Rye squeezed her fingers and crouched to look her directly in the eye and on her level. “We make him safer by proving your innocence.” Yes, yes, this was right. She nodded. “Eight minutes. Raven’s End.”
Then Rye Knighton left through the front door like a normal person.
CHAPTER 20
THE SCENE OF THE CRIME… OR NOT
THOUGH IT HAD BEEN THE LACK OF A MODERN NETWORK OFsecurity cameras that had partially doomed Embry in the first place, at about four a.m. on Monday morning, she very much appreciated the fact that one wasn’t installed on the school grounds.
Breaking and entering into Raven’s Head’s campus was easy peasy. Though the Table had added extra protective wards to the school’s perimeter, the general wards recognized both Embry and Rye without cause for alarm and therefore didn’t set off the extra layer of protection. If Embry had been expelled, they might have recast them to keep her out, but as she was only suspended, and Rye was a current unpaid semi-employee of the drama department, they were accepted the moment they stepped onto Raven’s Head proper.
The full moon showed the way with its silvery, perfect light, illuminating the dew on the grass as they quietly whispered forward, shoulder to shoulder in black workout gear.
Embry had doffed her silk pajamas for running tights, a quarter zip, and a belt bag (about as fashionable as Oakley’s backpack, but in this case very useful) containing just-in-case potions and other handy items. Oh, and she’d traded her braid for a ponytail. Meanwhile, Rye wore black sweatpants and an over-washed Henley that was probably once as dark as midnight but was now the color of nearing dawn.
They looked like robbers planning on outrunning anyone who came upon them. Well, except for that fact that instead of wearing black sneakers, Rye had on his demolished Doc Martens. Not the best gear for a decent sprint.
Luckily, campus was quiet, and their movements went untracked.
“You don’t think she’s still in there, do you?” Embry asked, halting soundlessly at the edge of the fence surrounding the stadium track. She stood only feet from where that very last interaction had taken place, and the air felt leaden with all that’d happened.
“No. Lazarus confirmed she was taken to the Ravenwood PD morgue on Saturday.” That made sense. Still, Embry felt as if she were about to walk into yet another nightmare. “They also bagged and tagged anything of interest at the scene. You won’t even know she was here.”
He’d said it as a kindness, Embry was sure. But that was easy for him to say; he didn’t witness Oakley’s lifeless form on the backs of his eyelids with every single blink.
Embry still hesitated. “Then why are we here? If everything has been removed? We’re very good witches, but we aren’t trained detectives. Surely you don’t think we’ll stumble upon something the professionals missed?”
“Of course not. But if we’re retracing the killer’s steps, it’s crucial we start here, at the end. Then we figure out how they moved about before they put her on display like that.” Rye cupped her shoulder, squeezed, and then gently nudged her toward the rubber track. “We won’t be here long. I promise.”
With feet as heavy as if she’d worn Docs herself and encased the soles in decorative cement, Embry accepted Rye’s nudge and stepped into the Raven’s Head stadium.
Just as the torches outside the stadium hadn’t been lit, the sodium lights within were off, the moon’s illumination workingto shoot beams of silver glow off the metal bleachers, the white lines on the track, and the short blades of football turf.
Oakley had been displayed—Rye had used the correct term here—in roughly the same area that the stage had been for their homecoming court presentation. The pair of witches stopped dead on the track before the disturbance in the grass and glanced around.
