Chapter 65
In the morning, while Darlington was working in the library, Alex texted Mercy, then went to check on Dawes. She was sitting by the window in a high-backed chair, her laptop open. She removed her headphones when Alex backed into the room carrying a tray.
“Darlington got egg sandwiches and I made a pot of tea,” she said. “Are you working?”
“Not really. I thought I would read through my dissertation, but I can’t seem to focus.”
“We all need some time off.”
Dawes fiddled with the napkin on the tray. “I guess I could go visit my sister.”
“Or—and I know this sounds crazy—you could leave Connecticut entirely.”
“I don’t want to.”
Alex sat down across from her. “Why?”
“I don’t know exactly. The dissertation was always the purpose. Get it done. Get published. Go on the job market. But what if I do somehow miraculously get a teaching position? I don’t want to stand in front of people and give lectures. I have literally had nightmares about that.”
“I’m not sure how many research positions are available in your field.”
“I know, I know. So why did I go down this path in the first place?”
But this much Alex understood. “Because we want the good to last as long as it can.”
Dawes leaned back in her chair and looked around the room. “I don’t know when this place started to feel like home.”
Alex remembered her own early days at Il Bastone, how alien she’d felt, an intruder, like the moment of her banishment was around every corner. It seemed as if Dawes had always been there, just as fixed in place as the sunflower staircase.
“The news is out,” she said.
Dawes’s head snapped up and Alex handed over her phone. The headline was from a New York tabloid: Connecticut Nightmare: New Horrors in Old Greenwich!
Turner had told them what he planned, but it was still shocking to see.
He had paid an off-the-books visit to Reiter’s estate to gather up old mail—it seemed even vampires had to pay electric bills.
Then he planted Teddy Rinearson’s beringed finger in the garbage where he knew one of his CIs mined for bottles to recycle.
Sure enough, a call had come in, and from there it had merely been a question of linking the other trash to Reiter’s home to get a warrant.
He’d made sure they brought cadaver dogs.
So far they had found the remains of at least seven bodies.
Alex knew there would be many, many more.
The estate, of course, was deserted, and Reiter’s own mangled corpse would never be found.
Alex had used hellfire to make sure of that.
Dawes passed her phone back and took a bite of her sandwich. “Turner is going to get a promotion.”
“A big one. Do you think he’ll still hang out with us now that he’s famous?”
A faint smile played over Dawes’s lips. “If he doesn’t, we can just threaten to show up at his mother’s house.” She dropped a sugar cube into her tea, stirred it, set her spoon down. But she didn’t drink. “Will you help me clear out his place?”
Alex knew she meant Tripp’s nest and she couldn’t say no.
They spent the rest of the morning cleaning out the apartment across the street.
It was less messy than she’d expected, and Dawes explained that she had told Tripp he had to keep to a modicum of hygiene if he wanted her to visit.
They unplugged the electronics and packed up his few clothes.
There were shelves full of sailing memorabilia and photographs of his family carefully arranged beside posed figurines.
“What are all of these?”
“Skyrim merch, mostly. Some World of Warcraft. Thrall. Arthas Menethil.”
Alex shot her a surprised glance.
“He was teaching me to play. It was fun. Relaxing. And the lore is unexpectedly rich.” Dawes picked up an over-muscled warrior with a massive sword and a heart emblazoned on his chest.
“Who’s that?”
“Leeroy Jenkins. Tripp’s favorite.” She set it back on the shelf. Then Dawes dropped down into the seat of the recliner. “I can’t do this.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I thought it would make me feel better to be around his things.” Her shoulders hitched. “I know he wasn’t … like us. But he was trying so hard. Most people don’t even bother.”
Like us. Alex wasn’t sure what it meant that she’d found herself in such extraordinary company. “He did try. And he got to be a hero in the end.”
“All for the best?” Dawes asked bitterly.
“I’m just saying he might be grateful for the exit.”
“Because he was feeding on me?”
“You knew?”
“He told me. Before the battle. He wanted me to know in case you didn’t make it. Someone would have to … to deal with him.”
A hard stone of guilt settled in Alex’s gut. What happens if you don’t survive? Who will stop me then? That night in the kitchen, she’d thought Tripp was threatening her, but he’d just been scared he would keep draining Dawes. She felt the sudden pressure of tears.
“Move over.” She squeezed in next to Dawes on the recliner. “There aren’t many good people in the world.”
“No,” Dawes said quietly, tears sliding down her cheeks.
“And even fewer good vampires.”
