When he looked over, Tess was blushing scarlet too. “Oh, we have a project to work on. Don’t we, Eliot?”
“Right,” he agreed, although the excuse was unconvincing. What project would they be working on during the summer?
Anna raised her eyebrows, but before she could say anything else, Tess was pushing Eliot through the kitchenette, towards her bedroom. “I’ll catch you later!” Tess said.
With the door shut behind them, she seemed more comfortable. “Well, sorry about that,” Tess said. “I forgot she was coming home today. Otherwise, I would’ve said we could go to your place, but I wasn’t sure …” She didn’t have to finish the sentence. Even though the devil hadn’t made an appearance, there was no way to know that his dorm was safe.
But there was another revelation, one that seemed even more disconcerting to him. She didn’t want other people knowing that they were friends.
He sat down on her desk chair and tried his best to not look like he was sulking. She folded cross-legged on her bed. “What’s wrong?” Tess asked.
There were a million answers to choose from, so it was definitely not a good idea when he said, “Nothing.”
Tess’s frown deepened. “Eliot. You can tell me.”
But he couldn’t. He could tell her everything about his fears of the devil, how much he missed his mother, how badly he wanted to leave this place and never look back. But never, not in a million years, could he sit here in her room and tell her that now, after all this time, he cared about her. Deeply.
“I don’t want you to get hurt in all this,”Eliot said. It was one form of the truth anyway.
“Are you afraid?” Tess asked.
Eliot closed his eyes. “Not for myself,” he said.
There was the sound of creaking, and a few soft footsteps, and warmth on his cheek. When he opened his eyes, Tess was there in front of him. Her hand was on his cheek and her face was inches away, so close he only needed to shift and he’d be kissing her.
He would not make the first move. Eliot Birch was a lot of things, and forward was not one of them.
The only thing he could do was reach out and rest one hand on her waist. With his other, he brushed the hair out of her eyes. “I don’t know what I would do,” Eliot said, knowing how much this would reveal, “if I walked into Jessop on any given day and you weren’t the one there to insult me. If I had to know that I would never see you again.”
It was too much. It wasn’t enough. It was all he could offer.
“Nothing is going to happen to me,” Tess said. She leaned in a little and this was it, Eliot knew, this was it, and maybe he’d been wrong about her feelings changing because now she was leaning towards him and—
And the timing was wrong. She knew it as well as he did, judging by the look of her. He sat back, putting space between them.
“Tess,” Eliot said, and her back tightened, like she knew what he was going to ask. “Will you play for me?”
She turned, surprised. “What?”
He nodded to her cello, leaning against the wall. “Your cello. I want to hear you play. Will you?”
She shrugged like there was nothing better to do, even though he had a million ideas—ideas he would never say out loud, of course. “You don’t want to hear me play,” she said.
He sensed an odd bit of hesitation, and her fingers were tracing circles in her thigh. She didn’t look at him. “But don’t you love it?” he asked. “Are you nervous I won’t think you’re good?”
She laughed, not a real laugh, but a sad and lilting thing that oddly reminded him of a dreary pigeon. “I—”
“Just play, Tess,” he said. “It’ll distract you.”
She didn’t look happy about it, but she didn’t argue for once. It took her a moment to unpack the cello, take out the bow, run it across the strings. He waited for her to take out a stand or some music but she didn’t. She sat there, screwing up her nose at the cello for a moment before she touched the bow to the strings and began to play.
Before that moment, that second, Eliot thought he knew her. After all, he cared for her, didn’t he? He knew about her parents, about how much she loved her sister, about her drive and ferocity.
What he didn’t know was that she could take the entire world in the palm of her hands and reflect it with her fingertips. He didn’t know that she could stop both time and his heartbeat all at once, fold him into nonexistence between notes. He didn’t know that she could be even more entrancing to him.
Which was to say, when she took a breath at the end of the song as if she’d been holding it the entire time, he realized he didn’t know her at all.
It was like finding the correct answer, like reading a spell and watching it unfold. It was like nothing at all he’d ever experienced before and everything he’d ever wanted. He was so, so tired of wanting her this much.
He knew he should’ve said something when she finished, though her eyes were still closed and she was curved over the body of the cello. And when her eyes slid open and found him, peaceful as he’d ever seen them, he definitely should’ve spoken.
But Eliot, who always had words dancing in his head, could think of nothing to say.
When she played, it was a lot like watching magic.
“Would you like to hear something else?” Tess asked.
There was only one answer. “Yes.”
fifty
Tess
SHE‘D FINISHED PLAYING AND PUT AWAY HER CELLO, AND they went for food, and then they each went to their separate dorms to get dressed for the night’s activities.
On her walk back, she tried to call Nat. Her sister didn’t answer—hadn’t answered her all week, since their argument. But if she hadn’t heard from the school, then at least Nat hadn’t snuck out and gotten expelled.
She tried Nat one final time. Nothing.
