Page 21 of What Happened on Roslyn Street? (Strode University #1)

Chapter Fourteen

“ A re you sure you want to bring him to our spot?” Margaux’s words are clipped short.

Nothing in my life will ever be ordinary now that I found Strode, but things between Margaux and I finally feel like they are—or at least on the way to a new normal.

As irritated as she is with me, I can’t remember the last time we were this close.

We walk arm-in-arm, heading to our favorite café.

A third party is joining us now, and it’s not the same as the one before…

It's Caldwell.

After weeks of thinking he was the one to kill my friend, I’ve decided I have to trust him. If he’s what he says he is, he’s too powerful to push away. I spent too long chasing down the wrong person, and now we may be able to finally find a real lead.

“He’s going to help us,” I say, not for the first time.

“One day ago, he was a murderer,” Margaux says. “Now, because he claims he’s not, you’re inviting him to breakfast. I feel like I missed a million steps, and you walked me right into hell. ”

“You told me to kiss him! I thought this was a nice, happy medium.”

“You’re going to kiss him later.” She holds her head higher. “I can tell. You’re obvious. I’ve already lost you—to a man named Caldwell. ”

“I’m only obvious to you.” I shake my head, doing away with thoughts of kissing Caldwell—and everything that could come after. “The point is, you asked me to find proof of him being the murderer. I didn’t find any, and if there’s no proof…”

“Right. Then it can’t be him?” She barks out a laugh. “You know what, Tobey? I’ll be the judge of that.”

“You’ve spent days trying to convince me it isn’t him!”

Of course, now that I’ve changed my mind, she has as well. I’m fully expecting Margaux to judge both Caldwell and the situation. It’s who she is, and it’s helpful… as I can no longer do the judging.

Margaux is right about some things. I find myself hoping he’s not the killer and unsure what to do with myself if he is. I won’t let my thoughts—or feelings—go further than that. I feel bad for him, and I like him. That’s all it is.

But we step into the café, and as soon as I spot him, butterflies take flight in my stomach. My heart races for reasons that have little to do with fear.

I never wanted to be one of those losers obsessing over a killer. He can’t be the killer.

“See,” Margaux whispers, leaning in close. “You’re looking at him like he hung the stars. All he did was maybe not kill someone. That’s not exactly an act of kindness.”

“Margaux…”

“Stop looking at him like that! Are you sure you haven’t kissed already?”

“Yes,” I breathe. “I’m sure.” I shake off the feeling, plastering on a normal smile as I join Caldwell at the table.

“I’ll get our drinks,” Margaux says, not bothering with a greeting.

I grimace at Caldwell. “I’m going to apologize for her in advance.”

“Don’t.” He shrugs. “I assume she thinks I’m a murderer as well?”

“Well… Margaux is very protective.” I pause. “And as she constantly points out, I’m a gossip. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. You thought you were dating a killer, and you had a friend to back you up. It’s strangely thoughtful of you, considering the danger you’re constantly putting yourself in.”

“Thank you… I think.”

“This is going to be a mess to clear up.”

“Margaux will come around.”

“Your friends already hating me doesn’t bode well for our relationship.”

Our relationship. I jump at the word, a quizzical expression briefly flashing across my features.

Our relationship has always been a farce—for both of us.

He was only pursuing me because his vision told him to.

But now, he talks about us like we’re real, and—why do his eyes twinkle when he looks at me?

“Just the singular friend,” I amend, rather than correcting our relationship status. “You only have to worry about Margaux. I only have one friend.”

“You had two.”

I jump, glancing around before my eyes settle on him. “What do you…?”

“Poppy,” he says carefully. “The one you’re avenging. Right?”

I shudder, intrigued by his abilities. “I mean… yeah. Did you…?” I tap the spot between my eyes, unsure how he knows about Poppy .

I haven’t told him anything, and after weeks of his mystery, he seems ready to lay it all out.

“I had a vision?—”

I raise a hand to stop him. “You should wait until Margaux is here. She’ll want to hear this.”

“Please, don’t pretend as if you know what I want to hear.” Margaux slides into a seat, setting a coffee in front of me. She lets out a long, dramatic sigh.

I reach for the hot drink, desperate for something to keep my hands busy. “You will want to hear about this. Caldwell has a vision to share.”

“Right. Tobey said you have the gift of sight?” Margaux watches him over the rim of her mug. “Oracles are rare.”

