“Neither am I,” I agree, and Chasm nods, stealing the soot spirit pen so he can tap it against his lips.
“Let’s stay up all night and keep working on this. There’s got to be something here that we’re missing. Between the videos you posted, the key, the list of victims, whatever. We’ve got a lot of information here. We just need to sift through it.” Chas gets up to retrieve both his phone and mine from the bathroom, turning the fan and the shower off as he goes.
As soon as Chas hands mine over … we get an incoming call.
Perfect timing, as usual.
Maxx quickly closes and locks my door, cursing as he flicks the bathroom fan and the shower on yet again—but for the opposite reason this time. We can’t let anyone in the Vanguard household know about these calls, and we can’t let the Slayer know what we’re plotting. What a mess.
I ignore him, answering the call with my heart in my throat. There’s only one thing that matters right now, and that’s Parrish’s well-being.
As soon as I see him on the screen, a small sob escapes me, and I slap my hand over my mouth. He isn’t looking at me, however. Clearly, the camera that’s watching him right now doesn’t include a monitor. He can’t see me.
“Is this a live feed or something that was prerecorded?” I wonder, because it truly could be either. It’s clear that the Slayer—who at this point is almost certainly my bio dad—is an expert hacker. Figures, considering where we’re at. Seattle is a startup and technology hub.
“Don’t know,” Chasm murmurs, his eyes fixated on the screen as he settles in beside me. As soon as Maxx comes back, he climbs right up on the bed and wedges himself between me and the wall. All three of us watch in silence as a man enters the room with Parrish.
His shoulders go tense, but I notice that his chest, at least, is clean and shiny with some more of the salve. His wounds have been tended. He looks so much better than he did on the day I confessed my love for him. There’s relief there, but not a lot. Again, how do I know this is really a live feed?
How do I know if Parrish is still alive?
The man moves further into the room, wearing that same black stag mask on his face.
Parrish turns to face him, his hands clenched tightly by his sides, those gorgeous eyes of his, the color a delectable mix of golds and brown, narrowed in open defiance.
“What do you want?” he asks, his voice rough but so much stronger than it was before.
The man passes over a phone, and Parrish stiffens up even further, taking a step back from the man. He isn’t wearing his pajama pants anymore, but a clean pair of sweats and nothing else.
“Here,” Mr. Volli says, his voice easily recognizable at this point. “This is for you. Don’t bother trying to make any calls with it; I’ve disabled that option.” Since he’s facing away from us, I can’t see his mouth, but it sure sounds like he’s smiling.
The idea of that just infuriates me, and I feel adrenaline coursing through me with no outlet. I’d love nothing more than to kick the crap out of my sixth period teacher, I won’t lie about that.
Parrish accepts the phone from Mr. Volli’s hand with a respectable level of wariness. He side-eyes the man as he looks down at the screen and then frowns heavily. He ends up sitting down on the edge of the bed before tapping play on whatever video it is that’s waiting for him.
It doesn’t appear that there’s any sound to it, and the picture is pretty dark, but when I feel Chas go completely still beside me, an inkling of cold suspicion trickles through me.
No. No, please.
The screen on my phone splits in half, and the video—the one that Parrish is watching—starts to play beneath the feed of him watching it.
Just that little extra bit of mortification that we all needed.
It’s a video of me and Chasm from last night, making love. The images are dark, sure, but there’s just enough light coming in from outside my window that it isn’t hard to fill in the blanks. I’m particularly obvious, what with the dual-colored hair and all. Even in the dark, you can spot the color difference between the left and right side.
Not only is Parrish watching the whole thing, but so is Maxx. He also goes completely stiff and still beside me, and I wish fervently that our bare arms weren’t pressed so tightly together, and that he wasn’t sitting on my bed. On the very same bed from the video.
“I knew it,” Chasm groans, putting his hands over his face. “I fucking knew this was going to happen!”
