Page 26 of Lucy Undying

“No!” I say.

She laughs. “It doesn’t bother me. I like that people assume I’m younger than I am. It makes them underestimate me.”

Anthony seems satisfied. “Okay, so if I bring wine the next time we all hang out, I’m not going to get in trouble for corrupting a minor?”

Elle’s laugh is less chiming than it is deliciously wicked. “There’s nothing any of you could do to corrupt me at this point.”

I’m both thrilled that Anthony is already planning a future hangout and also desperate to get Elle to talk more on the subject of corruption, but Rahul stands and holds out a hand to Anthony. “We should get a wiggle on and relieve your sister at the restaurant.”

“Who knew this job would require so much cooking?” Anthony stands, too, then squeezes my shoulder in goodbye. I don’t want them to leave. They make the whole house feel warmer, more alive. I’m forever craving warmth, the need for it scarred onto both my soul and body.

“Call if the foxes get too frisky, or if a wolf pays a visit,” Rahul says.

“You’ll come save me?”

“God, no,” Anthony answers. “But we’ll cater the funeral for a discount.”

“Only a small discount, though,” Rahul points out. “We’re trying to save money.”

“In that case, charge my estate triple. I’ll be dead, what do I care?”

I follow Anthony and Rahul to the front of the house. Elle comes, too, much to my disappointment. I don’t want to be here alone, but I’ve only just met the three of them. I can’t exactly ask them to have a slumber party in an ancient, decrepit house with no electricity, cell service, or hot water.

This afternoon made me realize how long it’s been since I got to hang out with people, though. People who like me because they’re cool and kind. People my mother can’t bribe to stop talking to me.

I wave to Anthony and Rahul as they sprint for the gate to the street. They’re both laughing at the silliness of it, but they aren’t kidding around with how fast they’re moving. They’re spooked by the fox. They have good sense.

I shouldn’t let them come by again; not while I’m still here. I might want to be infected with their love, but the reality is I’m far more likely to infect their lives with my poison.

Elle lingers behind me, leaning against the banister. It’s not fair that I’m exposing her to Goldaming Life’s tentacles, either. But I’m selfish. I need her help, and I want her company.

Besides, I don’t think anything bad will happen. It’ll just be for a couple weeks. Surely that won’t be long enough to ruin her life. The most likely scenario is nothing happens and she never even hears about Goldaming Life. The next most likely scenario is she gets a windfall payout to stop talking to me. But the third most likely scenario…

God. I’m a monster, just like my mother. Putting Elle in a situation she can’t possibly understand or consent to. I open my mouth to tell her not to come back, that I’ve changed my mind about the whole thing. Instead, I find myself saying, “See you in the morning?”

Her face shifts with subtle surprise. For a moment I’m afraid she’s not planning on coming back. But it’s something even more upsetting: She wasn’t ready to leave yet. Before I can correct myself, she walks past me. It’s all I can do not to reach out and spin her into my arms. Tell her she should stay.

Tell her she should leave and never come back.

Elle looks over her shoulder at me. The turmoil on my face must be obvious, because she smiles in amusement. It’s baffling how she transforms with a simple twitch of her lips or quirk of her eyebrows. No wonder people can’t peg her age. I swear she’s a different person from one breath to the next, and I want to know them all.

“In the morning, then,” she says. “I’ll do some research tonight and we’ll get you that cash as soon as possible.” She glances up at Hillingham. I’m in the house’s throat, and as soon as I close the door, I’ll be swallowed again. It’s like she can sense it, too. “Be careful.”

“Of wolves?”

“And foxes, apparently.”

I give her my best No worries smile. It’s well-practiced, one of the many looks I honed through endless sessions in front of a mirror. I have a whole repertoire of them. The No worries. The Who, me? The I’m totally fine with what’s happening here and not screaming inside. And, my specialty, the I’m absolutely listening to what you’re telling me and I definitely agree. That one got a lot of use convincing Dickie to let me come here.

Elle hesitates, like she isn’t buying my reassurances. I’m touched by her concern, but it also sets off alarm bells. She can’t afford to care about me. I make a joke, my other go-to. “My only danger tonight will be hypothermia from taking a cold bath.” It’s a lie on so many levels, because there’s danger around me and even inside me, all the time.

I feel like I’ve won a prize, though, when Elle laughs. “I’ll bring a fix for that in the morning.”

“A water heater?” I ask.

“Even I have my limits.” She waves and strolls into the twilight, unconcerned about fox attacks. I watch until she disappears through the gate, swallowed up by the hedges that block the house from view.

The sigh that escapes my lips is so pathetic I can’t stand myself. Lord Byron is ringing through my head—She walks in beauty, like the night. He was an absolute bastard, and so am I for wanting Elle.

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