Page 17

The pinstripe shade of the patio umbrella was doing very little to deter the sun. The crowd at the hot dog stand didn’t seem to mind the heat. The line outside the truck continued to build, curving around the back of the food truck and stretching across the sweltering blacktop in a staggered serpentine.

Thomas sat on the edge of a picnic bench and poked a limp fry, the back of his neck steadily burning. The pale white starburst of a migraine clung to his periphery. His sunglasses slid infuriatingly down the swollen bridge of his nose. A thin line of drool pooled atop his knee as, beneath the table, Judd begged for a fry. Next to him perched Molly, watching the bustle with her ears pinned flat.

No one in the crowd took any notice of Thomas at all, and that felt wrong. Not one person was leering, or pointing, or whispering behind their hands. Surely, they could see that he was a cosmic event waiting to happen. Surely, they could tell that his heart was actively collapsing in the galaxy of his chest. His mood felt dark enough to swallow everything in his vicinity.

Vivienne had been missing for thirteen hours. Thirteen hours, with no one looking for her.

He didn’t want to sit here in the heat, his head pounding.

He wanted to do something. He wanted to go after her.

But he didn’t know where to begin. And that was the problem.

“Explain to me again how you knew about Vivienne,” he said.

Across from him sat Priory president Colton Price, examining his smoothie as though he had reason to believe it might contain arsenic. He wore a ball cap pulled low over a crush of curls so that the brim cast a shadow over his features. It did little to conceal the raised pink scar that extended from the left corner of his mouth nearly to his ear. He set the smoothie down without taking a sip, nudging it out of arm’s reach.

“It’s not me,” he said. “It’s Delaney.”

Next to Colton sat a white-haired girl dressed all in black. Thomas knew her, but only just—she’d been a fellow freshman during his brief tenure as a college student. Though they’d never personally interacted, the program was small, and he’d known her by sight. In any case, everyone had heard the story of how Delaney Meyers-Petrov was there the day the Priory’s Sanctum went up in flames.

“She sees dead people,” said Eric Hayes, directly to Thomas’s right. The Priory’s former treasurer reached for a fry and added, “Real M. Night Shyamalan stuff.”

“But Vivienne’s alive,” said Thomas. Or at least, she’d still been alive thirteen hours ago. He’d seen enough true crime to know the first seventy-two hours were critical. He’d been focusing on that. He hadn’t considered the window might already be shut.

That Vivienne might already be dead.

Delaney looked as though she knew exactly what he was thinking. “It’s not her,” she rushed to say. “Who I’ve been seeing, I mean. It’s Mikhail Popov.”

“Sorry,” said Thomas. “You mentioned that name before, but I don’t know who that is.”

“A ghost,” said Colton. “A persistent one. He’s been hanging around the house for months.”

“He’s connected to Vivienne,” explained Delaney. “I’m still not sure exactly how. He doesn’t say a whole lot. It’s kind of like a radio connection—unless I’m near a source of energy, the spirits don’t come through very clearly. But one day, the television was on, and there was a story in the news about a CEO’s son who’d died on a fishing expedition.”

“Bryce Donahue,” said Thomas.

“Yeah. That’s the one. The newscaster mentioned who else had been on the boat. I heard Vivienne’s name, and the lights started to flicker.”

“I thought we’d blown a fuse,” said Colton. “The electricity went nuts.”

“See what I mean?” said Eric, speaking around a fry. “Shyamalan.”

Thomas hand-fed Judd a bit of his uneaten hot dog. “How’d you figure out I was connected?”

“I looked online,” said Delaney with a shrug. “You were in the background of one of her photos. Colton was the one who recognized you.”

Unhappy with the rising heat and the growing crowd and the fact that no one had slipped her any hot dog, Molly began to howl in earnest. Startled, Judd joined in. It took Thomas several tries to wrangle them back into silence. He’d discovered—mainly through trial and error—that they responded to signs over verbal cues.

Finished , he signed, crossing his wrists. Sit.

Judd dropped to his haunches, tongue lolling. Reluctantly, Molly followed.

“Did you have to bring the dogs?” asked Colton, who was trying in vain to nudge Judd’s hindquarters off his shoe.

“You don’t like dogs?”

“I like dogs fine,” said Colton. “Those are the hounds of the Baskervilles.”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t leave them home. Her parents don’t like them.”

His voice came out tight, and Colton cut him an appraising glance. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Well, I like them,” said Eric. “If we’re going on a demon hunt, I’d like a pack of vicous dogs on my team.”

