Chapter 3
Chapter Three
There’s always one person on campus willing to give me a second of his time. If my friends don’t want to spend time with me, that’s fine—I’ll have lunch with my father.
Hell. I’m pathetic.
As expected, my father is spending his lunch hour in his office.
It doesn’t contain the same warmth as Professor Connolly’s, even though the furniture and layout are similar.
The most interesting thing in the room is the large painted landscape of the Strode campus.
Even his coffee mug bears the Strode crest.
Tobey was right when they said he has school spirit.
My father looks up from his papers as I arrive, his eyes flashing red before settling to their usual dark hue—shaped just like mine, but closer to midnight than my russet hues. “Margaux? I hope everything is all right.”
“Everything is fine. Does something need to be wrong for me to visit my dear father?”
“No, but I have come to expect a text message before a visit.”
With a sigh, I drop into the chair across from him. There’s no need to ask for permission. “My lunch plans fell through, so I thought we could eat together.”
“Then I’m an afterthought? You wound me.”
I know better than to take his dramatics seriously. He’s the one I inherited them from, I suppose, though one could argue that both of my parents are a tad on the flamboyant side. That must be why they get along so well, still madly in love after centuries together.
“No, but you are someone I’m choosing to spend my time with,” I say. “Some daughters wouldn’t be this generous. You’re lucky.”
“I know how lucky I am.” He chuckles. “But I don’t eat lunch.”
All he has in front of him is a pile of papers and a single, half-empty coffee cup.
Neither of us needs to eat, and my father has never known humanity, so I suppose he doesn’t understand the urge to indulge.
Unlike me—a dhampir—he didn’t grow up having to pretend he was normal.
While my mother once knew what it meant to be a human, my father can’t say the same.
He prefers not to eat at all unless my mother can convince him otherwise.
She isn’t here to do it, and I’m not up for the task.
“I know,” I say.
And I didn’t bring any food. It isn’t about the meal as much as it is about the company. He should understand. Mother would surely scold him if she weren’t busy jetting around Europe.
I’m pathetic. I should have gone to the cafeteria. Surely I could have found a friend to eat with.
My father smiles warmly, easing some of my worries.
“It’s all right,” he says. “I have a free hour as well. Stay for as long as you’d like.”
I slump in my chair, and my eyes close. “Thank you.”
“Well… it can’t be more than an hour, but you understand.”
“Yes, Papá. I get it.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” His stare is intense—I feel it even though I’m not looking. “You seem stressed.”
I close my eyes tighter. If there is one person whose small part in the play will disappoint, it’s my father.
He was an actor once upon a time. Despite understanding the brutal audition process, he still has high expectations for me. More importantly, I’m constantly comparing myself to him. Usually, I live up to the comparisons, but this time…
Well, I don’t expect him to be proud of the performance. Perhaps he won’t even be in attendance on the first night of the show, though he often is.
“Professor Connolly posted the casting list today.”
“And?” He lifts a brow. “You didn’t get Ella?”
Ella is the star, and I’m to be left in her dust. I’ve been gushing about the part for weeks, but alas…
Fate had another plan for me—a worse plan for me.
“I didn’t,” I whisper.
I’ve been unhappy about roles before. Even when it’s not the lead, when the role is one I can connect to and be proud of, the sting is easier to cope with. There’s no way for me to be proud of this part. I’m no one. Insignificant.
“It happens.” He smiles sympathetically. “Especially when you had such a disturbing semester…”
“That’s the problem. I don’t want to have a hectic, bloody semester. I want everything to go back to normal.”
“And it is normal now. Isn’t it?”
My father doesn’t know what happened with Amelia—well, everyone knows she died, but they don’t know what happened next. He doesn’t know about the static and the words on her monitor. The promise that the killing will continue.
One month. No body. But I’m waiting.
Tobey says we can tell him about what happened, but something stops me every time, and I can’t put my finger on what it is. Even now, with him watching me so patiently, I can’t get the words out.
“It is.” I hide my doubt under a dramatic sigh.
He lifts a pocket watch. It should be an ordinary action. He’s more punctual than I am, and he has places to be.
I’ve seen his watch so many times, but it does something funny this time.
It reminds me of Caldwell’s. The one we found near the body. The one Caldwell claims belonged to his mother.
