Page 57

“Cleo, hey,” I say as my sister’s face fills the screen.

“Lia. What the fuck is on your neck?”

Too late, I realize the shirt I’m wearing does absolutely nothing to hide the vivid red bite. I reach my free hand up and slap it against my throat, covering the marks and drawing even more attention to them.

“Lia.Please, for the love of all that’s holy, don’t tell me you got that from—”

“It’s nothing,” I insist, dropping my hand and angling my phone to the opposite side so the mark isn’t on such prominent display. “It was just… a little undercover work.”

“A little undercover work? And what kind of undercover work makes it necessary for Casimir to bite you?”

“Some stuff with one of the covens. Philippe’s coven.”

That gets her attention.

Cleo’s brow furrows and her mouth tightens into a thin line. “What have you found out?”

“Not a whole hell of a lot.”

I give her a brief rundown of our progress. Or, maybe more accurately,non-progress, with all the dead-ends we’ve been running into. When I get to the part concerning Audra’s tip about Devin and tailing him across campus, Cleo perks up.

“She thinks Haverstad’s got something to do with it?”

“It’s a theory,” I hedge, even though my own instincts are still telling me there’s absolutely more to it. “And I’ll let you know as soon as we have anything concrete.”

Cleo, in her infinite annoyingness, doesn’t miss a single syllable out of my mouth. “We, huh? Since when is there awein this equation?”

“Wasn’t it you and Blair who wanted us to work this case together?” I grumble.

“That was firmly Blair.” Cleo frowns. “And since he’s not here anymore, we could reevaluate this whole assignment if it’s not something you want to—”

“No.” The denial comes out a little more forcefully than I intended, and I clear my throat. “I mean, there’s no reason to change things now. I’m good. We’re good. Me and Cas… Casimir. We’re getting somewhere with this.”

I fight a wince at the clumsiness in the explanation, and Cleo presses a little harder.

“You’re sure? I didn’t know if… if me becoming Director would have caused any trouble for you.”

My mind flashes to Cassandra’s hesitance, to the notice I’ve drawn from Marcus and Philippe, to my wobbly intuition and that unshakable feeling of being watched.

“I’m sure.” I hope my words come out more certain than they feel. “It’s not a problem.”

It’s uncanny, how seen she can make me feel even from almost three thousand miles away.

Cleo’s gaze drifts down to where I’ve let my head tilt idly to the side while we’ve been talking, completely forgetting about the mark on my throat.

For just a moment, her eyes flash with something that looks a lot like disappointment. Or worry, maybe doubt, or some combination of all three.

If I felt seen before, I feel all of two feet tall now.

The very last thing I want is for Cleo to be disappointed in me. Or worried for me. Or doubting me.

Even though I’ve given her plenty of reason to.

If I look at this whole situation through her eyes, it’s easy to guess why she’d be having second thoughts about giving me this assignment. I’m in a city I’ve been avoiding for half a decade, partnered up with a centuries-old vampire I was barely on speaking terms with a week ago, making absolutely no progress on the case, and then answering her call with a bright red bite on my throat.

It’s a goddamn miracle she hasn’t pulled me off the assignment already.

A clawing, desperate sort of panic lodges itself in the back of my throat.