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“Good evening,” Sonder said amiably when he approached, carrying a whiskey. “Last hoorah before midterm exams, ye’?” He looked at everyone, saving Atta for last and holding his gaze on her a second longer than was called for. She very nearly broke out in a sweat.

“Ye’,” Dohmnall confirmed loudly. “We have to with you bastards running us around like whores on your errands.”

“Woahhhh,” Emmy grabbed Dony’s arm and squeezed hard. “Sorry, Prof. He’s a bit stressed.”

But Sonder only smiled. “Kelleher is an arse of the highest order. Next round is on me. I’ll tell them at the bar top.”

Cheers went up around the table, all except for Gibbs, who found his Guinness particularly interesting, and Atta, who couldn’t stop staring at Sonder’s lips. Judging by the smirk tilting them, he fucking knew it, too.

“Gibbs.” Sonder dipped his head to the lad, then turned those piercing hazel eyes on her again. “Atta.”

Holy hell. To her tipsy ears, her name sounded like forbidden honey on his tongue.

“Jesus,” she murmured without realising it, looking down at the table, and she heard him chuckle and say, “Have a good night,” before walking away.

“I need food,” Atta announced to the table. “Now.”

Emmy ran to the bar to order two baskets of chips for the table and two more rounds.

Atta consumed none of the alcohol and almost all of the chips along with a litre of water, trying to sober up. For the rest of their time at the pub, Sonder sat across the way at a table with Marguerite Vasilios and a few other professors Atta didn’t really know. But every so often, he would glance her way and smirk. Once, he even lowered his hand to his side and motioned for her to turn around. Had she been staring? Of course she had. He looked so devastating, and the alcohol had burned off all her sensibilities.

By 11:00 she was fairly sober and still sneaking glances his way. Jesus Christ. She wasactuallyfalling for a professor, wasn’t she?

“I need some air,” she told the group who wasn’t paying her any attention, and left the table, tugging on her coat.

When she passed Sonder’s table, he wasn’t there any longer. Stupidly, she hoped she’d see him outside. See him get in a car and go in the opposite direction she would be headed once she’d sobered enough to drive to Achilles House.

The street was still alive with people and lights and laughter. She curled her arms around herself and snuggled her nose into her scarf, watching them bustle past, wondering if life would soon change. There was one piece of the puzzle they were missing. Atta could feel it. Feel how close they were to understanding how the Plague moved. Perhaps if they studied live patients instead of dead ones. . .

A hand touched her back and Atta jumped. “Jesus, Dohmnall, you scared me.”

“Sorry about that, love. I saw you come out here and thought maybe you needed company.” He did not remove his hand from her back and she squirmed a step away.

“Thanks, I’m good. Came out here for a bit of peace.”

Dony was a good guy, really. But a salacious flirt when sober. Drunk, he was hard to reason with.

“Aw, come on. You know there’s a spark between us, doll.” He stepped closer and Atta stepped back. He wouldn’t back down, and Atta found herself trapped between him and the wall of the lounge bar next door.

She put a hand to his chest. “Dony. Stop. You’re sloshed.” He reached for her, and she jerked back.

A hand from nowhere lashed out, catching Dony by the throat and pushing him backwards.

A dark figure stepped out of the shadows, disconcerting plague doctor mask in place. “No means no,” he spat at Dony.

Relieved at his arrival, Atta laid her hand on Gold Stitch’s arm. “He’s drunk. It’s all right.”

“No, it isn’t. He should learn to hold his fucking liquor better.” He pushed Dony with enough force that he hit the sidewalk on his arse, several passersby with wide eyes giving them an even wider berth.

Dony hurried to his feet, sobering up quickly. “What are you? One of those secret society freaks?”

Atta’s heart pounded as she watched Gold Stitch saunter forward, stopping right in front of Dony’s face. “If you so much as look at her the wrong way, I’m the one who will make you wish you were dead. That’s who the fuck I am.”

Dony played it off, acted tough. But he quickly turned and darted down the footpath, headed for college.

“Is your car here?” Atta asked tersely.

Gold Stitch nodded once.