It’s the same metal. The initials engraved on the back are the same looping cursive.
“What is that?” I ask, gripping the ledge of his dark wooden desk.
He turns to me with a frown. “What do you mean?”
“The watch. What is it, Papá? Where did you get it?”
“I’ve always had this.” He chuckles, setting the item down between us. “You’ve surely seen this before.”
“I have…”
Haven’t I?
If I squint, I can remember seeing it, but it’s never made me feel so cold… so sick. Magic comes from it in waves. I hold my arms, rubbing at the goose bumps forming across my skin.
“Then why are you behaving so strangely now?”
“I just want to know where you got it.” I stand. “That’s all. Will you tell me, or not?”
“How can I possibly remember where I got every watch I own?” He holds up his hands in surrender. “I’ve had it for decades. Is there a reason you find it so interesting?”
Short, bitter laughter falls from my lips. “G—” I choke on the word. After twenty-five years of life, I’ve never said it aloud.
I can think it, but the gods don’t want to hear my prayers. The lifeless deities and demons of the underworld cursed us, and heaven evades most of my kind.
“Margaux.” My father’s voice is stern, but I pay it no mind, marching to the door.
“I’m tired of your secrets.” Those are my last words before I find another reason to storm off from someone I love.
Perhaps I’m projecting. I’m the one carrying secrets, after all. Bigger secrets. But I don’t care. What is supposed to be an ordinary day has become one of the worst, and it is all… so… unfair.
It’s late when I return to my dormitory. I take some time to cool down, attend my evening classes, and memorize the lines in the play. Not only do I master my minimal lines, but the leading parts as well. Both of them, including Jun’s, in case a miracle happens.
After all, I would make a fine king. Much better than Jun-seong ever will.
I won’t hold my breath—though I can hold it for an impressive amount of time. Nothing is going my way, and the play won’t be an exception.
The campus curfew is midnight now that all is supposedly well. I don’t scurry inside until the clock strikes twelve.
Tobey may not be there. She and Caldwell spend nights off campus from time to time, and considering the sour note I left our conversation on, I wouldn’t put it past her to run away for the evening.
I’m surprised to find her tucked into bed when I enter our dormitory. Before I can say anything, she moves out of her comfortable blanket nest and approaches hastily.
“I’ve been worried sick about you. Do you know what time it is?”
“You sound like a parent.” I bend over, untying my laces and kicking off my boots.
“Oh, I’m sorry. There are still murderers out there. Plural. Forgive me for worrying.”
“You’re forgiven.”
I’m the one who needs to apologize, but I’m tired, and all I can manage is halfhearted sarcasm.
“Are you going to tell me where you were?”
“The library. I was studying. Have you ever been to the library, Tobey? This is a university, but somehow, I never see you there.”
An exaggeration, of course, and I know it will be a particularly frustrating one. Tobey was always the studious type, not me. The library isn’t my favorite place, but it’s open later than the other buildings.
I meet her sharpened gaze.
“You know exactly why I have no time to study,” she says.
I know many things—like that Tobey would love for their studies to be their biggest concern. In high school, they were always the studious type, helping me with my homework more often than not. But Tobey is right.
It’s Poppy. Everything we do has always been for her.
I’ve lived the last few months of my life for our late friend, and it still isn’t enough to appease Tobey.
Sometimes, I worry Tobey is intent on spending the rest of their life thinking about her, living for someone else.
I can’t do that. I don’t have it in me, but I don’t have the energy to keep pushing Tobey away either.
We’re better than this. I have to be better than this.
My lower lip trembles. “I don’t want to fight.”
With a sigh, Tobey’s resolve appears to break. She sits next to me, holding my hand in her warm grasp. “Then stop. Fighting with you isn’t fun for me, either. I don’t understand what I did wrong, so I don’t think I can apologize…”
“It’s nothing,” I mutter. “It all feels so silly now.”
“You can still tell me what it is.” She cracks a tiny smile. “You don’t need to take yourself so seriously. You’re allowed to feel silly sometimes.”
“It’s Jun-seong.” My expression flattens. “He got in my head, as he always does, saying I would have a better part in the play if I weren’t always”—I roll my eyes up to the ceiling, recalling his earlier words—“playing the third wheel. As I said, it’s silly.”
