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 compelling him. Compulsion is complicated.”
“What about the gluma that came after me?” Alex asked.
“I don’t know,” said Sandow. “But I suspect whoever sent that… monster for Darlington sent the gluma after you as well. They didn’t want Lethe investigating.”
“Who?” demanded Alex. “Colin? Kate? How did they get their hands on a gluma?” Had they deliberately used a monster that would cast suspicion on Book and Snake?
You asked me to tell you what you were getting into. Now you know. That was what Darlington had said after he’d unleashed the jackals on her. But had he known? Had he understood that his own intelligence, his love of Lethe and its mission, would paint a target on his back?
“We’ll find out,” Sandow said. “I promise you that, Alex. I won’t rest until it’s done. Colin Khatri has been questioned. It’s clear he and Tara were experimenting heavily together. With portal magic, money spells, very dangerous stuff. It’s not apparent who was the instigator, but Tara wanted to go deeper and she wouldn’t let Colin put on the brakes, not if he and the society wanted more of the… assistance she was providing.”
Because Tara had gotten a taste of something more. She’d glimpsed true power and she knew it was her one chance to take it.
“She was essentially extorting him,” said Sandow. “All of it a disgrace—and all of it happening right beneath my nose.” He slumped in his wheelchair. He looked old and gray. “You were in danger and I didn’t protect you. You were keeping the spirit of Lethe alive, and I was so focused on Darlington’s disappearance, on trying to make it seem as if all was well, on maintaining an illusion for the alumni. It was… It is shameful. Your tenacity is a credit to Lethe, and both Turner and I will say so in our reports to the board.”
“And what does she get for her trouble?” asked Dawes, arms crossed. “You were so eager to wash your hands of Tara’s murder, Alex almost died twice.”
“Three times,” noted Alex.
“Three times. She should get something for it.”
Alex’s brows rose. Since when was Dawes part hustler?
But Sandow just nodded. This was the world of quid pro quo.
See, Darlington? Alex thought. Even I know a little Latin.
Turner rose. “Whatever bullshit you all come up with, I don’t want to hear it. You can dress this up in talk, but Blake Keely, Colin Khatri, Kate Masters—they’re rich kids getting wasted and wrapping a sports car they have no business driving around a tree.” He gave Alex’s shoulder a gentle squeeze on his way out. “I’m glad no one ran you over. Try not to get your ass kicked for a week or two.”
“Try not to buy any new suits.”
“I make no promises.”
Alex watched him saunter away. She wanted to say something to call him back, to make him stay. Good-guy Turner with his shiny badge. Sandow was looking at his clasped hands as if he were concentrating on a particularly difficult magic trick. Maybe he’d unfold his palms and release a dove.
“I know this semester has been a struggle,” he said at last. “It’s possible I could help you with that.”
Alex forgot Turner and the pain smoldering in her side. “How?”
He cleared his throat. “I could, possibly, make sure you pass your classes. I don’t think it would be wise to go too far, but—”
“A 3.5 GPA should do it,” said Dawes.
Alex knew she should say no, that she wanted to earn her way. It was what Darlington would do, what Dawes would do, probably what Mercy and Lauren would do. But Tara would say yes. Opportunity was opportunity. Alex could be honest next year. Still… Sandow had agreed too fast. What exactly were the terms of this bargain?
“What’s going to happen to Scroll and Key?” Alex asked. “To Manuscript? To all of these assholes?”
“There will be disciplinary action. Heavy fines.”
“Fines? They tried to kill me. They as good as killed Darlington.”
“The trust of each House of the Veil has been contacted, and a meeting will be held in Manhattan.”
A meeting. With a seating chart. Maybe some minted slush punch. Alex felt a wild anger building inside her. “Tell me someone is going to pay for what they did.”
“We’ll see,” said Sandow.
“We’ll see?”
Sandow raised his head. His eyes were fierce, lit by the same fire she’d seen when he’d faced down a hellbeast on new-moon night. “You think I don’t know what they’re getting away with? You think I don’t care? Merity being passed around like candy. Portal magic revealed to outsiders and used by one of them to attack a delegate of Lethe. Manuscript and Scroll and Key should both be stripped of their tombs.”
“But Lethe won’t act?” asked Dawes.
“And destroy two more of the Ancient Eight?” His voice was bitter. “We are kept alive by their funding, and this isn’t Aurelian or St. Elmo we’re talking about. These are two of the strongest Houses. Their alumni are incredibly powerful and they’re already lobbying for clemency.”
“I don’t get it,” said Alex. She should just let it all go, take her boosted GPA and be glad she was alive. But she couldn’t. “You had to know something like this would happen eventually. Turner’s right. You soup up the car. You hand them the keys. Why leave magic, all this power, to a bunch of kids?”
Sandow sagged further in his chair, the fire leaving him. “Youth is a wasting resource, Alex. The alumni need the societies; an entire network of contacts and cohorts depends on the magic they can access. This is why the alumni return here, why the trusts maintain the tombs.”
“So no one pays,” said Alex. Except Tara. Except Darlington. Except her and Dawes. Maybe they were knights—valuable enough, but easy to sacrifice in the long game.
Dawes turned cold eyes on the dean. “You should go.”
Sandow looked defeated as he wheeled himself into the hall. “You were right,” Dawes said when they were alone. “They’re all going to get away with it.”
A brisk knock sounded at the open door.
“Ms. Dawes, your sister is here to pick you up,” said Jean. She pointed at Alex. “And you should be resting in your own bed, little miss. I’m coming back with a wheelchair.”
“You’re leaving?” Alex hadn’t meant to sound so accusatory. Dawes had saved her life. She could go wherever she wanted. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”
“She lives in Westport,” Dawes said. “I just need…” She shook her head. “This was supposed to be a research job. It’s too much.”
“It really is,” said Alex. If her mom’s place had been a few train stops away instead of a few thousand miles, she wouldn’t have minded curling up on the couch there for a week or twelve.
Alex climbed out of the bed. “Be safe, Dawes. Watch lots of bad TV and just be normal for a while.”
“Stay,” Dawes protested. “I want you to meet her.”
Alex made herself smile. “Come see me before you go. I need to get some of that sweet, sweet Percocet before I collapse, and I don’t want to wait for good nurse Jean to wheel me away.”