Page 151 of Saint Céline
My body went still. Vincent’s hand remained on my arm.
“Professor Moreau,” Daniel said, and he made the title sound dirty.
I turned my head slowly. Vincent did not look at me. The courtyard tilted.
“You know each other?” I asked.
Neither man answered immediately. That was answer enough. Something cold and clean cut through the panic. I had suspected it. This was Daniel saying Vincent’s name with recognition in his mouth. This was Vincent appearing exactly when fear had finally broken through my ability to perform. This was the cage, the door, the key, all of it placed around me before I had even understood I was being moved.
I pulled my arm from Vincent’s hand. His fingers released me immediately.
“How do you know him?” I asked.
Vincent looked at me then. There was something in his face I had never seen before. Regret, raw and fleeting, before the mask slid back into place.
Daniel laughed softly. “Oh, she didn’t know?”
I turned to him. “Shut up.”
“Careful.” His eyes sharpened.
“No,” I said, and my voice shook now but did not break. “You do not get to tell me to be careful.”
The people nearby were definitely watching now. Wendy still stood near the steps, pale and frozen, one hand over her mouth. I had forgotten she was there. I had forgotten anyone was there.
Vincent’s voice stayed low. “Daniel, our arrangement was only for the phone call. You were not supposed to show up on campus.”
Daniel’s smile faltered for half a second.
“You said you’d make it worth my while.”
“I said I would pay you to stay away,” Vincent replied, and for once his tone carried a thread of genuine irritation, as if even he hated how poorly this had gone. “Not to parade yourself in front of her in the middle of the day.”
I stared at him. Hurt bloomed sharp and hot behind my ribs. He had done this. He had reached into my past and pulled Daniel here like a weapon. The betrayal felt worse because part of me had almost expected it.
Vincent met my eyes. The regret was there again, brief but real.
“I did not intend for this.”
I wanted to believe him. I almost did. But belief in him had become dangerous.
Daniel cleared his throat, impatient with a drama he did not control.
“So about the money—”
Vincent turned to him. The change in his face was subtle. Daniel stopped speaking.
“Leave Blackwater,” Vincent said.
Daniel scoffed, but it came out weaker than he intended.
“You don’t get to order me around, boy.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You think because you’ve got money—”
“I know precisely what money can do,” Vincent said calmly. “That is why you should listen carefully.”