When she returned, Anna was waiting for her. “So. What’s going on with you and Birch?” she asked, ready to launch a full-out assault. “And why am I just hearing about it now?”
Tess bit her lip. She couldn’t keep it from Anna forever, could she? “He liked me, but I think I scared him away.”
Anna snorted. “Good girl.” But then she caught the look on Tess’s face and frowned back. “Or … is that a bad thing?”
“I don’t know,” Tess hedged, running her fingers along the edge of a tea towel. But she did know.
“You like him, don’t you?” Anna asked.
Like wasn’t the word for it, Tess thought. She marveled at his compassion, so carefully hidden away most of the time. She was proud of his intelligence, even though she had no claim to shaping it, even though it had nothing to do with her. Her heart flipped a little bit every time she saw his face, even though he was either smirking or saying something ridiculous about 99 percent of the time.
This was dangerous territory.
“I think I do,” Tess said.
Anna leaned back on the kitchen table. “I mean, he’s nice, when he talks. Which isn’t often, but that’s just from class. And his accent is good.” She shrugged, ducking into her room. “Could be fun.”
So Anna wasn’t fully on board, yet. But if they succeeded tonight, if the sun rose to find both of them alive and breathing, then there would be time to bring her around. Time for all of it.
Tess and Eliot met outside of the doors to Jessop. Both wore black, not because of any previous agreement, but because, at least in Tess’s mind, it felt like the best color in which to do something illicit.
“Are you ready?” Eliot asked.
No, but she had to be.
The library did not look like it had endured the horror of Regina’s body this afternoon or like it held any danger for them this evening. But, as they both knew far too well, looks were deceiving.
“Mathilde?” Tess called, letting the heavy door shut behind them.
Her aunt appeared in the door of the office and walked towards them. She stopped at the edge of the balcony overhang, shrouded in late
evening shadows. “Good. I was waiting for you,” Mathilde said. She glanced behind her at one of the large windows, where they could see the sun beginning to set. “First, we must shutter the windows. I don’t want anyone to see what is happening and come investigating. We are the only ones who should be in here, beginning to end. Nobody else needs to be endangered.”
Tess and Eliot exchanged a glance. “We always shutter the windows at night,” Tess agreed quietly, even though she hated the idea of losing what little moonlight leaked through the windows. Neither of them particularly wanted to be here in the first place, and remaining in the library in the dark seemed even worse.
They worked their way around the room, closing each shutter until the only light that remained was the dim reddish tint from the emergency exit sign. Mathilde remained under the balcony and away from the light, arms crossed over her chest, until she became nothing but a dark suggestion of a person.
“Good,” she said when they finished. “Now, follow me.”
Tess could feel Eliot’s eyes on her, dark and uncertain. And even though she felt the same way, she couldn’t look back at him. To look back was to confirm there was a reason to fear. Mathilde was here, a supervisor, a guide, a source of knowledge. They would be fine.
Soon enough, all of this would be over.
Tess rubbed her thumb across the silvery scar on her wrist, all that remained of the gash after Eliot healed her. She needed this to be over.
In a single file line, Mathilde, Tess, and Eliot went into her aunt’s office. It was fully dark back here with no light leaking in from the reading room, and Tess was relieved when Mathilde stopped to take two flashlights out of her desk, one for herself and one for Tess. The emergency lights were always on in the stacks, so even though the shadows were heavy and thick, the darkness was gray instead of black.
She was surprised when Mathilde led the way up instead of down. Eliot must’ve been, too, because she sensed him pausing for a moment before following them, a little slower than before. By the looks of it, they were taking the path through the stacks to the upper floors—but that made no sense. All three of them knew that the devil’s book was in the subterranean tunnel under the basement, and unless Mathilde had moved the book when they weren’t there, then going upstairs would do nothing to rid themselves of the devil.
Tess’s internal clock chimed dimly. This whole thing was taking too long, stretching too far. They’d already been at the library for almost half an hour, and she could feel the tension inside of her stomach build with every second that passed.
“Mathilde?” Eliot’s voice was quiet behind Tess, as if the darkness made him feel unable to speak at his full volume. Mathilde, who was halfway around the landing to the second floor and rounding the stairs to the third, turned back. There was something weird and foggy about her eyes, something dark about the way she held her hands around the flashlight.
“What is it, boy?” Mathilde asked, and Tess’s warning bells flared a little higher. There was something hostile in the way Mathilde called Eliot “boy.” It wasn’t like she’d simply forgotten his name. The word was a spat insult, an insinuation of guilt for some terrible crime. And beyond that, Mathilde’s voice had taken on a gravelly tone that made Tess’s skin crawl.
Eliot bumped into her, and she hadn’t realized she’d stopped moving. Her hands were at her sides, and she didn’t know that Eliot shared her fear until his icy cold fingers moved to touch hers.
