best counter
Search
Report & Feedback

Chapter no 23 – Winter

Ninth House

Alex trudged upstairs to retrieve her boots from the armory. The crucible had healed her wounds, but she was short on sleep and her body knew it. Still if sheโ€™d had a choice, she thought she might take another brawl, even with a bruiser like Lance, rather than face the salon tonight, classes tomorrow, and the day afterโ€”and the day after that. When she was fighting for her life, it was strictly pass/fail. All she had to do was survive and she could call it a win. Even sitting in the parlor with Dawes and Turner, sheโ€™d felt like she was keeping up, not just playing along. She didnโ€™t want to go back to feeling like a fraud.

But you are still pretending,ย she reminded herself. Dawes and Turner didnโ€™t really know her. They never would have guessed at what Darlington had learned about her past. And if the new-moon rite worked? If Darlington returned two days from now and told them all the truth, would anyone speak for her then?

Alex found a stack of clothes on her bed in the Dante room.

โ€œI brought them from my apartment,โ€ Dawes said, hovering in the doorway, hands curled into her sleeves. โ€œTheyโ€™re not stylish, but theyโ€™re better than sweats. I know you like black, soโ€ฆโ€

โ€œTheyโ€™re perfect.โ€ They werenโ€™t. The jeans were too long and the shirt had been washed so many times it was closer to gray than black, but Dawes hadnโ€™t needed to share her closet. Alex wanted to soak up every kindness while she still could.

As she set out for Belbalmโ€™s house, Alex felt jumpy. Sheโ€™d wound her watch tight in case theย glumaย was stalking her, stuffed a jar of graveyard dirt into her satchel, placed two magnets in her pocket, and studied the signs of warding needed to close a portal temporarily. They felt like small protections. The list of suspects in Taraโ€™s murder had become a list of possible threats, and they were all packing too much magical firepower.

Belbalm lived on St. Ronan, a twenty-minute walk north from Il Bastone, not far from the divinity school. Her house was one of the smaller ones on the street, two stories high, and built of red brick covered in gray vines like an old womanโ€™s hair. Alex entered through a garden gate beneath a white lattice arch, and the same sense of calm sheโ€™d felt in Belbalmโ€™s office descended over her. The garden smelled of mint and marjoram.

Alex paused on the path. It was some kind of crushed gravel the color of slate. Through the tall windows, she could see a circle of people gathered in a variety of chairs, a few crowded onto a piano bench, some on the floor. She glimpsed glasses of red wine, plates poised on knees. A boy with a beard and a wild mane of curls was reading from something. She felt like she was looking into another Yale, a Yale beyond Lethe and the societies, one that might open and keep opening if she could just learn its rituals and codes. At Darlingtonโ€™s house she had felt like a trespasser. Here she had been invited. She might not belong but she was welcome.

She knocked softly at the door and, when there was no answer, pushed gently. It was unlocked, as if there were never unwanted visitors. There were coats hung in heaps and in piles along a row of hooks. The floor was littered with boots.

Belbalm saw her hovering in the door and gestured Alex toward the kitchen.

Then Alex understood. She was staff. Of course she was staff.

Thank God she was staff and wouldnโ€™t have to try to pretend to be anything else.

Over Belbalmโ€™s shoulder, Alex spotted Dean Sandow talking to two students on a settee. She slipped into the kitchen, hoping he hadnโ€™t seen her, and then wondered why she should worry about it. Did she really think he had hurt Tara? That he was capable of something that gruesome? In the parlor back at Il Bastone, it had seemed possible, but here, in this place of warmth and easy conversation, Alex couldnโ€™t quite get her head around it.

The kitchen was vast, the cupboards white, the countertops black, the floor a clean checkerboard.

โ€œAlex!โ€ crowed Colin when she appeared. Murder suspects on all sides. โ€œI didnโ€™t know you were coming! We need extra hands. What are you wearing? Black is fine, but next time a white button-down.โ€

Alex didnโ€™t own a white button-down. โ€œOkay,โ€ she said. โ€œJust come over here and set these on a baking sheet.โ€

Alex fell into the rhythm of following orders. Isabel Andrews, Belbalmโ€™s other assistant, was there too, arranging fruit and pastries and mysterious stacks of meats on different platters. The food they were serving seemed utterly foreign to her. When Colin said to hand him the cheese, it took her a long moment to realize it was right in front of her: not platters of cubed cheddar but giant hunks of what looked like quartz and iolite, a tiny pot of honey, a spray of almonds. All of it art.