“I got it from my mother,” he says gravely. “The intuition came first—it was a feeling I had to go to Strode to investigate. I didn’t know what, but… the vision was the odd part. I went to Strode, pretending to enroll, and on the way back to my apartment, I nearly fainted in the streets.”

“And that was when you had the vision?” she asks.

He nods. “It was Tobey, your friend, and you. You were together in one moment, laughing and teasing each other. In the next, your friend was… well, she was gone. It happened on Roslyn Street.”

I freeze. “What?”

Roslyn Street. That’s where they found Poppy’s body.

I’ve spent months obsessing over Roslyn Street, desperate to know what happened… and now Caldwell is here. He’s with us, and he might have more information. I lean in.

“In the vision, the three of you were on Roslyn Street. I remember the sign,” he says. “It was the clearest part of the dream… and then you, Tobey. You were sc reaming her name.”

The only sound that passes between us is the sound of Margaux setting her mug down.

“You really saw us in this vision?” she asks. “When was this?”

“One month ago,” he says.

“After her death.” I frown thoughtfully. “Your gift would be more helpful if you had visions before the fact.”

His lips twitch into a slight smile. “I’m working on that. My mother had the gift of sight, too, and after she died, my sight became stronger. Clearer. That was only a few months ago.”

“I won’t pretend to understand the gifts of witches,” Margaux says, “and I won’t pretend to trust you.”

“I am not asking for your trust,” he says.

“But,” Margaux continues, “if your sight is true, I think it will be helpful. I can see why Tobey has decided to keep you around.”

I smile weakly. “Thanks, Margaux.”

“Don’t thank me yet. There’s more good news.

” She leans in, flashing a dangerous, fanged smile.

“Witches are easier to kill than vampires. If you step one toe out of line, if you harm a hair on Tobey’s head…

I’ll give a first-hand demonstration of how easy your kind is to kill. Do we have an understanding?”

“You don’t have to worry.” Caldwell doesn’t flinch. He leans in to meet her stare. “I’m not the killer, and I’m as interested in finding them as you are. We can be allies.”

“Fine.” Margaux leans back, crossing her arms. Her attention shifts to me. “Is that fine with you?”

I nod, my fingers twisting together on the tabletop. “As long as we find them, I don’t care what we do or who we have to work with. I’m doing this for Poppy.”

We agree, and even if I don’t know what will happen next… I have one more ally .

Hopefully.

We have bigger things to worry about, but after breakfast, Margaux insists we go to class.

She has an important day, or so she claims, running off to the theater before we can stop her.

This leaves me alone with Caldwell—something that would have terrified me before now has an entirely different impact.

Our fingers are linked as Caldwell walks me back to class, and though I have no clue what we are, it feels like we’re continuing something we never got an opportunity to start.

For once, being close to him fills me with comfort and relief rather than dread.

The stroking of his thumb against my knuckles doesn’t send waves of electricity through my body. It’s become a familiar, calming touch.

This is how it could have been all along if I hadn’t jumped to conclusions. Everything makes sense now. Him knowing my favorite books, him staring at me so intently on the first day, and now… we’re here.

“That went better than I expected,” Caldwell says, his voice low enough that only I can hear. “Margaux doesn’t seem to hate me.”

“You’ll know if she hates you,” I say. “But she doesn’t seem to like you either, so… keep your guard up.” There’s a weight off my chest, one that allows me to laugh at my joke.

“Noted.”

“I mean it. I don’t know what Margaux is capable of, so I would take those threats seriously.”

I want to believe Margaux couldn’t harm anyone, but how true can it be? Losing Poppy changed all of us. Something tells me Margaux will do what she must to keep her last friend safe—and that’s me.

I would do the same for her, no matter how rocky our friendship is.

He says, “Don’t worry. I have no intentions of letting my guard down around anyone at this school.”

“Except me?”

He nods. “You are the exception. My vision led me to you, after all.”

“Margaux was in the vision, too, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, but Margaux has fangs,” he says. “And before you go on about the werecat thing, I know it’s a ruse. I’ve known all along.”

“Of course, you did.” I roll my eyes. “It was your vision, right?”

“No. It’s that you are transparent. You don’t look or act like you belong.”

My stomach sinks. “No one else seems to notice.”

Except for Professor Cruz. He had his reasons to doubt me.

“They don’t pay attention,” he says. “That’s why we’re in this situation.”