14
Winter
Alex curled into the window seat at the Hutch, and Dawes brought her a cup of hot chocolate. She’d placed a gourmet marshmallow at the top, the kind that looked like a rough-hewn stone yanked from a quarry.
“You went to the underworld,” said Dawes. “You earned a treat.”
“Not all the way to the underworld.”
“Then give the marshmallow back.” She said it shyly, as if afraid to make the joke, and
Alex cradled her cup close to show she was playing along. She liked this Dawes, and she
thought maybe this Dawes liked her.
“What was it like?”
Alex looked out over the rooftops in the late-morning light. From here she could see the gray gables of Wolf’s Head and part of the ivy-tangle backyard, a blue recycling bin
leaning tipsily against the wall. It looked so ordinary.
She set aside her bacon and egg sandwich. Usually she could eat at least two herself,
but she could still feel the water pulling her under and it was messing with her appetite.
Had she really crossed over? How much was illusion and how much was real? She
described what she could and what the Bridegroom required.
When she finished, Dawes said, “You can’t go to Tara Hutchins’s apartment.”
Alex picked at her sandwich. “I just told you about communing with the dead in a river
full of golden-eyed crocodiles and that’s what you have to say?”
But apparently a taste of adventure had been enough for Dawes. “If Dean Sandow finds
out what you did to Salome to get us into the temple—”
“Salome may bitch to her friends, but she’s not going to bring in the big guns. Offering
us access to the temple, stealing from Scroll and Key, it’s all too messy.”
“And if she does?”
“I’ll deny it.”
“And you want me to deny it too?”
“I want you to think about what’s important.”
“And are you going to threaten me?” Dawes kept her eyes on her cup of cocoa, her spoon circling around and around.
“No, Dawes. Are you afraid I will?”
The spoon stopped. Dawes looked up. Her eyes were a warm, dark coffee, and sunlight
caught in her messy bun making the red in her hair glow brighter. “I don’t think I am,” she
said, as if she was surprised by the fact herself. “Your reaction was … extreme. But Salome was in the wrong.” Dawes with the ruthless streak. “Still, if the dean learns you made a deal with a Gray …”
“He won’t.”
“But if he does—”
“You’re afraid he’ll call you out for helping me. Don’t worry. I won’t snitch. But Salome saw you. You might have to keep her quiet too.”
Dawes’s eyes widened and then she realized Alex was kidding. “Oh. Right. It’s just …
I really need this job.”
“I get it,” said Alex. Maybe better than anyone else who had ever sat beneath this roof.
“But I need something that belonged to Tara. I’m going to her apartment.”
“Do you even know where she lived?”
“No,” Alex admitted.
“If Detective Turner figures out—”
“What’s Turner going to find out? That I went halfway to the underworld to talk to a
ghost? I’m pretty sure that doesn’t count as witness tampering.”
“But going to Tara’s apartment, going through her stuff—that’s breaking and entering.
It’s interfering with an active police investigation. You could be arrested.”
“Only if I get caught.”
Dawes gave a decisive shake of her head. “You’re crossing a line. And I can’t follow if
you’re going to put both of us and Lethe at risk. Detective Turner doesn’t want you involved and he’ll do whatever he has to do to protect his case.”
“Good point,” Alex said, considering. So maybe instead of going around Turner, she should just go through him.
Alex wanted to hide at the Hutch and let Dawes make her cups of cocoa. She wouldn’t
have minded a little mothering. But she needed to go back to Old Campus, to renew her
grasp on the ordinary world before the things that really mattered slipped away.