She wrinkles her nose. “That is ridiculous… of him. But I can see why it upset you.”
“Thank you.”
Her empathy does little to ease my mind.
“You know you’re never a third wheel with me, right?”
“I know.” I lift a shoulder. “Jun-seong always knows how to drive me crazy. I think he gets off on it.”
And I’m good at driving him crazy, too. I won’t play the victim. What I said about Amelia was a low blow, and I deserved a jab or two. It’s hard to know the score of our constant game of wits. There’s no winner or loser, just the two of us prodding when we shouldn’t.
“Stop giving him so much power.”
“I’m trying.” I let out a bitter laugh. “It’s hard when he got the lead part in the play, and I’m stuck as a nameless princess. Maybe he’s right. He’s the winner, and I’m a complete loser.”
“He’s not right. Not about you. No matter how lucky he is, that doesn’t diminish your hard work. Why can’t you both be talented?”
I scoff. “That would be the mature mindset, and Jun-seong Park is not mature.”
“But you are?”
“Yes, I am.” I squeeze her hand. “You know I am. Would I be here talking to you if I wasn’t?”
Tobey gives me a look of disbelief, snorting, and I half expect her to start another fight. But she doesn’t. “Point taken.”
“This isn’t about him. It’s about us. He may have put me in a bad mood, but I need to take accountability for my behavior. I’m sorry for being a horror at lunch. That was unbecoming of me.”
“It’s fine. I never want to make you feel that way—like a third wheel or that I don’t want to see you get the best roles. I want to see you succeed, but I need to keep you alive, too.”
“You’re right. It would be tragic to die before I’ve been in a proper film.”
“Exactly. And you haven’t even been on Broadway yet!”
We smile, and there’s an understanding between us. I long to be optimistic, to believe the school year is about to turn around for the best, but…
As much as I would love to ignore the monstrosities in our world, I can’t. I have information Tobey will happily devour, and I won’t keep it to myself, even though I don’t know what it means for my family.
“I visited my father at lunch, and I realized…” I press my lips together, trying to collect my thoughts. “You won’t believe this.”
“I bet I will.”
“He has a pocket watch.”
She chuckles. “Okay…?”
“You don’t get it. It’s like the one Caldwell has. It’s the same metal, with the same engraving on the back.”
Her brows furrow. “You’re sure?”
“Almost positive. He wouldn’t tell me anything about it, just said he’s had it for decades. And he’s right. I remember that thing. It’s always been around, and I never questioned it before, but…”
Tobey presses her lips together. “Your father confuses me. Sometimes, I feel like he’s on our side, and other times… I don’t know. He’s weird.”
I try for a smile, but it’s tight. “He’s weird in many ways. You need to be more specific.”
My father must be on our side. He was the one to protect us, letting us hide away in the estate when we thought we found the killer. Everything leads to him wanting us to be safe, and I believe that, but…
I also believe in Tobey. I have to. If we can’t trust each other, what is the point of everything we’ve been fighting for?
“He knew I was investigating the murders,” she says. “He was interested in it—like, highly interested. More than me. He asked me for names, and he seemed upset when I wouldn’t give him one. Now, he acts like he doesn’t care, but…”
“Go on.”
“Why is he so cool with me being here? He knows what I am—or what I’m not. Your father has the power to tip off the people who can kick me out of this school, but he hasn’t, even though it would be safer. Why is that?”
He’s right. Tobey, a weak human, shouldn’t be allowed at Strode. Wo… why is she?
A shiver runs up my spine. “I think we both know why.”
Amelia’s last words haunt me. According to her, Tobey is being kept here on purpose. We’re using that to our advantage, but she’s right. Tobey being here is dangerous, but she wouldn’t leave even if I begged her to.
If I were wiser, I would insist on it.
None of it makes any sense. What could they possibly want Tobey for, and is there really a chance my father knows about it?
Is he involved?
“I guess you’re right, but we should be wary of your dad.” She winces. “I’m sorry. That feels weird to say—”
“It’s not. I’m wary of everyone these days. Everyone except you.”
She glances out the window, and her gaze stays there. “We’ll stick together through all the strangeness.”
“And the stranger things yet to come.”
An eerie silence falls over the room. Strode University is quiet now, and has been for a month, but the horrors are still out there, waiting for us to find them… or to find us.