“They’re cowards,” said Thomas, and tossed Molly a bit of food. “I wouldn’t stake your life on them. And I don’t know what Price told you, but this isn’t a demon hunt.”

“You sure about that?” Eric reached for another fry. “I did some digging into the House of Hades. It took a little time to trawl the internet, but do you know what I found when I did? An entire server full of extremely online loners. They were all talking about some dead kid out in Maine they’re convinced dug himself up and pieced himself back together like a jigsaw puzzle. I hate to tell you, Walsh, but that’s demon behavior.”

Thomas didn’t miss the look Colton and Delaney passed between them.

“This isn’t a demon hunt,” he said again, doubling down.

“What’s going on with Vivienne Farrow, then?”

Thomas gritted his teeth. “She’s having a hard time.”

“See that guy over there?” Eric gestured toward a man struggling to blot mustard out of his T-shirt. “ He’s having a hard time. Your girlfriend is shredding people’s insides to confetti.”

“Let’s refocus,” suggested Delaney. She was staring too keenly in Thomas’s direction, eying him as though he was a lit stick of dynamite. “Where should we start?”

“She’s right,” said Colton. “We can speculate about the House of Hades all we want, but the fact is, we have no idea where they are.”

Thomas considered what Eric had said about the House of Hades—about the server flooded with comments from loners. A sudden theory took hold of him. He nearly set the dogs to howling again as he surged to his feet.

“We may not know where to start,” he said, “but I’m pretty sure I know someone who does.”

“Oh yeah?” Eric shoved back his empty paper boat and reached for a napkin. “Who?”

···

Hudson Turner’s house looked different without an armada of luxury vehicles swallowing up the horseshoe drive. Without the sparkle of string lights along the front walk, some of the home’s glamour had faded. The front steps looked careworn and colorless, mortar cracked and moss pushing through the narrow clefts in the stone.

Or maybe it was only that Vivienne wasn’t here, pink cheeked and pensive, peering back at him with promise in her eyes. Maybe he was just a living, breathing cliché, and the rest of the world faded to gray without her.

Maybe he was an idiot , and he’d been so caught up in the idea of her that he hadn’t noticed what was happening right in front of his nose.

Hudson was already outside, halfway through loading himself into a spotless Ferrari. At the sight of Thomas and friends exiting their vehicles, he pocketed his keys. His gaze lingered doubtfully on Molly, who had begun to strain at the end of her leash, teeth bared.

“What is this,” he said, “the Scooby Gang?”

“Funny,” said Thomas. “We’re looking for Reed.”

Hudson’s brows arched. “And you think he’s here?”

“The two of you seemed pretty cozy last night.”

“Yeah, well, he bailed right before the raid,” said Hudson, his voice acerbic. “I haven’t seen him since.”

“How do the two of you know each other?”

“You can drop the detective act,” said Hudson. “Officer Appelbaum already stopped by the house this morning.”

“Just answer his question,” said Eric.

“I went to high school with Vivienne, okay? We know a lot of the same people. Our junior year, she met Reed at a local arts program. She dances, he’s into photography. They started dating not long after that. He was her plus-one to prom. That’s where he and I first met.”

“And, what,” asked Thomas, “the rest is history?”

“Sure.” Hudson bumped a hip up against his car. “Ancient history.”

“Why’d they break up?”

“Look,” said Hudson, “you seem to have this lollipop and sugarplum vision of Vivienne in your head, so I’m going to try and say this as nicely as I can: Vivienne Farrow does whatever feels right for Vivienne Farrow. Everyone else is collateral damage. The night of prom, Reed found her cheating on him with some douchebag at her own after-party.”

“That’s rough,” said Colton.

Hudson’s smile was thin. “Isn’t it just?”

“Who was it?” asked Thomas.

“Who was who?”

“The douchebag at the after-party.”

“Jesus, you’re relentless.” Hudson scrubbed at a speck on his car with the pad of his thumb. “I honestly don’t know. Gray something? He was older. Like, statutory older.”

Something bitter swam into Thomas’s stomach. “Jesse Grayson.”

“Sure,” said Hudson. “That sounds right. Like I said, it’s ancient history.”

A second car turned into the driveway just then, suspension rattling. Thomas spotted Reed Connolly behind the wheel of a battered Jeep, heavy metal pulsing out from the open windows.

“Who is that ?” asked Delaney, just as Hudson muttered, “Oh shit.”

With what he felt was an impressive amount of calm, Thomas handed the leashes over to Eric. “Hold these, please.”

“Walsh,” warned Colton, but Thomas was already moving. He headed for the Jeep at a thunderous walk, his anger burning through him like acid.

