Page 88 of Tempest

Ironic, considering what Clover’s trying to convince me to do.

“Which is why I asked you to hear me out. Again.” Clover scoots to a sit. “I have it on strong authority that all three residents—Tempest, Rio, and sigh, Professor Hunter…”

I snort. If Clover could manifest heart eyes on her face, she’d be doing it right now.

“…will be off the premises in a week. They’re going out of town.”

“Why?” The question comes out before I can stop it. The thought of Tempest leaving the area—leaving me—forms a small pit in my stomach, rough and hole-filled like a stone fruit. Ridiculous, considering I have no right to ask where he’s going or what he’s doing.

Or who he’s meeting.

If it’s another girl, I might vomit.

“Some kind of boys’ trip.” Clover shrugs. “I guess grading papers and generally being on leashes with other professors is too stressful for my brother’s fragile state.” Clover cackles at her own joke. “Honestly, they just probably want to get laid without getting in trouble by sleeping with one of the students.”

I knew it. My stomach sinks to the floor.

“Anyway, it means the cottage will be vacant for a while, and you have to agree that if I’m to attempt it, it’s gotta be there. She was tortured there, killed there, and if she’s haunting the place, she won’t be straying far from where it all went wrong. And even if she doesn’t come and I get nothing—” Clover points at me, shutting down any argument I was about to make—“you have to admit it’ll be a fabulous addition to our thesis. He’ll be so proud.” She ends her speech with a toothy grin.

“Or he’ll kill you for sneaking into his room when he’s not around.”

Clover throws a hand on her chest, feigning innocence. “Who says I’ll be snooping around his bedroom?”

I laugh. “You don’t need to say it for me to read your dirty thoughts.”

Clover huffs in agreement. “You know, you’re more clairvoyant than you let on. You need to come with me.”

“Why can’t you use someone from your study session? I hear you’re acquiring quite the fan group.” I waggle my brows comically.

“Oh, fuck off.” She rolls her eyes.

During one of my quick trips through the library, I spotted Clover at a table with four other guys, Clover poring over her textbooks while the guys drank in her cleavage. She enjoys toying with men and always has, especially when they’re intelligent, witty, and able to keep up with her.

Something tells me these boys won’t.

“They help pass the time during the mandatory equations and statistics I have to do to qualify for a respectable psych degree.” Clover twirls a piece of her hair around her fingers. “Morgan’s class feeds my id. And you need to step out of your bubble. Come on, try it with me one time, like I said. If you hate it, I’ll never ask you again.”

Clover clasps her hands in front of her, her pleas sincere and resounding in my head. I almost agree with her right there but scrutinize her further. There’s no indication she’s attempted to summon Mila. Even if she has, I doubt she’d tell me. And I’m certain she respects me enough not to do it with me around—no matter how often I say I don’t believe.

I don’t want to go back there. I don’t want to do it on Tempest’s turf. And I don’t want to remember any more about what broke me than I already do.

I’m not sure how to explain my worries when all Clover desires is to discover the name of the Anderton daughter.

“Clover…”

“Pleaaaaase?”

Exasperated, I rub my forehead. “Fine. Fine.”

“Yes!” Clover claps.

“But only if you figure out a fail-safe way so we won’t get caught.”

Clover nods eagerly.

“And we search for actual artifacts at the cottage. Things we can actually use to prove our theory of misogyny killing the Andertons.”

“Absolutely.” Clover ends our chat with a resolute nod. Or so I think. “I hear their skulls have been dug up and are on display in a hidden room.”

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