โ€œAfter the readings and the talk theyโ€™ll do dessert,โ€ Colin explained. โ€œShe always does meringues and mini tartes aux pommes.โ€

โ€œWas Dean Sandow here last week?โ€ Alex asked. If he had been, then Alex could cross him off their list, and if Colin didnโ€™t know, then maybeย heย hadnโ€™t really been at the salon all night.

But before he could answer, Professor Belbalm sailed through the swinging doors.

โ€œOf course he was,โ€ she said. โ€œThat man loves to drink my bourbon.โ€ She popped a tiny wild strawberry into her mouth and wiped her fingers on a towel. โ€œHe said the most inane thing about Camus. But itโ€™s hard not to be inane about Camus. Iโ€™m not sure why I expected betterโ€”he has aย Rumi quoteย framed beside his desk. It pains me. Darling Colin, please make sure we always have white and red at hand?โ€ She held up an empty bottle and Colinโ€™s face went ashen. โ€œItโ€™s all right, love. Grab a bottle and come join us. Alex and the others can keep things under control here, yes? Did you bring something to read?โ€

โ€œI โ€ฆ yes.โ€ Colin drifted from the kitchen as if his ankles had just sprouted wings.

โ€œMeringues,โ€ commanded Isabel.

โ€œMeringues,โ€ repeated Alex, walking over to the mixer and handing the bowl to Isabel. She snapped a picture of the kitchen for her mom and texted,ย At work.ย This was the way she wanted Mira to think of her. Happy. Normal. Safe. Everything Alex had never been. She texted Mercy and Lauren too.ย At Belbalmโ€™s salon. Fingers crossed for leftovers.

โ€œI cannot believe Colin gets to read tonight,โ€ Isabel complained, piping the meringue onto a baking sheet. โ€œIโ€™ve been with her a semester longer than he has, and I aced her Women and Industrialism seminar.โ€

โ€œNext time,โ€ murmured Alex, brushing melted butter over the tiny apple tarts. โ€œWas it this crowded last week?โ€

โ€œYes, and Colin bitched the entire night. We were here cleaning up until after two.โ€

Then Colinโ€™s alibi was good. Alex felt a rush of relief. She liked Colin, liked sour Isabel, liked this kitchen, this house, this comfortable space. She liked this piece of world that had nothing to do with murder or magic. She didnโ€™t want to see it disrupted by brutality. But that didnโ€™t mean she could cross all of Scroll and Key off her list. Even if Colin hadnโ€™t killed Tara, heโ€™d known her. And someone had taught Lance portal magic.

โ€œDid Sandow stick around for the whole salon last week?โ€ โ€œUnfortunately,โ€ said Isabel. โ€œHe always drinks way too much.

Apparently heโ€™s been going through some kind of awful divorce. Professor Belbalm tucked him away in her study with a blanket. He left a ring of urine around the powder room toilet that Colin had to clean up.โ€ She shuddered. โ€œOn second thought, Colin totally deserves to read. You have so much to look forward to, Alex.โ€

Isabel had no reason to lie, so Dean Sandowโ€™s bad aim had just earned him an alibi. Dawes would be glad. And Alex supposed she was too. It was one thing to be a murderer, quite another to work for one.

It was a long, late night in the kitchen, but Alex couldnโ€™t resent it. It felt like working toward something.

Around one in the morning, they finished serving, tidied up the kitchen, packed bottles into the recycling bins, accepted air kisses from Belbalm, and then floated into the night with platters of leftovers in hand. After the violence and strangeness of the last few days, it felt like a gift. It was a beautiful taste of what life might become, of how little the societies mattered to most people at Yale, of work that asked nothing of you but time and a bit of attention in a house full of harmless people high on nothing more than their own pretensions.

Alex saw a Gray in Rollerblades ahead of her, weaving her way between the lampposts, drawing closer. Her skull and torso looked like theyโ€™d been crushed, a deep dimple left by the wheels of some careless driverโ€™s car.

Pasa punto, pasa mundo,ย Alex whispered, almost kindly, and watched the girl vanish. A moment passes, a world passes.ย Easy.

 

 

Alex didnโ€™t have classes the next morning. She got up early to eat breakfast and to try to do a little reading before trekking up to Marsh, but as she was finishing her pile of eggs and hot sauce, she caught sight of the Bridegroom. His expression turned disapproving when she followed up with a hot fudge sundae, but ice cream was available at all meals in every dining hall, and that

was not an opportunity to be squandered.