His approach jolted Reed into motion. He reached for the gearshift, throwing the engine into reverse. The horseshoe shape of the driveway made it so he couldn’t back straight out onto the street without considerable braking, and Thomas took advantage of the delay to swing himself over the nearest hedge and into the drive.

Landing with a grunt, he planted himself directly behind the Jeep just as it began to pick up speed. The vehicle screeched to a halt inches from his chest. The driver’s side door flew open, and Reed climbed out, looking more unruffled than he had any right to look.

“You look good, Walsh,” he said. “The busted-up vibe is working for you.”

“Where is she?”

Reed didn’t answer. “You want to hit me? Want to even the scales? Get it out of your system?” He jutted out his jaw, giving Thomas a prime target. “Go ahead. Take a shot. Make it a good one.”

And Thomas did.

···

Ten minutes and multiple interventions later, the five of them gathered in the Turners’ kitchen. Reed sat on a countertop, a bloodied napkin pinched along the bridge of his nose.

“Who the hell taught you to fight,” he muttered darkly, “a mountain gorilla?”

“It’s not broken,” said Delaney, who’d spent the past several minutes playing the part of both mediator and nurse. She slid an admonishing gaze toward Thomas. “So at least there’s that.”

“I must not have hit him hard enough,” said Thomas flatly. He leaned back against the fridge, keeping Reed in his line of sight. “You’re going to talk. Skip nothing. You can start with—”

“Holy shit ,” said Reed, cutting him off.

Every eye in the room followed his gaze toward Colton, who stood stuffed in the corner, Vivienne’s dogs perched at his feet like a two-headed Cerberus. At Reed’s surprise, his mouth tipped into a scowl.

“Have we met?”

“No.” Reed touched the back of his hand to his nose. “It’s just your face. No offense, but your mouth looks like someone carved it open with a knife.”

Colton’s scowl flicked up into a smirk. “You should see the other guy.”

“No thanks.” Reed glanced toward Thomas. “I have to say, Walsh—so far your friends are way more interesting than you are.”

“So are yours,” said Thomas, “so it looks like we both turned out to be a surprise. Tell me about the House of Hades. What is it? A cult? A club?”

Reed’s jaw wired tight. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

“That’s fine. I don’t need the backstory. Just give me an address.”

“This is a little outside your job description, don’t you think?”

Anger blistered through Thomas in a white-out heat. “You think this is still about a paycheck?”

“Anyone with eyes can see this has nothing to do with money,” Reed spat. “I mean, look at you. It’s pathetic. You’re chasing after a girl who doesn’t even want to be found.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“God, you’re fucking clueless. You think any part of this wasn’t planned by Vivienne?”

It was a direct mirror of what Hudson told them out in the driveway: Vivienne Farrow does whatever feels right for Vivienne Farrow. At Colton’s feet, Judd let out a whine. Reed poked at the bridge of his nose, wincing as he did. Already, two angry bruises had begun to yellow under his eyes.

“How much did Vivienne pay you and your friends to kick the shit out of Walsh?” asked Colton.

“Nothing,” admitted Reed. “They did that part for free. They weren’t supposed to hurt anyone. They were just supposed to cause a little anarchy so Vivienne could leave unnoticed.”

“That’s why you bailed? You were part of the raid?” Hudson looked appalled. “Jesus, Reed. You and your asshole friends did thousands of dollars worth of damage. My parents are pissed.”

Reed appeared to chew on his words for a beat before replying. “I thought that was the goal. Pissing off your parents, I mean. Isn’t that the whole reason you brought a punk townie as your date last night?”

Hudson reared back as if he’d been struck. “Who told you that?”

“People talk,” said Reed. “Congratulations. Looks like we both got what we wanted.”

“That’s a good point,” cut in Thomas. “What exactly did you get out of helping Vivienne?”

“She pays my tuition,” said Reed, still glowering at Hudson. “I help her out when she needs it, and in exchange I get to graduate debt free. Not all of us have trust funds.”

Thomas barely heard him. He felt as though the entire world had been tipped on its head and turned inside out.

She’d played him.

She’d played him .

That day in the solarium, she’d promised to make him quit. And he had, hadn’t he? He didn’t know which was worse—that she’d done exactly as she’d said she would, or that he’d let her corner him into it. He hadn’t even seen it coming.

“Why?” His voice came out hoarse.

“You’ll have to be more specific than that, Walsh,” said Reed.

“Why did Vivienne feel like she needed to disappear?”

