pulled it all apart. The drugs. The lies. There would be some kind of reckoning among the
Houses of the Veil.
Alex must have fallen asleep, because she woke with a start when Turner wheeled
Dean Sandow into the room. She sat up too quickly and hissed in a breath at the pain, then
nudged Dawes, who drowsily came awake.
Sandow looked exhausted, his skin sagging and almost powdery. His leg was extended
before him in a cast. Alex remembered that white spike of bone jutting from his thigh and
wondered if she should apologize for calling the jackals. But if she hadn’t, she would be dead, and Dean Sandow would be a murderer—and more than likely dead too. How had
they even explained these wounds to the police? To the doctors who had sewn them up?
Maybe they hadn’t had to explain. Maybe power like Lethe, power like the societies, like
the dean of Yale University, made explanations unnecessary.
Detective Abel Turner looked fresh as ever, dressed in a charcoal suit and a mauve tie.
He perched at the end of the big recliner tucked into the corner for overnight guests.
Alex realized this was the first time they’d all been in a room together—Oculus, Dante,
Centurion, and the dean. Only Virgil was missing. Maybe if they’d started the year this way, things would have gone differently.
“I suppose I should begin with an apology,” said Sandow. His voice sounded ragged.
“It’s been a hard year. A hard couple of years. I wanted to keep that poor girl’s death away
from Lethe. If I had known about the Merity, the experiments with Scroll and Key … but I
didn’t want to ask, did I?”
Dawes shifted in the narrow bed. “What’s going to happen?”
“The murder charge against Lance Gressang will be vacated,” said Turner. “But he’ll still face charges on dealing and possession. He and Tara were dealing psychotropics to Scroll and Key, possibly to Manuscript, and we had a look at Blake Keely’s phone.
Someone got in there to delete a bunch of big files recently.” Alex kept her face blank.
“But the voicemails were enlightening. Tara found out what Merity could do and what Blake was using it for. She was threatening to tell the police. I don’t know if Blake was
more afraid of blackmail or exposure, but there was no love lost between them.”
“So he killed her?”
“We’ve been interviewing a lot of Blake Keely’s friends and associates,” Turner went
on. “He was not someone who liked women. He may have been escalating in some way or
using drugs himself. His behavior lately has been truly bizarre.”
Bizarre. Like eating the contents of a clogged toilet. But the rest made a kind of sense.
Blake had barely seen the girls he used as human. If Tara had challenged his control, maybe the leap to murder hadn’t been a big one. When Alex had relived Tara’s death, it
had been Lance’s face she saw looming above her, and she’d assumed it was a glamour disguising the real murderer. But what if Blake had somehow dosed Tara with Merity and
simply commanded her to see Lance’s face? Was the drug that powerful?
Something else was bothering her. “Blake told me he didn’t kill Tara.”
“He was clearly out of his right mind when he attacked you—” said Sandow.
“No,” said Alex. “When …” When she’d been seeking revenge for what he’d done to
Mercy. “A few days ago. He was under compulsion.”
Turner’s eyes narrowed. “You were questioning him?”
“I had an opportunity and I took it.”
“Is this the time to critique Alex’s methods?” Dawes asked quietly.
Alex bumped Dawes’s shoulder with her own. “Excellent point. Neither of you would
have looked past Lance if I hadn’t been a tack in your ass.”
Turner laughed. “Still coming out swinging, Stern.”
Sandow gave a pained sigh. “Indeed.”
“But she’s not wrong,” said Dawes.
“No,” said Sandow, chastened. “She’s not wrong. But Blake may have believed in his
own innocence. He may not have remembered committing the crime if he was under the
influence when it happened. Or he may have been trying to please whoever was