Page 52 of What Happened on Roslyn Street?
“Well…” Of course, Margaux has to poke holes in everything. “I have a hunch!”
“A hunch is not proof.” She leans back in her seat, lifting her head higher. “And I’m still mad at you.”
“What for?”
“For going off alone!” Her answer is obvious, and she looks at me as though it should be, shaking her head. “Another dead friend. Is that what you want for me?”
“I’m not dead. I’m right here.”
“And you’re damn lucky for that. I would have marched my ass into hell and brought you back myself. The ride home would not be a pleasant one.”
“It never is, with you.”
“I hope you feel good about yourself,” she says. “Risking your life, going to a vampire club without me—and you got nothing of substance. Just hunches. Justfeelings.”
“It wasn’t a vampire club,” I mutter.
“That is a terrible defense.” She rolls her eyes. “All theparanormal clubs in the area are run by vampire covens. I would know.”
“You would.” My eyes narrow. “And you would know all about lying to your friends, so you should take it easier on me.”
“Perhaps I should, but I will not. My lie didn’t risk anyone’s life.”
“It did! Why can’t you see that? Vampires are dangerous. You could have killed me or Poppy…”
“But Iwouldn’tdo that.”
“You were young!”
“Dhampirs,” she says, stressing the word, “are more in control when we’re young than a turned vampire. I told you this! Do you think my parents would have let me attend public school if I was a tiny killer?”
I open my mouth to argue and promptly close it. Professor Cruz has been helpful. I don’t have a bad word to say about her parents.
“Fine,” I say. “Then we’re even.”
“Really?” Her eyes light up. “You’ll stop holding my lies over my head?”
It isn’t a fair trade. A lifetime of lies versus one, but… I’ve missed Margaux. I can finally admit it to myself now that she’s back in my life. She’s my best friend—the only living friend I have—and I need her.
I needed her all along. Knowing she needed me, too, makes it impossible to push her away.
Margaux has always been strong and solid, seeming like she didn’t need anyone. Now, I know that isn’t true, and I want to be there for her.
“Yes,” I say. “You proved your loyalty and… I’m over it. I’m ready to move on.”
“Finally.” She pushes her dark curls over her shoulders. “You’re very talented, but I think your best talent is your ability to hold a grudge.”
“Maybe so.”
“And,” she says, “I think that’s what’s happening with Caldwell.”
“You don’t believe me, do you?” I frown. “What about his watch?”
“His watch being on the scene doesn’t mean he’s the murderer.”
“It was in the painting?—”
“That still doesn’t mean anything. I’m sorry.”
