A jolt of fury shook her helplessness loose. “Let’s get on with it.”

“Are you so eager to be cast out of Eden?” Anselm asked.

“I’m not sorry for what I did. I’m just sorry we failed. How did you find us anyway?”

“I went to Il Bastone. Your notes were everywhere.” Anselm brushed the rain from his brow, clearly fighting for calm. “How close were you?”

She could still feel the vibration of Darlington’s soul in her palms, the power of it moving through her. She could still hear that ringing, the sound of steel on steel. “Close.”

“I told you both there would be consequences. I didn’t want to be put in this position.”

“No?” Alex asked. Men like Anselm somehow always found themselves in this position. The keeper of the keys. The man with the gavel. “Then you should have listened to us.”

“You are both hereby barred from the use of Lethe’s properties and assets,” said Anselm. “After tonight, if you set foot inside any of our safe houses, it will be considered an act of criminal trespass. If you attempt to use any of the accounts, artifacts, or resources associated with Lethe, you will be charged with theft. Do you understand?”

That was why he hadn’t brought them to the Hutch, the place where Alex had once taken refuge, where she had bandaged herself up on more than one occasion, where Dawes had once defended her against Sandow. She could hear cars passing in the rain outside, the whoop of revelers headed home from some Halloween party.

“I need a verbal confirmation,” said Anselm.

“I understand,” whispered Dawes, tears spilling onto her cheeks.

“You should put her on probation,” said Alex. “Go ahead and banish me.

We all know I’m the bad apple here. Dawes is an asset Lethe can’t afford to lose.”

“Unfortunately, Miss Stern, I don’t think Lethe can afford to keep either of you. The decision is made. Do you understand?”

There was an edge to his voice now, his red-tape, follow-the-rules calm fraying against his anger.

Alex met his gaze. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

“I don’t deserve your contempt, Alex. I offered to help you, and you looked me in the eye and lied to me.”

A bitter laugh escaped her. “You didn’t offer to help me until you knew I had something you wanted. You were using me and I was happy to whore for you for the right price, so let’s not pretend there was something noble in that transaction.”

Anselm’s lip curled. “You don’t belong here. You never have. Crass.

Uncouth. Uneducated. You are a blight on Lethe.” “She fought for him,” Dawes rasped.

“Excuse me?”

Dawes wiped her sleeve across her runny nose. Her shoulders were still slumped, but her tears were gone. Her eyes were clear. “When you and the board wanted to pretend Darlington couldn’t be saved, we found a way. Alex fought for him, we fought for him, when no one else would.”

“You put this organization and the lives of everyone on this campus at risk. You tampered with forces far beyond your understanding or control. Do not think to paint yourselves the heroes when you broke every rule intended to protect—”

Dawes gave a long sniffle. “Your rules are shit. Let’s go, Alex.”

Alex thought of the Hutch in all of its shabby glory, the old window seat, the painted scenes of shepherds and fox hunts on the walls. She thought of Il Bastone, its warm lamplight, the front parlor where she’d whiled away the summer, snoozing on the couch, reading paperbacks, feeling safe and easy for the first time in her life.

She saluted Anselm with both middle fingers, and followed Dawes out of Eden.

29

When Alex woke the next morning, her body ached and she couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering, despite the covers piled on top of her. Her defiance and anger were gone, drained away by nightmares of Darlington crushed beneath Black Elm, Hellie fading before her eyes, Babbit Rabbit’s bloodied little body.

After Anselm had banished them, Alex had invited Dawes to stay with her and Mercy at the dorm. It was closer to the Hutch than her apartment.

But Dawes had wanted to be alone.

“I just need some time to myself. I—” Her voice broke.

Alex had hesitated, then said, “Someone needs to go to Black Elm.”

“The cameras are all clear,” said Dawes. “But I’ll check in on him tomorrow.”

Whatever I am will be unleashed upon the world. Alex had seen the circle of protection flicker herself. “You shouldn’t go alone.”

“I’ll ask Turner.”

Alex knew she should volunteer, but she wasn’t sure she could face Darlington—in any form. Did he know how close they’d come? He’d been there. He’d saved her yet again, and sacrificed his chance at freedom. She wasn’t ready to look him in the eye.

“You went to see him,” said Dawes. “The night before the ritual.”

Alex must have been spotted on the camera. “I had to get the vessel.”

“He won’t talk to me. Just sits there meditating or whatever.”

“He’s trying to keep us safe, Dawes. The way he always did.”

Except this time he was the threat. Dawes nodded, but she didn’t look convinced.

“Be careful,” Alex said. “Anselm—”

“Black Elm isn’t Lethe property. And someone has to take care of Cosmo.

Of both of them.”

Alex watched Dawes disappear into the rain. She wasn’t made to take care of anyone or anything. Hellie was proof of that. Babbit Rabbit.

Darlington.

She had trudged home in the wet, changed into dry pajamas, eaten four Pop-Tarts, and fallen into bed. Now she rolled over, shaking with chills and famished.

Mercy was sitting up in bed, a copy of Orlando open in her lap, a cup of tea steaming atop the upended vintage suitcase she used as a bedside table.

“Why can’t we just try again?” Mercy asked. “What’s stopping us?”

“Good morning to you too. How long have you been up?”