Page 75 of Live To Tell

“I don't buy that,” says Grayson, and Rowan adds his agreement.

“Dorian looked into all the teachers' pasts, remember?” said Leif. “That would include the librarian.”

“We shall deal with her later. What have you found on the tapes?” I say.

“Me and Rowan went through everything last night while you were…” Leif smirks at me. “Busy.”

“And?” asks Grayson. “Did you find anything?”

“Some footage with the guy from the photo, but only ever in the background.”

Rowan plays a clip: girls eating lunch together while the one filming—presumably Madison—pans the camera around the cafe, extolling the virtues of the pies.

“Here.” Rowan pauses the clip and taps the screen. “The table across the cafe. I swear that’s him.”

Pulling the laptop around to me, I zoom in. “Maybe.”

“Yes. Because he’s wearing the same jacket in another part.” Rowan fast-forwards the clip and begins playing again. “Keep watching for him.”

This time Madison’s outdoors at night, in an area not dissimilar to that of the town fire night, apart from instead of trees circling the attendees, cars are parked around. Lit headlights point to kids sitting on camping chairs or car hoods, music blaring. The central brightness prevents me from seeing much of the surrounding area, including a few kids standing in the dark. We’ve no clue where they are, only that there’s no other light source and dirt and stones cover uneven ground.

Madison’s friends sit on a checkered blanket, opposite the camera, which occasionally moves around the party. The friend with the shorter hair holds out a liquor bottle.

“No thanks. I have to watch that you get home okay,” says Madison from behind the camera.

“I’m fine!”

“Uh huh. You’ve already drunk too much.”

I blow air into my cheeks. “Scintillating. A group of teens drinking.”

“That’s Annabelle,” I say. “And the other’s Christine.”

“Just don’t open your big mouth,” says Christine, and takes a swig from the bottle. “Telling him you’re a witch when humans are already suspicious about the academy? Bad idea.”

“Meh. Humans often call themselves witches. I’ll wear a pentagram next time we get together.” She snickers. “Show him an interesting spell or two.”

“Good grief,” I mutter.

“We can’t all date witch royalty,” says Christine.

“I prefer vamps,” says Annabelle.

“Shush!” Madison.

“How is this banal conversation relevant?” I ask Rowan.

“Wait. Watch.”

Drunk Annabelle leans forward. “You know Sergei’s dating a human?”

“What the hell?” exclaims Madison. “That’s worse than us. What happens when he pushes her into blood play?”

Annabelle taps the side of her head. “Mind magic.”

“If he doesn’t seriously injure her!” hisses Madison. “Sergei’s asking for trouble.”

Christine scoffs. “Like he’s the only one playing with fire, huh, Maddy?”

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