by M. D. Archer
I tug at the nylon fabric of my leggings. They were not designed to be worn for this long, I’m sure of it. My finger finds the ripped hole at my right knee and I gently touch the skin underneath. It’s already healed. My knee starts to jiggle under the table. I want, need to stretch, to move. More than that, I want to get out of here. The gray walls and flickering lights of the interview room reflect my mood—depressed with bursts of anxiety. The Campus Crawler has taken his fourth victim and managed to involve me in his crime. Again. Even I would think I was guilty at this point.
With my one phone call, I called Nikolai. There is no way I’m telling my parents that I’m being questioned by the police. Again. Nikolai said he would tell Vincent and get here as soon as physically possible. He also said I shouldn’t accept their offer of a lawyer—the Consillium would do all that. But that was hours ago. Or was it? I’ve lost all track of time. There are no clocks in here. Like Vegas, but without the fun.
“Miss Walker, answer the question.”
“But I already have.”
“I don’t care. Tell me again. Why were you there?”
“For the tenth time, I was on my way to see my friend Nikolai, and I walked past and saw her. I thought she might still be alive, so I took her pulse.” I sound detached, mechanical, but I have to detach myself, otherwise I might totally freak out.
“Just going past a murder scene, again.”
“Yes. To see my friend Nikolai.”
Parsons’s exceptionally good lie-detection skills are beeping a positive reading at him, but I can’t tell him what really happened.
“Why don’t you ask Nikolai? He’s here, isn’t he?” I know he is. I sensed him arrive at the station ages ago. In between Parsons’s questions, I’ve been updating him so he knows what to say to corroborate my story.
“Don’t worry about Nikolai. You have enough to worry about. How did you just happen to be at another murder site?”
“Did it ever occur to you that I’m just unlucky,” I say, frustration getting the better of me. Parsons narrows his eyes in warning, but after a quick scan of his thoughts, I know he has wondered the same thing. Apart from going to the same school, there is nothing that links me with the victims except the locations of the bodies. The birthday one gets him, though. The locations alone would be okay, but the first victim was killed on my birthday.
I try to make my face soften and relax. I know he’s desperate, and I don’t blame him, but how can I make him believe that I didn’t do this.
“What were you doing there?” he repeats.
“I told you. I was going to see my friend Nikolai, but he wasn’t at this one club, so I was going to try another. If you talk to him, he’ll tell you, or Ruby… I saw her earlier tonight too. Or you could talk to the bouncer at Red Door. I spoke to him. He’ll tell you I was there.” I’ve already given Parsons everyone’s names and addresses. The Consillium will not be happy about that, but I don’t have many options.
“Dammit!” He slams his hand down on the table, startling me. He grits his teeth, then takes a controlled breath through his nose. It’s frustration more than anger, I can tell, but I’m still reacting to the energy. A spark fires up in my stomach.
But I can’t get angry.
“Don’t you get it? Someone is murdering young women just like you!”
Not just like me.
“We need to find this psycho. And you’re not telling me everything you know.”
He’s right, on all counts, and I want to help him, but I can’t.
“Tell me why you’re connected to all four of the murders. Why!”
“I don’t know. It’s just a coincidence. What do you want me to say?”
He opens one of the files in front of him and takes out a photo. Oh good, this again. Crime scene photographs of the other murders. Grainy, taken from several angles. Hideous graphical representations of evil.
“Jennifer Bright.” He pushes a photo forward. “Carly King.” Another photo. “And Annalise Chan.”
I slump in my chair.
“And now Rosemary Johnson.”
They’ve identified her. Hearing her name makes it worse.
“Rosemary Johnson. Medical student, twenty-five years old. Do you know her?”
I shake my head. “No. I swear, I have never met her, or even heard of her before.”
He asks me to repeat where I was, what I was doing for each of the other three murders. I let his questions wash over me, answering without effort because I’m not lying, and because all I can think is what if I had told Vincent about the accent, or even the Crawler’s connection to me. They might have been able to find out who this guy was before he killed Rosemary.
Is Rosemary’s death partly my fault?
Finally, he lets me go. There is no direct material evidence, and I have at least an approximation of an alibi. Once they get the Coroner’s report and a more concrete time of death, Parsons assures me, they will have more questions. Even though he’s releasing me, I’m still under suspicion of murder, and under no circumstances am I to go anywhere.
I’m their number one suspect.
It makes me shiver with disbelief. How can this be happening?
NIKOLAI IS WAITING for me in the lobby. The clock on the station wall tells me I’ve been in there for nearly thirty hours.
I update him silently as we trudge through the station in a dissociative bubble. Police officers beetle around, phones ring, coffee is brewed, and people converse. None of it matters.
Nikolai pushes open the double doors leading to the street and a blast of bright morning light hits my face, hurting my eyes. I burrow my head into his shoulder and let him walk us down the station steps. I feel like I’m covered in a layer of grime, and I probably don’t smell so fresh, but I don’t care. When we get to the car, Nikolai turns to face me, his expression serious.
“I’m sorry to do this to you, Tamzin, but I can’t take you home just yet. The Consillium have summoned you.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“They can make this go away.”
