Page 23 of Lessons with the Mothman (Monster Smash Agency)

CHAPTER 23

Victoria

Chicago had caught on to the fact that it was fall, and the sudden snap of cold arrived, bitter and spiteful, turning the leaves an array of rust and orange and brown, ripping them off branches to swirl over sidewalks.

I lifted my chin out of the nest of my scarf and let the cold air bite at my face. Soon the lake would have its revenge on the city, bringing sleet and hail and rain, but today the sun was out and it was chilly and perfectly autumnal. I'd finally been able to comfortably switch from iced to hot coffee this morning, and I was happy.

"There's a rumor going around," Lyle said, walking through campus at my side.

My steps stuttered, and I resisted the impulse to blurt out, About me?

Lyle's steps slowed, and he glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes, burrowing deeper into his coat and scarf. "Stanton."

This time I couldn't resist, and I stopped. "About me?" Most students had their heads down, hurrying to class, and it was easy to catch a moment of privacy.

Lyle shook his head, frowning. "A few grad students have gone to the dean. Sexual harassment."

" What? "

Lyle stared back at me for a moment and then gutted me with three words. "Are you surprised?"

The blood rushed from my face, leaving me properly frozen all at once. I was surprised. Was that wrong of me?

"You're not the only student he's had an affair with," Lyle said gently, stepping closer. "It stands to reason that if he's had a pattern of successes, he's had a pattern of failures too."

I shut my mouth, shrinking into my shoulders. If I hadn't been pleased by Stanton's interest in me, would I have been able to find a moment he'd crossed a line?

Yes.

"Holy shit," I breathed out. "What…what are they doing?"

"It's fairly new. But there's talk of an investigation."

For a sick, guilty moment, I wondered what it would mean for my study. And then I blinked and shook myself. A pattern.

"God," I whispered, one hand lifting to cover my eyes.

Lyle caught me as I staggered and drew me into his chest, arms wrapping around me. And it was so easy to relax for once, a relief of white noise buzzing in my brain as I accepted the sanctuary of a hug.

"We'll hear more about it, but I wanted you to have an early warning."

I nodded. "Thank you."

I was still thinking about the bomb Lyle had dropped the next day with my mom and Emma.

Stanton had been an escape from my facade of a relationship with Brett, and I'd been grateful for him at the time. And later, when the shine had worn off and the uneasy reality had settled in, I'd settled for accepting.

Now, I didn't know what I felt.

So I sat, holding a glass of champagne that was growing flat and warm, because the thought of drinking it made me queasy, and wearing a smile my mother had taught me as my sister tried on wedding dresses for her marriage to my former fiancé.

I was happy for Emma. I had no regrets about leaving Brett.

But I should've done it without an affair .

What had happened with Stanton? Had he seduced me, or was it the other way around? It'd seemed natural at the time, but could I pick out the overtures now and look at them differently? Did I even want to?

"Ben mentioned that you haven't called."

There was a soft giggle from the dressing room where Emma was being fussed over, and the sound helped me relax back against the overstuffed white couch.

"Who?" I asked, blinking at my mother.

Kathy rose up from my mother's side and wandered from the back room into the storefront. She and Mom had already had a handful of spats over the dresses they'd sent back to Emma, but I could tell Emma was too excited to really care about their bickering.

"Ben Stone," my mother said, and when I remained staring blankly back at her, she huffed and rolled her eyes. " Ben , Vicky. Your father and I introduced the?—"

I jerked back, nearly splashing the champagne in my hand. "Oh! God, I completely forgot about him," I said, a laugh escaping me as I leaned forward, giving up the glass. I didn't want to drink anyway.

"Evidently. I imagine you don't like the idea of being set up by your father and me," my mother started.

"I don't," I agreed blithely.

"But he's a charming man, and he has a sister in academia?—"

"Mom, I'm not?—"

"Okay, first one is almost ready," a woman called to us from the dressing room.