After breakfast, she ducked into the bathroom off the JE common room and filled the sink. She wasnโ€™t eager to talk to him; she wasnโ€™t ready to discuss what sheโ€™d witnessed in his memories. But she also wanted to know if heโ€™d had any luck finding Tara.

After a moment, Northโ€™s face appeared in the reflection. โ€œWell?โ€ she said.

โ€œI havenโ€™t found her yet.โ€

Alex flicked the surface of the water with her finger and watched his reflection fracture. โ€œSeems like youโ€™re not much good at this.โ€

When the water stilled, Northโ€™s expression was grim. โ€œAnd what have you discovered?โ€

โ€œYou were right. Darlington was interested in your case. But his notes werenโ€™t in his desk at Il Bastone. I can look at Black Elm tomorrow night.โ€ When the new moon would rise. Maybe then Darlington would be able to answer the Bridegroomโ€™s questions himself.

โ€œAnd?โ€ โ€œAnd what?โ€

โ€œWhat did you see when you were in my head, Miss Stern? You were distressed when you cast me out.โ€

Alex contemplated how much she wanted to tell him. โ€œWhat do you remember from the moment you died, North?โ€

His face seemed to go still, and she realized sheโ€™d spoken his name out loud.ย Damn it.

โ€œIs that what you saw?โ€ he asked slowly. โ€œMy death?โ€ โ€œJust answer me.โ€

โ€œNothing,โ€ he admitted. โ€œOne moment I was standing in my new office, talking to Daisy, and then โ€ฆ I was no one. The mortal world was lost to me.โ€

โ€œYou were on the other side.โ€ Alex could see how that could mess with your head. โ€œDid you ever try to find Gladys Oโ€™Donaghue behind the Veil?โ€

โ€œWho?โ€ โ€œDaisyโ€™s maid.โ€

North frowned. โ€œThe police interviewed her. She found our โ€ฆ bodies, but she wasnโ€™t even there to witness the crime.โ€

โ€œAnd she was just a maid?โ€ said Alex. Guys like this never noticed the help. But North was right. Alex had spotted Gladys outside enjoying the spring weather herself. If Gladys had seen or heard something strange at the scene, she had every reason to share that information with the police. And

Alex suspected there had been no one to seeโ€”just magic, invisible and wild, the frightened spirit of a man who had been brutalized by the Bonesmen and somehow found his way into North. โ€œIโ€™ll let you know what I find at Black Elm. Quit following me around and go hunt down Tara.โ€

โ€œWhat did you see in my head, Miss Stern?โ€

โ€œSorry! Youโ€™re breaking up!โ€ Alex released the plug in the drain.

She stepped out of the common room and texted Turner that she was heading to the Marsh greenhouses. On her way, she called the hospital to check on Michael Reyes. She realized she should have done this sooner, but her mind had been elsewhere. It took a while to get the right person on the line, but eventually Jean Gatdula informed her that Reyes was recovering well and would be discharged in the next two days. Alex knew “home” meant Columbus House, a shelter far from campus. She hoped Bones had at least left him some cash for his troubles.

The Marsh Botanical Garden was perched atop Science Hill, its old mansion crowned by what looked like a bell tower. The grounds rolled down the slope toward the apartment Tara had shared with Lance. With no real security, Alex blended in easily with the students coming and going. Four large forestry greenhouses stood near the back entrance, surrounded by smaller glass structures. She worried she might not recognize where Tara had tended her dangerous plants, but as she walked the grounds, she caught a whiff of something uncanny beneath the familiar scents of manure and turned soil. The little greenhouse appeared ordinary, but Alex suspected it still bore traces of a glamourโ€”likely from Kate Masters and Manuscript. How else could Tara have cultivated her crops without drawing attention?

But when she opened the door, she was met with empty planters and overturned pots. Someone had cleaned the place out. Kate? Colin? Had Lance somehow opened a portal from his jail cell to destroy potential evidence?

A single, slender tendril of an unfamiliar plant lay in a pile of dirt beside a toppled plastic container. Alex reached out and touched it. The little vine unfurled, revealing a lone white bud. Its petals burst open, releasing a shower of glittering seeds like fireworks, accompanied by a soft but audible puh, and then it withered away to nothing.