“They can?” The first—only—ray of hope.
Nikolai nods. “Yes. But you need to go see them.”
I take a breath. “Now?”
“Now.”
Chapter 24
I thought we would go to The Public House, but Nikolai drives uptown.
We pull into a street off Broadway near the lake. Nikolai leads me to the front of a beautiful low-rise heritage building and holds open the double glass doors. We take an elevator to the top floor—the penthouse. Immediately out of the elevator is a small lobby-type area with an internal staircase leading up to another level. Nikolai throws his keys down on a table underneath a mirror and then leads me through double doors into an open-plan area that has several desks spaced around the room.
“Consillium office,” Nikolai says, but there is something about the way he moves through this space, with familiarity and ease, that suggests more than just a workplace.
“Do you live here?”
Nikolai nods. “Upstairs.”
There are several doors leading off the main area, but only one is open, the soft glow of light inviting us inside. Vincent is standing like a reluctant sidekick next to a man seated behind a desk. The man, clearly related to Nikolai, is regarding me with affected disinterest.
“Is this your uncle? Rica?” I ask Nikolai. He nods.
The man’s almond-shaped eyes are light brown and impassive. His hair is dark, inky, an unnatural color. Does he dye his hair?
“The famous Tamzin,” Rica says, meeting my eyes with an approximation of a smile. “I am Rica Armandi, Liaison to the London Consillium.”
“Hello,” I reply, following his lead. Just as I’m wondering why we are speaking telepathically, I feel a little probe. I look at him in surprise, instinctively blocking it. He holds my gaze and I feel a stronger push. Again, I block it. Is he testing me?
“Well,” he says out loud, his face giving away
nothing. “It’s been an eventful few days.” He crosses his legs and sits back in the chair, looking comfortable. He doesn’t offer me a seat. A wave of tiredness courses through me and my legs buckle a little. Nikolai’s warm arm circles my waist as he reaches out with his other hand to pull out a chair.
“Here,” he says.
“Thanks.” I smile, looking up at him just in time to catch the look he throws his uncle. Rica is unaware, his eyes fixed on me.
“You are aware, of course, the number one concern of the Consillium is protecting the existence of Lucans.” His British accent is smooth, his voice conveying wealth and privilege.
“I couldn’t help it,” I say. “He lured me there.”
“And your only course of action was to blindly follow? You couldn’t tell Nikolai or Vincent?”
“There was no time… and I thought I might be able to save her.”
“But you didn’t, did you? All you did was place yourself at the scene of another murder.”
He’s making it seem like this was what I had intended all along. This is almost as bad as the interrogation with Parsons. Possibly worse. I glance over at Nikolai. I thought the Consillium was here to help me.
“Don’t worry. This is just his style.”
Rica regards me as he sits in his elegant surroundings. He’s had the luxury of a recent shower and a hearty breakfast, the remnants of which are perched on the edge of the desk, presumably waiting for some minion to clear away. Meanwhile, I spent the night sweating it out in a police interrogation room, and I haven’t eaten for more than twenty-four hours. What took so long to get me released, anyway?
“I understand there have been some other incidents….” Rica raises his eyebrows instead of finishing his sentence, as if I’m going to jump in and fill in the blanks. “And there is a further issue.” Rica stands and moves around the desk. Vincent stays where he is, expressionless, but with warmth in his eyes. “You seem to be a rather strong Rogue magnet.”
How can he blame me for the actions of other Lucans? It’s not my fault they like coming after me. I’m glad I didn’t tell anyone about that Rogue attack at the mall. Rica would have added it to my list of crimes.
“These Rogues, they are not bound by the same rules as us, and they keep risking exposure because of you.”
“But I’m not doing anything,” I protest.
“We can appreciate that this is not intentional,” Rica continues. “However, Rogues aside, you have now been connected to all of the Crawler murders, have you not?”
I look down and nod. I had to tell Nikolai why they were so suspicious of me, and I guess he had to tell Rica.
“It is clear that the Crawler feels some sort of connection to you; just as it is clear that you are not ready for the magnitude of your power and the responsibilities that come with it. You need help.”
Help? How can they help?
“There is a solution, to reduce your volatility, which will also likely interfere with your connection to the Crawler.” Rica waves his hand toward a wooden box sitting on the desk. It is made of some sort of dark, heavy-looking wood. A symbol, two overlapping Cs, is carved into the top—the symbol that both Vincent and Nikolai have tattooed on their arms.
“The Code of the Consillium,” Rica says, running his fingers over the symbol. He opens the box with a flourish and pushes it over to me. Inside I can see a silver amulet necklace with the same symbol on the front. He meets my eyes.
“But we can’t wear silver,” I say.
“Exactly,” he says.
And I get it. If I wear a silver amulet, it will weaken me.
“It’s a reminder,” he says.
“It’s a punishment.”
“If you choose to think of it like that, I can’t stop you. But we see it differently. It’s designed to help new Lucans remember the Consillium Code, until they are able to control themselves. It can be difficult for some at first.” He pauses, a small smile creeping across his face. “Your great grandmother had to wear it for a time, when she first Became.”
“Grandma Tessa? She did?”
