Page 4 of The Nightmare's Kiss

“Ha. Right. You majored in…what was it?”

I suppress another wince, this one of shame. “Psychology.”

“Oh.” It’s a knowingoh. An “oh, damn, that’s not gonna get you a job anytime soon” kind ofoh. “So, do you intend to go into therapy, or research, or…?”

“I’d need more school for either of those, and I’m not so sure that academia is for me,” I say—the tried-and-true, practiced-in-front-of-a-mirror answer.

I see his mind working, coming up with the obvious next question:So what’s your plan?Thankfully, he chooses to discard it. “Well, it’s a broad field. I’m sure you’ll figure out some way to apply it.”

Gratitude flushes through me. It’s a kinder response than I expected from Ethan, but I have to remember, this is what he does. He’s always nice, until he isn’t. “Thanks,” I say. “Speaking of applying yourself… I heard a little rumor about what you’re doing back in town.”

He chuckles, leaning back in his seat. “This town does love to gossip.”

“Especially about…you know,” I say, waggling my eyebrows.

“Right.” He cups a hand around his mouth. “The Facility.” His mocking, hushed tone is an uncanny imitation of the way my mom said it last night, and I can’t help but laugh. But beneath the amusement, I’m also relieved. If he’s able to joke about it, the place can’t be as nefarious as people make it seem. Right?

“So it’s true?”

“It is. Though I’m really not allowed to talk about anything that goes on in there, so please don’t ask.”

“Not even a hint?” I ask—mostly teasing—but he only shakes his head.

I manage to pry a few sparse details out of him, such as him working there for going on two years, meaning he was hired straight out of college, but after that he goes tight-lipped again.

“Come on, Mara.” He leans forward slightly, still smiling. “I know you didn’t ask me here just to ask about the Facility.”

“Uh…” Oops. I’ve been caught.

“The truth is that you want to ask for details about my life without admitting you want to know. Am I right?”

The hint of a smirk suggests he believes he’s right on the money, which ismuchworse than him catching me out in my scheme. But openly dry-heaving at the thought will definitely burn this potential info source, so I force a smile and scramble to find a middle ground. “Well, to be honest, it’s also the fact that you’re one of the few other college grads in town, and I’m looking for job leads.”

I expect his ego to be mollified by that, but instead he lets out an incredulous huff. “Oh, well, you’re definitely not going to find that at the Facility.”

It hadn’t even occurred to me as a possibility, but his immediate dismissal of the thought irritates me. “Why is that so ridiculous?” He got hired just out of college, didn’t he? “Is the work highly specialized?”

“No, it’s—” He pauses, realizing he almost gave away information, and gives me a thin smile. “It’s a very high-stress work environment, let’s put it that way.”

Great. Now I’m annoyed he thinks I can’t handle itandannoyingly curious about what he’s trying so hard not to tell me.

I’m spared the struggle to find a civil answer as a shadow spills across our table. I look up, expecting to see Eloise’s summery form, but instead startle as I find an unfamiliar stranger looming over me. A teenage stranger wearing black, including lipstick and eyeshadow, with a streak of neon green dyed in the dark curls that frame her brown face.

“Your latte,” she says stiffly, placing my frowning sunflower mug in front of me. Its expression matches hers almost comically.

“Oh, tha—”

“I was also instructed to ask if you need me to spill a hot beverage on your conversation partner,” she says in a flat tone, her eyes fixed somewhere above my head.

I blink. Blink again. “No, thank you,” I say, and she shuffles off without another word. I turn to Ethan, baffled.

He smothers a laugh into a cough behind one hand. “I see you haven’t met Blaire yet?”

“Most definitely not,” I say.

“She’s Eloise’s niece. Visiting for the summer. And she’s…well.” He shrugs. “You saw.”

“Yeah,” I agree, glancing after her. She’s walking around delivering other drinks around the cafe, her presence like a dark cloud hovering over whichever table she visits. “Customer service does not seem to be her forte.”

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