Diabolical (14 page)

“I knew.” Nigel pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. “Willa knew.” He crosses to the fireplace and lights a cigarette. “Not exactly, but we’d figured it would be bad of the seriously evil variety. Her parents brought us, after all.”

It doesn’t make sense that someone, even a parent, could forfeit his own child in a bargain with Satan. Let alone someone else’s child. Surrender their own lives? Their own souls? Fine. But that’s as far as it should go. Even assuming they’re into soul bartering.

Why did Andrew drive himself and Bridget to the school at all? What does the mayor of New York City, who wrote Andrew’s recommendation, have to do with it? How many political leaders are tied to Scholomance? What percentage of the rich and powerful ultimately rests in Satan’s palm?

“Any ideas as to how we might escape?” I ask.

“Chain saw?” Lucy suggests, apparently for the hell of it.

Bridget adds, “Did anyone bring a weapon?”

“Confiscated,” Zach admits for both of us.

Vesper holds up her metal fingernail file. “They didn’t take this.”

“We’re dealing with the forces of evil,” I point out. “Not the TSA.”

KIEREN AND
I go to the gym to look for any hint of foul play in Andrew’s death.

As we stare at the pull-up bar, I ask, “Is that nose of yours getting anything?”

The Wolf crouches, runs a hand over the mat. “You, me, Evelyn, Andrew, and Mr. Bilovski. No one else has been here, at least not lately. Andrew’s scent is off, though.”

“Off?”

“I’m not sure.” Kieren stands. “At the roadside, he never got out of the limo. In the dining room, he exited around the other side of the table. Plus, it was crowded in there.”

“This was a mistake,” I say. “Lucy is no safer because we came.”

“Isn’t it up to me to decide that?” Lucy replies, exiting the elevator. “It’s been a crazy couple of days.” Her smile is slight, cautious. “We could start over. You said you watched over Miranda. You guarded her every day of her life.”

She strides across the track toward us. “I saw for myself a vampire in the cemetery. I’m willing to believe a demon could be interested in her. But I somehow doubt one stuck around 24/7, 365 days a year, for her entire earthly existence. Much as I love my best friend, she wasn’t that fascinating on a cosmic level.”

At the pull-up bar, Lucy adds, “So, prove it. Prove you’re Miranda’s guardian angel. Try again. Try harder. Tell me things about her that only her angel would know.”

Kieren shifts his weight. “I’ll head upstairs. I want to talk to the Bilovskis.”

As the Wolf leaves, Lucy pushes herself up on the nearby balance beam. She’s wearing loose enough jeans that she can swing her leg over.

“Careful,” I warn her. “You don’t want to break your arm again.”

Lucy bites her lower lip. “A lot of people know that. I wore a cast for —”

“You started your period when you were nine years old. You were home alone, though your mom, Susan, was just next door. She went over to borrow an egg from Mrs. Chopra and stayed to chat for a while. Susan had never told you about menstruation. She hadn’t started until she was fifteen. It never dawned on her that you’d start so young. You called over there, but a boy answered. I forget his name. He was a cousin, visiting from Washington, D.C. So you hung up without saying anything.”

“I forget his name, too,” she says. “That all happened to me, not Miranda.”

I stand with my back to the bar and raise myself to sit next to Lucy. “I know, but after about ten minutes you called Miranda. You told her all that. I was watching and listening, like I always did.”

Ultimately, Lucy will have to decide for herself whether or not to believe me. To have faith in what I’m saying, to choose her fate.

“The worst fight you girls ever got in was about Geoff Calvo, the varsity soccer star. After second hour, in the girls’ restroom, you said it was a waste for her to pine for him. You argued that he didn’t even know her name. You were tired of hearing her go on about a guy she knew only from a distance. You said it was Miranda’s way of not taking a chance on someone who might actually like her back. You thought she lived a narrow life. It frustrated you, especially when she second-guessed some of the risks you took.”

“I can be a loud mouth,” Lucy admits. “That morning —”

“Her dad had moved out for good, but you didn’t know it. For the first time ever, my girl screamed at you to shut up.” I’m uncomfortable on the beam. I don’t get off, though. I want to stay at Lucy’s level. “You never would’ve brought up Geoff if you’d known what was going on with Miranda’s family at home.”

“But I did know,” Lucy says, biting her lip. “Or at least there was this rumor that Mr. McAllister had been seen kissing some woman in the Holiday Inn parking lot.”

Lucy didn’t used to hold so tight to her regrets.

But at least now she’s finally listening to me.

THE SCHOLOMANCE KITCHEN
is stocked with modern appliances. I don’t see a door leading outside. “Afternoon, Mr. Bilovski. What did you do with Andrew’s body?”

Mopping the kitchen floor, he looks up at me in surprise. “Me? What makes you think I did anything with it?”

“It’s gone,” I reply. “None of the students moved it. Dr. Ulman —”

He shakes his head.

Play it that way. I start opening drawers and find only plastic and rubber utensils. No knives. “What about notifying the police, his family?”