Dawes gulped a laugh. “True.” She wiped her sleeve over her nose. “We won. I want to be glad. I should be grateful to even be alive. But the world feels emptier to me.”
“It is and I’m sorry.”
Dawes leaned her head on Alex’s shoulder. “What do we do now?”
“I have an idea, but I don’t know if you’ll like it.”
“Does it involve lying, stealing, or punching people in the face?”
“No,” Alex said. “Just a little murder.”
Dawes sighed. “Let’s go back to Il Bastone. We’re going to need more than tea and toast for this.”
Later that afternoon, after many sandwiches, much conversation, and the deployment of the sacred whiteboard, Alex put on her coat and headed toward campus.
She didn’t want to return to the dorms. She didn’t want to try to walk by Harkness or hear its bells.
She had told herself she didn’t know if she was saying goodbye to Yale, but death wasn’t the only thing it was tough to come back from.
Mercy was waiting at a table at the sunlit counter of the Loop, a market and café with polished cement floors and corrugated metal walls. She was wearing a pale blue mohair sweater and a floral headband, and she looked colorful and stylish in a way that made Alex feel like an ill-tempered inkblot.
When they both had coffee in hand, Alex said, “You were gone by the time I came down from the tower.”
“Turner told us to go. After we scared away Nell and all those awful people, our weapons started to vanish. He said he wasn’t sure what might be coming next. So we went to Camila’s apartment and made pancakes and just … waited.”
Alex could tell Mercy had been frightened, but she heard the pride in her voice too. They had helped to beat back the tide. “And then nothing happened.”
“Nothing happened,” Mercy echoed with some wonder. “What could have happened?”
“A lot more Reiters. Maybe worse. But it’s over now.”
“Until the next terrible thing.”
Alex didn’t mean to laugh, but she couldn’t help it. “Pretty much.”
“I saw what Dawes did to Reiter. It was nightmarish but … gratifying?”
Alex couldn’t have agreed more. “I think that’s what the academics call catharsis.”
“I will not be writing a paper about it.”
“Understandable.” She hesitated. “Thank you for showing up.”
“I didn’t plan on it.”
“What changed?” Alex wasn’t sure if she would get an answer, and maybe it didn’t matter. Mercy had arrived when they had needed her most. The why was incidental.
“I prayed on it.” She fiddled with her glasses chain.
“When you told me to get anyone I cared about away from Harkness, I had to sit down and really think about who was on my list. And then I told my pastor. I wanted him to be safe too. I told him everything. I could tell he thought I was crazy. He said, ‘How do you know all of this?’ And when I told him I had someone looking out for me, he said, ‘You always have someone looking out for you.’” She glanced up at Alex. “He meant God,” she explained.
“I got that.”
“I started thinking maybe you’re the way God was taking care of me. That the monsters were already here in New Haven, and without you, maybe they would have eaten their fill.”
Alex didn’t know if she believed it, but it was a kind thing to say.
“You could have run away,” Mercy said. “But you stayed. And I want to be the kind of person who stays.”
“You rescue me. I rescue you.”
“That’s right. But I still think if you don’t stop messing with magic, you’re probably going to hell.”
Alex waved a hand through the air. “Been there. Done that.”
“You can’t stop, can you? Because there are always more monsters.”
The truth was Alex didn’t know if she would stop, even if she could. She had spent her whole life searching for scraps of peace, for something that looked like normal. She wasn’t sure she was made for it.
“I’m not going to finish the semester,” she said.
“You’re giving up?”
That was rough to hear out loud. “I’m … adjusting my expectations. I don’t know if I’m done, but I need to figure out how I fit into the world, and I don’t think Yale can help with that anymore.”
“You do look better. Like you’ve been sleeping.”
“I’m resting easier,” Alex said. And sipping on the pent-up resentment of an entire city didn’t hurt.
“But what happens to the societies?” Mercy asked. “Do they just get to keep doing what they want and we hope someone gets in their way?”
Hope had its purpose, but Alex preferred a plan. It was why she’d spent most of the day debating logistics with Dawes. It was a big part of why she was sitting across from Mercy right now.
She took a sip of her coffee. It had already gone cold. “Lauren wasn’t with you last night.”
“She went to New York for the weekend. I think she’s going to get a single next year.”
Alex couldn’t really blame her. Lauren wanted quiet. She wanted the peace Alex seemed incapable of holding on to. “What about you?”
Mercy’s smile was small and determined. “I told you. I want to be the kind of person who stays.”