"Vicky," Kathy said, reappearing with flushed cheeks and a strange and previously unheard of giggle. "Your friend is here."

He had asked where Emma's appointment was when I'd turned down lunch at the bar, but I'd never imagined…

"Ta-da!" Emma cried, bursting from the dressing room in a great heave of sighing satin.

"Hello, darling," Elias purred, following Kathy into the room.

"What do you—Oh!" Emma paused, one foot poised to step onto the platform at the center of the room, her mouth open and her eyes wide as she stared at the doorway.

Kathy stepped back, making room for Elias, or at least giving herself room to admire him.

My heart gave an awkward pang just at the sight of him. The lighting of the boutique's dressing room was designed to flatter nervous brides to be, but it made Elias's golden wings and fur absolutely radiant.

"Oh, dear," Elias said, shoulders hunching in a perfect imitation of sheepishness. "I didn't mean to interrupt a reveal."

He was holding a cup tray with four lidded drinks, and he was dressed in that devastatingly casual but meticulous way of his. And he was brilliant, and it was so obvious by the delighted fascination on Kathy's, Emma's, and my mother's faces that they'd never seen anyone like him before.

Moth fae were rare, as Elias liked to point out.

And even if they weren't, I knew few of them could possibly be as beautiful as Elias.

I was standing, although I couldn't remember rising, and Elias's eyes found mine, that gentle smile faltering for a moment before stretching wider.

"I shouldn't be here, I know," he said. "I just wanted to bring you all a treat, since I was passing by."

Liar .

"Vicky," my mother murmured, so sweet, all her carefully portioned sugar in two words. "Introduce us."

It was the perfect time to put Elias in his place, to draw the boundary wall back up between us, but I was too shocked to get the words out. And Elias was quick.

"You must be Victoria's mother." Elias's smooth, cultured tone was a perfect match for my mother's as he reached out a hand for hers.

"Grace," my mother cooed back.

"Grace. I'm Elias, Victoria's boyfriend."

The dense cushion of the couch rose up to meet me, my breath rushing out at once. Elias's eyes made a barely perceptible wince. What was he doing ?

"Emma, I'm so sorry. You look lovely ," Elias said with a sincere duck of his head. And it struck me suddenly that it was his first moment of sincerity since swanning into the bridal boutique. Everything else had been him playing yet another role.

But roles were for when he and I were alone. Not for him to come barreling into my life, around my fucking family .

"The beading is exquisite," he continued, delivering my sister a dazzling smile.

Emma blinked, her own smile shy and perfect in return. "Thank you. You just surprised us. Vic didn't mention you. That you'd be coming by, that is!"

"I shouldn't have," Elias said, teasing.

I rose up from the couch, and even though I wanted to shout at him, or snarl, or baldly correct the statement he'd just made, or ask him what the fuck he was thinking, I lifted the mask I'd been raised in, the one my mother would've demanded for such an occasion.

I smiled and said not quite sweetly, "You really shouldn't have."

"Well, I'm delighted to meet you," my mother chimed in, and she reached out and squeezed Elias's arm, and even he looked startled by that. No, grand Elias, rare moth fae, would not have expected an uninvited squeeze of the arm. It served him right. "Vicky is so private—who knows when we would've gotten the chance."

Elias straightened and looked at me, and it didn't matter if he was playing the role of charming, smitten, helpless boyfriend and I was playing the role of unflappable daughter of Grace Dempsey. We knew each other too well now not to see through the lie.

He had made a mistake.

I was angry.

"I should go," Elias said softly, offering Emma another quick smile.

"No, no," my mother, sister, and Kathy rushed to say.

"This is a special moment for you, and I'm a stranger," Elias laughed up to Emma.

Emma smiled back and shrugged. "Don't worry, this one isn't the dress anyway," she said easily.

"Before you go, we should arrange a dinner," my mother said, trying to catch Elias by the arm again. He was prepared this time, stepping out of the way, toward me.

