Page 33 of Salem's Fall
He’s probably right. This is risky—even I know that—but admitting that to Damien feels like I’m losing some invisible battle between us.
“I’ll be okay.”
“And what about your sister Madison? What will she do if something happens to you?” he prods. “Think of her at least.”
“I’m always thinking of Maddie,” I snap. “What she needs is a roof over her head, college tuition, and dinner on the table. This job lets me give her that.” I grab my glass and take a sip of the delicious but overpriced wine, leveling him with a look. “How do you know about Maddie anyway? Big mouth Quinn tell you that too?”
“She’s all over your Instagram.”
I almost spit out my drink. “Now you’re stalking my social media?”
He rests an elbow on the table, fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass. “I simply eyeballed a few things. I like to be well-informed about the people who work for me.”
“But my Instagram is private.”
He grins. “Not for me.”
I’m surprised and a bit flattered. Damien Blackhollow doesn’t seem like the kind of man to spend time on social media sites. He certainly doesn’t have any public profiles ofhis own. Okay, so maybe I’ve stalked him a bit too, but there was nothing there to see.
“Well, if you aren’t going to be safer for Maddie, at least do it for Lucky.” He studies me carefully for another moment. “How would the little guy take care of himself if something happened to you?”
“Lucky is fine.”
“Hmmm, I suppose I could adopt him.” His dark brow furrows as if he’s seriously giving the idea consideration. “He did seem to take quite a liking to me, don’t you think?”
“You’re ridiculous,” I say, a laugh slipping out despite myself. “Listen, I promise I’ll be careful, but I can’t go back yet. I’m getting closer to figuring this out. I need to see Professor Hargrove again tomorrow and ask him about what I learned at the Hollow?—”
“Hargrove?” Damien’s eyes flash and I feel the shift instantly. “Don’t bother. I already told Quinn you’re wasting your time with that quack.”
“I disagree. Nick was really helpful yesterday,” I say, surprised by the venom in Damien’s voice. “I think he knows more than he lets on—about Strega’s Hollow, and maybe even about the Veil. I believe he has knowledge and research that can help your case?—”
“Not likely,” he says, cutting me off. “Hargrove is obsessed with made-up stories and conjecture. Half of what he thinks he knows is pure fairytale, and the rest? All silly conspiracy theories he couldn’t even prove back when he was still a real professor.” He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Trust me, Hargrove won’t help. Your time will be much better spent elsewhere.”
A small smile tugs at my lips.
“Like with you? At some extravagant, absurdly expensive dinner?”
He shrugs. “Perhaps.”
“What’s the matter? You don’t like the idea of someone else helping me?” I tease.
His jaw tightens. “I don’t like the idea of you wasting my billable hours on wild goose chases. You should focus on real leads.”
“Oh yeah? What leads?” I scoff. “You haven’t exactly been helpful.”
Damien’s lips twitch into a small, dangerous smile. He leans in closer, his voice soft but menacing. “You want my help? You want to know the truth about Strega’s Hollow and the Veil?”
I stare at him, unsure where this is going. “Yes. I do.”
“Then let’s make a deal.”
His eyes lock onto mine with a look that makes me feel like I’m hovering on the edge of something dangerous.
“What kind of deal?”
“Quid pro quo, Counselor,” he says, his voice like silk, smooth and commanding. “You tell me something personal, and I’ll tell you something about the Veil.”
The air between us shifts, becoming heavier. This feels risky. Playing games with someone like Damien is a bad idea, but I need to know what he knows. If I’m going to figure out this case, then I need to understand the Veil.
