Page 13 of Dance With Death

Leif shovels the remainder of his sandwich into his mouth. “I hope Marci is the reason—or is at least involved.” I grimace as he talks through the mouthful. “Rather than Viktor.”

I chew on my lip and don’t respond. Viktor’s taunting the other night constantly echoes in my mind. He knew who Holly was. What she looked like. What better way to halt my investigations into him than to misdirect me into searching for a missing friend? One who’s under threat from a powerful necromancer.

“Check if Holly posted anything more on Instagram,” I say to Rowan.

“Um. I meant to talk to you about that.”

“What?” I ask sharply.

“I checked Instagram before, and Holly posted a photo.” He swipes his phone and I stare.

The photo uploaded to Instagram depicts a bunch of violets in a vase, with no person in the shot.

Thank you for the flowers they cheered me up. Hope to be back soon! #violets #thornwoodacademy #sickofbeingsick #wishyouwerehere

“Can you look at Holly’s account and deduce who posted this?” I say curtly.

“Already did. Checked her laptop before lunch. I’m locked out of Holly’s Instagram now,” Rowan says. “Every time I log in, I’m kicked out again as if someone is constantly changing the password.”

“What does all this mean?” I ask stiffly.

“I’ve explained Instagram and hashtags before, Violet.”

“Who uploaded the picture? Holly?”

“Unlikely.”

“Send her a message,” I say.

“I’m blocked.”

“What?”

“I can’t send messages to Holly’s account either. You send her a message.”

“I don’t have an account.” He arches a brow, and horror pours into me. “You want me to create one? And do what? Share photos of us holding hands?”

“Or our graveyard visits?” suggests Grayson, and Leif smirks.

Rowan slices the pair a look. “Use the account to send Holly a message.”

“And what do I post on my account?”

“Anything you want. Nothing.”

“I’ll go with the latter.”

There’s something in Leif’s grin when Rowan installs the app on my phone that irks me. I don’t miss the irony here—when Holly nagged me to create an account, I refused, and now I’m doing so to communicate with a possibly fake Holly.

Definitely fake. There’s no possibility that she’d stay away this long and lie to everybody. Even if Holly didn’t want to communicate with me, she would at least contact a friend at the academy.

“What name should I use for your Instagram profile?” Rowan asks me.

“Not sweet Violet,” I warn him.

He clamps his lips together and nods, but I swear he’s fighting amusement.

“Profile picture?” asks Rowan, and my disgust grows. “Fine. Just you’re name. You can always add something later.”

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