Page 74 of Lethal Kiss

I press my lips together and turn away. The truth is this: at first, it was about hunting grounds, about being unchallenged. An easy place to snack and learn, to fuck and rest and be happy. But now … now I can’t help but hurt when I see Lacie ache. No, now it’s about justice. About seeing the scantest blip of her happiness return. She hasn’t smiled genuinely since we found Laurel in that hallway, and that eats at me more than anything else I’ve witnessed. Plus, whatever’s happening here, destroying students in the prime of their careers is anathema.

Nudging Dr. Sims’s body with my foot, I pantomime a sigh. “Lacie, Lacie, Lacie. Can’t you imagine a world in which someone might do something for you, just because you asked?”

She blinks at me, still broken on the floor. Her face is a mess of tears and warring emotions, the cracks in her lips coated with dried vættr blood.

We have to leave this place after cleaning up the bar room’s disarray. If we’re found, doubtless we’ll be implicated. The last thing I want is for Lacie to meet her end the same way Therese and Laurel did. Not on my account, especially.

“Come, love. Let’s go.”

She snarls, “Don’t call me that. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

I sniff. “Have it your way. But if you stay here, you’ll be found with Sims’s blood all over you, and no doubt you’ll die, too.”

Her eyes widen. “What?”

I stifle a laugh. “This was a murder, darling. So, unless we deal with the body and get out of Dodge, I’d say we’re prime suspects. And rightly so.” I want you safe.

“Fine.” She struggles to her feet, ignoring my outstretched hand.

I drop it, lips twisting. “But I have to say, I think I might have dealt with our little issue, don’t you? Laurel and Therese’s killer has been annihilated.” I toe the body at my feet. Already, Dr. Sims’s flesh, or what’s left of it, is crinkling and shrinking, exposing his rotten bones. Undead continue to decay, but often, if they feed, they can keep up humanlike pretenses: skin and hair and all that. But once the energy inside them is gone (in me, in it, as it were) they shrivel up like dead spiders.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if there’s only one vættr on campus, we’ve handily dealt with him.”

“You keep saying we. You dealt with him.”

“Yes, fine,” I say, giving her a toothy grin. “I did.”

She groans and steps over his curling body. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” I quip. I can’t help it.

She fixes me with an unsteady stare, her cheeks flaming. Her pretty little mouth moves, but I’ve stunned her. So innocent.

“Anyway,” I say, rolling past her discomfort, “you might like to know that I did in fact extract some information from this disgusting monstrosity that’ll help stop this once and for all.”

“What do you mean? I thought you said you dealt with the problem?”

“Yes, I did. But monsters like vættir need a place to sleep and congregate. It’s not like they can maintain a human form always. Plus, killing them isn’t always enough. They must be laid to peaceful rest after they die again.” I snap my fingers and point at the body between us. “He told me he wanted to take me down to his lair. God, men are always so incredibly dramatic. He couldn’t have simply said bedroom?” I toss my hair. “But conveniently, it’s on campus. Something about a chapel? A crypt?” Satan’s teeth, I’ve not been inside a church since I was alive and young and full of trust in some kind of Christian God. But I suppose there’s a second time for everything.

“Wait … campus? Like, not here?”

Chuckling, I shrug. “Not everything is so convenient. But the point is, whatever that lair is, it’s a perfect place to store his body. He’ll be dust soon enough, but that takes a bit. A week or so. Until then, we need to be sure no one discovers the murder. And with any luck, we can all move on with our lives.”

Lacie gapes at me. “And how do you propose, Marcella, that we get this human-sized creature back to campus unnoticed?”

I give her my toothiest grin. “I’m so glad you asked.”

“This is not what I wanted to be doing!”

Lacie’s breathing hard, her heart speeding audibly inside her chest.

“You asked, and I answered, and then you agreed it was the best way.” I’m at the front of the massive ice chest. Someone, probably Dean Shea’s lackeys, or maybe even Dr. Sims, bought this for the Winter Ball. You do have to love the dramatic irony of hauling a bad actor’s really, extremely dead body through his own hunting grounds in the cooler he bought to celebrate committing even more murder.

It’s great, actually.

Lacie’s dripping sweat; I can smell it. Fuck. There’s not much I wouldn’t do to tongue it off of her, swiping my tongue into the hollow of her collarbone. Swallowing hard, I shove away the image. Maybe another day.