"I'll walk you out," I said.

"Vicky," my mother huffed, laughing, beaming at Elias. Because he was beautiful and gleaming and my mother had a nose for good money and good reputations.

"Later," I said to her, not quite snapping, but enough for Kathy to hide a smirk behind her champagne glass.

"The coffees," Elias said to me, and I wondered if I imagined the slightly indignant stiffness to his posture, like I had offended him with my anger .

"No outside drinks allowed," said one of the staff, who'd been watching us with smiles that were almost grimaces. "All the white."

Elias's laugh was slightly fragile. "Of course."

I walked ahead of him, steps silent on the thick carpet, out onto the sales floor where three young women were sighing at the dresses on display.

"Well, I mucked that up," Elias said under his breath, a wishfully friendly murmur. "I meant the timing to be more…or at least less…"

I threw my body into the heavy, tall handles of the door, and downtown Chicago arrived at top volume, a siren in the distance, tourists rushing out of the subway toward Magnificent Mile.

"Victoria," Elias said as I debated whether to hold the door open or turn my back on him without a word.

No. No, he deserved a few words.

He didn't flinch when I grabbed his arm but let me drag him down the sidewalk and into a too fragrant alley a few doors down.

"I just wanted to see you," Elias said, eyes wide and innocent, still holding that tray of coffees.

For a little flicker of a moment, I wondered what he'd ordered me.

"I wasn't thinking," he continued, voice too gentle for my temper.

"Yes, you were," I said.

He blinked at me. "I?—"

"Elias. You were thinking. You are always thinking, planning, writing a script in your head for the rest of us to follow."

He straightened and frowned, glancing down the alleyway and out to the sidewalk in confusion. "I understand that that was the wrong time to introduce myself to your family. It interrupted Emma's time. I'm genuinely sorry."

He was. And he should be. And it was a solid chunk of why I was angry, but not all of it.

"Elias, look at me," I snapped. His brow furrowed—insulted, no doubt—but he did so. "You are not my boyfriend."

"Victoria—"

"You are not my boyfriend. You are trying to play a role, but this one requires a fucking invitation!"

He stepped back, eyes wide.

"Showing up at my work, insinuating yourself into a significant moment for my family? What the fuck, Elias?"

His mouth hung open for a moment, gaze vacant.

"Sending the flowers, trying to see me every day," I continued to list off.

"You object to seeing me?" he asked, his own tone sharpening.

"I object to you trying to force a romance between us!" I cried out. "Out of, what, thin air? You are assisting my research, and we are fucking . That is all ."

I'd never really been that interested in theater, but I knew what I was seeing as Elias's expression smoothed and softened, then a perfect, gentle smile rounded his lips. He reached his free hand up to my cheek, and a sliver of a shiver traced through me, proving that the lines I'd drawn around us weren't quite right.

"I love you, Victoria," he said, husky and heavy and yearning.

Oh. It hurt to hear those words, so sweet, so carefully injected with all the meaning of the words. My cheek leaned into his palm, and I refused the sting in my eyes.

I sighed and Elias smiled, thinking he'd won.

"Elias, do you even know when you're lying?"

He stiffened, and his hand drew back. I lifted my head and waited a moment. Was I giving him room to object, or to let it sink in?

"This is not a game. You can't just decide to love, and have it be true," I said.

His hand dropped to his side, and his chin hiked up higher, staring over my head.

"I will do the interview with Otis alone. If you feel unable to continue working with me, I understand. Just please don't?—"

"I would never risk your study," Elias rasped, staring out at the sidewalk.

I nodded. "We can discuss this more later, but I need to get back to my sister."

"Of course," he said, studying the alley, stepping toward a dumpster and tossing in the coffees.

Irrationally, that gesture made my heart ache.

"I apologize for my presumption," Elias said, studying me for a moment, then he turned and left the alley.