“Wouldn’t you?” asked Reed. “If you had a stepfather like Philip Farrow?”

“That’s not an answer, and you know it.”

“She needed ketamine,” said Hudson, who was staring over at Reed like he was seeing him for the first time. “That’s what she wanted to talk to me about, that day at the restaurant.”

“That shit’s potent,” said Eric. He sat backward in a nearby chair, his arms folded over the spine, looking riveted. “They gave it to my grandma when she had hip replacement surgery. One dose and she went right out.”

Thomas’s pulse roared between his ears. “What does Vivienne need a sedative for?”

But Reed didn’t answer. His focus had swung back to Colton. “They still talk about you sometimes, you know. In the forums.”

Colton’s mouth thinned. “So, you do know me.”

“I know of you,” Reed admitted. “I know you drowned. I know you dug yourself out of hell. I know your bones are soldered together with demon parts, and that makes you beholden, body and soul, to whoever—”

“That’s enough,” said Delaney, cutting him off.

“The guys won’t believe I met you,” Reed added. “Most of the pledges would kill to have a supernatural encounter.”

“Don’t call him supernatural,” said Eric. “It’ll go to his head.”

Colton ignored him. “Tell us more about the House of Hades.”

“You were right before,” said Reed. “It is a club, although it started off as a forum online. I wasn’t around back then, but at its origin it was just a few users posting random clickbait articles. Tabloid shit, you know. Some kid in Maine claws his way out of the grave every time they put him in it. A boy in Salem, Massachusetts, is hospitalized after aquarium plants grow in his lungs. A little girl is on a family trip to Red Rock, Nevada, when she wanders off and falls into a gorge. It’s hours before the rescue team finds her. By the time they pull her out, she’s packed to the teeth with poison. Anyone who hears her speak suffers a slow, painful death.”

It felt as though Thomas’s breathing had gone voluntary. Spots scudded across his vision.

“Eventually,” Reed went on, “the forum expanded. I’m not exactly sure how it all went down, but I know some man with deep pockets and a vested interest in the occult came along and offered to fund an annual retreat.”

“What’s the investor’s name?” asked Eric.

“I don’t know,” admitted Reed. “I’ve only ever heard people call him the chairman.”

Colton frowned. “You’ve never met him?”

“He doesn’t bother with the low-level pledges. It isn’t some open forum on the internet anymore—anyone interested in joining has to tithe for years before they’re allowed to ascend.”

Thomas didn’t like where this was going. “What does the club want with Vivienne?”

“You’ve got it backward,” said Reed. “Vivienne found us, not the other way around.”

“Why?”

“There’s some real academics in the House. It’s not all occult hobbyists and demon fanboys. There’s a surgical resident who’s just a few months away from ascension. He’s spent years feeding the House whatever it asks.”

Delaney’s nose scrunched. “ Feeding it?”

“Don’t like that,” said Eric.

“He’s a total prick,” Reed added, “but he’s brilliant as hell. He wrote a dissertation on the concept of a demonic presence as a removable parasite. Something you can cut out like a cancer. He calls it a clinical exorcism.”

“No way,” Hudson said. “That’s not scientifically possible.”

Colton looked unconvinced. “And how many successful exorcisms has this brilliant friend of yours performed?”

“None,” Reed admitted. “It was just meant to be theoretical. But he’s got a God complex a mile wide and he can’t function without praise, so he went ahead and published his writings to the forum. Vivienne found the abstract. And then she found him. When he turned out to be too deeply entrenched in the House for her to reach on her own, she found me.”

“A low-level pledge with no money for tuition,” said Colton. “I’m guessing you were a lot easier to manipulate.”

“She used you to get close to the doctor,” said Eric. “That’s cold.”

“That’s Viv.” Reed’s swollen eyes met Thomas’s. “As Walsh can tell you, she can be incredibly convincing when she wants to be. She makes you believe what she wants you to believe, and then she pulls the rug out from under your feet.”

“When?” That was all Thomas asked. One word, his insides in tatters.

Reed tsked. “She’ll gut me if she finds out I told you.”

“Tell me anyway,” said Thomas.

“Tomorrow.” Reed scrubbed a hand over his head. “He’s got everything he needs to set up a portable operating room; all he needed was the drugs. She’s scheduled to go under at eight a.m.”

Thomas’s thoughts slipped on their axis, the last pieces of the puzzle slotting into place far too late to do anything about them. “Who’s the surgeon?” he asked, though he already knew. “What’s his name? You never said.”

“It’s Jesse,” said Reed. “Jesse Grayson.”