Rica nods, sitting on the edge of the desk and clasping his hands. “Tamzin, I would hope that you would agree to wear this… for the sake of the greater good. To protect us, to protect the Lucan community. But if you need another incentive, I can offer you this. If you show your commitment to the Consillium, to the Code, to protecting our existence, then we can deal with this legal situation for you.”
“But aren’t you supposed to do that anyway? Help us when we need help?” I’m close to tears, and it’s making me furious.
“Yes, but we need to feel confident that you are, in fact, one of us, part of the Consillium community.”
“But I took the oath.”
“Indeed. However, your actions have cast doubt about this.”
For this I don’t have a comeback, because he’s right.
He stands up again and looms over me for a moment. “It is, of course, your choice. You can have some time to think about it.” He sweeps out of the room. Vincent follows, pausing briefly to squeeze my shoulder.
“Tamzin.” Nikolai sits down in the chair next to me and takes my hand in his. “I know it seems a bit archaic, but it’s for everyone’s good.” He lifts his other hand and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. It’s an unbelievably intimate gesture, and it takes my breath away.
“It would only be temporary.”
I look around the room and see for the first time that the CC symbol is everywhere. It’s like a visual confirmation of the immensity and power of the Consillium. Sure, Rica is a bit of a douche, but the Consillium offers security, and to be part of it is to be part of something solid, important. And they can make my legal problems go away. I’m innocent, but can I trust that this is the judgement I will receive?
“Tamzin?” Nikolai’s eyes question me.
Part of me wants to just say yes, whatever it takes to get me out of this mess, but the other part of me can feel the poison that the amulet represents.
“Can I think about it?”
Chapter 25
Mom’s car is parked at an angry angle in the driveway. I don’t have any evidence of how mad she is—my phone is sitting upstairs in my room, probably dead—but I’m pretty sure that there are many, increasingly furious, messages asking where I am.
“Are you going to tell her about the Crawler?” Nikolai asks, surveying the exterior of the house like it might tell us what we’re about to walk into.
I gulp, then shake my head. “Not if I can help it. I’m over eighteen, so the police technically don’t need to involve my parents.”
If I have my way, Mom and Dad will never, ever find out about my night in jail.
“Does she know how long you’ve been gone?”
“It depends on whether or not they saw that I wasn’t there first thing. If they did, they know I snuck out. Getting up early is not something I do very often.”
“We can say that we’ve been cramming for an exam, or something, and you thought you had texted, but your phone died?” Nikolai offers.
“I snuck out to study?” I scoff.
Nikolai shrugs. “Do you want me to come in with you? Parents generally like me, you know,” he adds.
“I’m sure they do, but she’s going to wonder about Chris. He was like the parent-whisperer,” I say, omitting to add that Nikolai might be well-mannered but he still has a Lucan bad-boy vibe, which Mom will definitely notice.
“But yeah, let’s do this. Mom might not go completely ballistic with you there.”
I ease open the kitchen door.
“Oh, Tamzin, thank God! Where have you been? What have you been doing? Your father is out looking for you right now. With the Crawler, we…. I was….” Mom can’t control the volume or the tone of her voice. It would be comical, except it isn’t funny, at all.
“I was…” What do I say? How do I explain?
“You’re okay? You’re not hurt?” She glances at Nikolai.
“No, I’m fine, Mom, honestly.” My reassuring smile fades as Mom’s face resets itself. Worry and relief turn into anger. Thunderous rage.
“Then where the hell have you been?”
“Umm.”
“I know you aren’t with Chris anymore, Tamzin, and I know you’ve been lying about going to college. I found out quite a lot of interesting information over the last twenty-four hours. I know that you’ve all but dropped out of your courses and Piper hasn’t seen you in weeks. Where have you been? What have you been doing? And who is this?” she finally acknowledges Nikolai.
“Hello, uh, ma’am.”
I shoot a look at Nikolai. Not a good start.
“My name is Nikolai.”
“Who is he?” Mom directs the question at me.
“He’s a friend.”
“Why did you break up with Chris?”
“That is none of your business.”
“Tamzin, what is going on with you? You break up with Chris, and now you’re hanging out with him, whoever he is, and, Tamzin, you have changed.” She waves her hand over me. “What have you been doing instead of going to class? Have you been with him? Is it…” She falters, and a weird expression crosses her face. She shakes her head, as if dismissing a thought, then takes another breath. “It’s drugs, isn’t it? You were bluffing before. You are on drugs.” Mom nods to herself. “You were bored, directionless, so this is what you do? Find some loser to shoot up with?”
I roll my eyes; I can’t help it. Shooting up heroin? She can be such a drama queen.
“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Tamzin. You tell me what is going on this instant, or I’m calling the police.”
“The police, Mom. God.” I hope she doesn’t realize how effective a threat this is.
“There is a murderer out there. Targeting young women on campus,” Mom says with clenched teeth.
“But I’m not on campus anymore. It’s safer that way.” I regret my flippant tone instantly.
Mom’s eyes narrow. “What is wrong with you? Three young women have been killed. Right on our doorstep.”
The fourth victim obviously hasn’t made the news yet.