“I mind my own business.” He returns to the task. “You should, too.”

“What
is
your business?” I ask, checking the counters. Paper plates and napkins. Flour and sugar. Spices and rice.

“I’m the handyman,” he tells me. “Mrs. Bilovski is the cook.”

That’s not good enough. “You know what this place is. Get help for the rest of us. Say you need something from town and —”

He wrings out the mop. “We’re beyond help ourselves, beyond salvation.” His weathered face crumbles. “We believed his lies and lost it all.”

Transcript of Call:

Vampires Quincie Morris and Queen Sabine

1/6, 3:45
P.M.

Sabine: Did I not make myself clear to Zachary? In light of his foolish behavior, I am severing my relationship not only with him, but also with his various teenage neophyte associates. You included. I hereby command you to leave me alone. In reward for your compliance, I am willing to waive your future taxes. That is how serious I am.

Quincie: Chill, Sabine. No one is asking you to prom. It’s just that he and Kieren aren’t back yet, and I —

Sabine: This is not my problem. I am hanging up now. I should have refused this call.

Quincie: Wait. You don’t have to lie to the Scholomance.

Sabine: If I am not to lie, then what would you have me say?

Quincie: Say
nada.
Don’t reply to the e-mail at all. Ignore it. Delete it.

Sabine: What if I find myself confronted in light of my lack of response? What do you suppose I tell Lucifer’s minion then?

Quincie: Tell him that it must’ve gotten caught in your spam folder.

Sabine:
You
are suggesting this strategy? You who keep company with an angel of the Lord? Is that not a sin?

Quincie: It’s the electronic age. If that’s a sin, hell’s about to get a lot more crowded.

LUCY AND I TALK
until dinner. I’m not sure she’s sold on my story, but it’s a start.

The atmosphere at the meal is somber. None of us mention being locked in. Or the still-blazing fires in the fireplaces. Or our specter of a teacher. Or Andrew’s suicide. Or the fact that we’re cut off from the outside world. We don’t talk at all.

Evelyn and Bridget keep obsessively checking their phones, though, like they hope that the lack of reception is a temporary glitch.

Vesper has begun tapping her fingernails on the closest available surface.

Mrs. Bilovski silently serves bread bowls of clam chowder with oyster crackers and fresh cracked pepper. Plastic soup spoons.

Finally, Bridget stands. “None of us really knew Andrew. I wish he’d given us a chance, but it’s too late now. Nigel and Willa never even met him. But . . .” She raises her iced tea, and I can almost imagine the lawyer she’ll be someday. “To Andrew.”

“To Andrew,” Vesper echoes without her usual irony.

“To Andrew, to Andrew, to Andrew,” the rest of us chime in.

I notice how carefully Kieren and Evelyn make a point to carefully sniff their food before anyone takes a bite.

That evening, I hole up in my room. I’m hoping Joshua will appear.

Kieren stops by to report that the new normal has started to sink in. The girls have been speculating on why Andrew killed himself. “Nigel is binge drinking and chain-smoking,” the Wolf adds. “On the way here from the airport, he had the limo driver stop and buy him two cases of beer, a fifth of vodka, and an entire suitcase of Lucky Strike cigarettes.”

Not helpful. “How do you think Quincie is holding up at the B and B?”

Kieren kneels on the floor. He’s trying to stare up the fireplace shaft without getting burned. “Better than we are.”

Most GAs know their assignments better than anyone else, but I’ve never been able to observe Quincie from an incorporeal vantage point. I wasn’t even assigned to her until she was seventeen and already undead.

The Wolf adds, “We’ve been gone too long. Her stress meter has kicked up a notch. She’s working on a plan B. She has Frank open. There’s a to-do list involved.”

Frank is Quincie’s nickname for her planner book, a present from Kieren. He buys the refills, too. No matter that everyone else on the planet is tech obsessed. Quincie likes flipping through the pages. She likes the feel of the leather cover on her fingertips.

Giving up the idea of a chimney escape, Kieren grins. “I’m also guessing Quince is the reason that Sabine hasn’t ratted us out to the administration.”

I’d almost forgotten about Sabine. With everything that’s happened, I lost track of time. We’ve spent our first night and whole day here. How many more lie ahead?

The Wolf touches the olive shell hanging at his collarbone, the one Quincie gave him for Christmas. “About the last twenty-four hours: it’s felt longer than my nearly three weeks at the pack.”

Apparently, not all the answers are in his books. “Time passes differently. . . .” I pause. That’s not quite right. “It’s perceived differently — in heaven and hell — than on earth.”

Kieren draws his thick eyebrows together. “You’re saying we’re
in
hell?”

“Or damned close to it. Even without Lucifer pulling strings, that may be enough to mess with our heads.”

Suddenly, the entire building goes pitch-black. “What now?” I ask.

“Lights-out at 10
P.M.
,” Kieren replies. “You want the flashlight? I brought it in from the car.” He doesn’t rub in how much better he can see in the dark.

“No, you hang on to it.”

I stay up until well past midnight, waiting. No Josh.