Outside, Alex found a lean woman in jeans and a barn jacket digging

through a bucket of some kind of mulch with gloved hands. โ€œHey,โ€ she said, โ€œcan you tell me who uses that greenhouse?โ€ โ€œSveta Myers. Sheโ€™s a grad student.โ€

Alex didnโ€™t remember her name from Taraโ€™s case file. โ€œYou know where I can find her?โ€

The woman shook her head. โ€œShe left a couple days ago. Took the rest of the semester off.โ€

Sveta Myers had gotten spooked. Maybe sheโ€™d done the work of destroying the greenhouse herself. โ€œYou ever see her with a couple? Skinny little blond girl and a big guy, looked like he lived at the gym?โ€

โ€œI saw the girl here a lot. She was Svetaโ€™s cousin or niece or something?โ€ Alex highly doubted that. โ€œI might have seen the guy once or twice. Why?โ€

โ€œThanks for your help,โ€ said Alex, and headed for the gates.

She tried to shake off her feeling of disappointment as she made her way back down the hill. Sheโ€™d hoped to find more of Tara in the gardens, not just piles of dirt heaped like a fresh grave.

Turner had said heโ€™d meet Alex outside Ingalls Rink, and she spotted his Dodge idling by the curb. It was blessedly warm inside.

โ€œAnything?โ€ he asked.

She shook her head. โ€œSomeone cleaned the whole place out, and the student they were working with skipped town too. Someone named Sveta Myers.โ€

โ€œDoesnโ€™t ring a bell, but Iโ€™ll see if I can track her down.โ€

โ€œIโ€™ll check the alumni rosters to see if sheโ€™s connected to any of the societies,โ€ said Alex. โ€œI want to talk to Lance Gressang.โ€

โ€œYouโ€™re back on that?โ€

Alex had almost forgotten sheโ€™d feigned interest in talking to Gressang before. โ€œSomeone has to question him about the new information we have.โ€

โ€œIf the case goes to trialโ€”โ€

โ€œIt will be too late. Someone sent a monster after me. They killed Tara, stole all her plants. Maybe they got to Sveta Myers too. Theyโ€™re cleaning house.โ€

โ€œEven if I could get an interview with Gressang, Iโ€™m not bringing you with me.โ€

โ€œWhy not? We need Gressang to believe we understand more about all of this than he does. It will take him about thirty seconds to realize you donโ€™t know your ass from a hot rock.โ€

โ€œWhat a colorful turn of phrase.โ€

โ€œI saw you in that apartment, Turner. You almost wet yourself when Lance disappeared through that wall.โ€

โ€œYou have a real way about you, yโ€™know that, Stern?โ€

โ€œIs it my charm or my looks that you canโ€™t get enough of?โ€

Turner twisted in his seat to give her a long stare. โ€œYou donโ€™t always have to come out swinging. What are you so angry at?โ€

Alex felt an irritating jolt of embarrassment. โ€œEverything,โ€ she muttered, gazing at the fogged-up windshield. โ€œAnyway, you know Iโ€™m right.โ€

โ€œMaybe so, but Lance is represented by counsel. Neither of us can talk to him without his lawyer.โ€

โ€œWould you like to?โ€

โ€œOf course Iโ€™d like to. Iโ€™d also like a rare steak and a moment of peace without you yapping in my ear.โ€

โ€œCanโ€™t oblige. But I think I can get you an interview with Gressang.โ€ โ€œLetโ€™s say thatโ€™s true. Nothing we learn will be admissible in a court of

law, Stern. Lance Gressang could tell us he killed Tara twelve times over and we wouldnโ€™t be able to pin it on him.โ€

โ€œBut weโ€™ll still get answers.โ€

Turner rested his gloved hands on the steering wheel. โ€œIโ€™m pretty sure when my mother was talking about the devil, she had you in mind.โ€

โ€œIโ€™m a delight.โ€

โ€œIf I said yes, what would we need?โ€

Turner already had a nice enough suit. โ€œYou own a briefcase?โ€ โ€œI can borrow one.โ€

โ€œGreat. Then all we need is this.โ€ She pulled the mirror sheโ€™d used to gain access to Taraโ€™s apartment from her pocket.

โ€œYou want me to walk into a secure jail with a compact and a nice attachรฉ case?โ€

โ€œItโ€™s worse than that, Turner.โ€ Alex flipped the mirror in her hand. โ€œI want you to believe in magic.โ€

You'll Also Like