The dark eyes of his wings stared accusingly at me as he walked away, and I fought back the urge to call out to him, words tangling in my throat, a hot warning rising in my eyes, threatening to spill over. I covered my face with my hands for a moment, but my mother's eager voice in my head quelled any regrets. I just needed a moment to put the mask back on.

"There's a lot of talk about you, you know," Otis, a shaggy yeti with a gruesome smile, said as he stood from the chair, his head nearly brushing the ceiling of the little campus study room.

"Oh?" I asked, gathering my papers.

"First it was because you were working with the moth," Otis said, shrugging. "But now it's just because everyone you interview is getting curious."

"Curious?" I repeated, steeling my expression as I looked up.

He nodded. "About your study. And about you. You're interested in us, but not in the usual way. You want to know what makes us the same and what makes us different. Generally, it's just the latter."

I was too aware of Stanton in the room, waiting in the corner. Too aware of Elias's absence. I couldn't think of an answer. I was having a hard time thinking at all this week.

"It's not one or the other. I think I just want to know everything ," I said.

Otis grinned, carnivorous smile on full display.

"Academic minds," Stanton said. He'd been quiet today. I wondered if it was Elias that had made him interject so much last time, or if the rumors Lyle had told me about were now weighing on him.

Otis flapped his arms in a shrug, dangling hands slapping at his knees. "Whatever it is, I'm glad Elias called. It was nice to meet you at last."

My smile was easier to fake this time. Otis was terrifying but sweet. "It was nice to meet you too."

"See you at Nightlight sometime," Otis said as he lumbered toward the door.

I resisted the urge to crumple as if I'd been punched in the chest.

Stanton remained quiet as Otis all but crouched his way out of the doorframe and made his way off campus. I remained with my back to the room. I needed a moment by myself.

The door clicked shut and I sighed. I turned and then stiffened.

Stanton was still here, his hand on the door he'd just closed.

I swallowed hard and straightened, lifting my bag over my shoulder. "I know you probably want to discuss the interview, but I've got to get to my shift?—"

"Vic, I need a minute," Phillip said, his voice rough.

Actually, all of him was a bit rough. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his clothes didn't look so precisely casual and welcoming, more just wrinkled.

I crossed my arms in front of me, holding my bag to my waist like a shield, and waited for him to speak.

"I know you've heard the rumors," he said, staring at me out of those bloodshot eyes.

He looked older, like it had come over him all in the past two weeks. He waited for my answer, but I didn't want to have this conversation. I hadn't even begun to reconcile my thoughts since Lyle had spoken to me. Elias had bulldozed through that issue with an entirely new one to haunt me.

Phillip laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. "Of course you have. Everyone has. Vic, I—" He stepped forward, and I stepped back without thinking. His eyes grew a little wild and then he recovered, taking a deep breath. "I want to remind you, Victoria, that anything that occurred between us in the past was consensual."

I frowned. "I know that."

He nodded. "Good. It just wouldn't be wise for you to be…contributing to this witch hunt . Not with the reputation of your study in the department."

I stiffened. Ah, yes, my scandalous study about sex. Supposedly scandalous, at least.

"A risk to me is a risk to your progress," he said, firmly. "That's all."

I clenched my fists into leather. "Understood, Professor."

He let out an uneven breath and sagged, eyes falling shut. "Vic?—"

"No." I swallowed on the rock in my throat and tried not to tremble as he shoved a hand through his hair.

"Jesus, Victoria, it's my fucking career!" he cried out.

I haven't done anything , I wanted to say. And also, Then you should've avoided flirting with your students .

He shook and groaned, waving a hand. "I'm sorry. I'm going. I'm going."

I remained still, at the far end of the small room, until the door finally shut behind him. My legs folded, and a rush of relief and anger swept through me, a distant gratitude that there was a chair to fall into, a pang of missing ?—

I cut the emotions off, leaning down to rest my head against cool wood, breathing slowly. I was allowed three minutes, and then I would put this feeling away too.