“Why are we going up?” Eliot asked. His voice was solid, strong, but he wrapped his hand around Tess’s and squeezed. She had a knife in her belt, but she wasn’t ready to reach for it yet, let alone use it.
“I shut and locked the fire doors to the first floor,” Mathilde said. “To contain everything in the basement. So we have to go down through the elevator staircase.” Her mouth twisted into a smile, and it was so unlike any smile Tess had ever seen on her great aunt’s face. A chill ran up her spine. She squeezed Eliot’s hand back. If only she could speak to him without Mathilde hearing, lean over to whisper in his ear, There is something very wrong here.
“But why would we go all the way up, instead of down?” Eliot asked. His hand was moving, creeping up the back of her shirt, skimming the skin along Tess’s waist, and she was about to grab his wrist with her free hand when she realized he was feeling along the waist of her jeans for the knife he knew was there.
“This way is better,” Mathilde said. “He can’t get out, then.” That smile stayed on her lips, that ferocity in her teeth. Eliot’s hand was a centimeter away from the knife, almost there, gracing the edge of it—
“Theresa, come here and hold the light.”
His hand stopped. Tess had to move forward, to make it look like nothing was happening. His finger tapped twice quickly on her overheated skin. It was both an urging to stay safe and a reminder that she was armed.
“Okay,” Tess said. She’d only moved a few steps forward when Mathilde turned off the flashlight, tossed it aside, and lunged.
Before Tess could think, before she could react, Mathilde’s icy cold hands were around her throat. The flashlight dropped out of Tess’s hands, going out when it hit the ground, plunging them into the gray darkness of the emergency lights.
There was a shout, and she wasn’t sure if it was from her or Eliot. She couldn’t breathe around Mathilde’s hands. Her hands flew up to Mathilde’s, trying to pry them off, but they had too tight of a hold.
The whites of Mathilde’s eyes went black.
It was the devil’s voice that said, “You’re mine now.”
fifty one
Tess
“TESS!” ELIOT SHOUTED.
Mathilde pushed Tess back against the bookshelves, pinning the knife between the shelf and Tess’s body. The old woman was crushing her throat, both hands closed around it, gleeful murder present in her inky eyes. Dark spots bloomed on the edge of Tess’s vision.
Deep down, sickeningly, Tess knew that the devil wasn’t only trying to strangle her. He was trying to break her.
If she could angle her back, slide out from behind the shelf, maybe Eliot would be able to grab the knife from her belt, but she could barely move. All she could do was pathetically paw at Mathilde’s hands as the life ebbed out of her.
The devil’s voice pressed against her on all sides, so present and loud in her fading mind. Laughing.
She felt Eliot slam into her, coming between Mathilde’s arms and her neck, bending the frail woman’s arms despite the devil’s borrowed strength. Mathilde cried out, losing her grip, and Tess staggered back against the shelf.
Tess blinked hard, trying to focus. She dropped down to her knees as air rushed back into her lungs. Everything was still wavy, a little bit unclear. Mathilde and Eliot struggled above her. Mathilde’s hands reached for Eliot’s throat, but she was too short to reach it with him holding her back, and Mathilde was too wiry for Eliot to get a good grip on her. And over the commotion there was the roar of the devil’s voice, but Tess couldn’t quite figure out what he was saying.
It took a moment to realize her hands were wet and ink was dripping down from the shelves, pooling on the floor around her.
“Eliot!” she cried, but her voice was a soft rasp, not nearly loud enough to overpower the devil’s. Weakly, she pulled the knife from her belt and crawled through the thick ink towards Eliot and Mathilde. She didn’t care that the ink was all over her hands, running up to her wrists. The devil couldn’t hurt her on his own.
She could slit an Achilles tendon, probably, or stab an artery, if she could get close enough. They’d fought their way to the dumbwaiter, with Mathilde’s back to it. Sludgy ink poured down the shelves, coating Mathilde and melding into her skin, forming a cover over her. It looked sturdy, rough and hard to break, like a shield.
The door to the dumbwaiter was open at Mathilde’s waist level, and Tess had an idea. She gripped the slippery shelves, hoisting herself up. If they could incapacitate her, then they could cut off her he
ad before Eliot was harmed, before the devil could do any more damage.
Not-Mathilde was too distracted by Eliot to notice Tess slinking down the shelf towards her. She wiped her hands off on her jeans, trying to rid them of the ink.
Mathilde pushed Eliot back against the opposite shelf, and his head made an awful noise as it cracked against the metal. Ink darkened his hair and made blacker spots on his already black shirt. A line of blood trickled down from his temple, from a cut in the shape of Mathilde’s nails.
The space between Mathilde and the elevator was just what Tess needed.
Tess moved behind her and grabbed Mathilde by the chin and hair, forcing her to bend backwards, bringing her head down. She slammed Mathilde’s neck on the lip of the open dumbwaiter. Eliot didn’t even need a look from her to recover and crush the door to the dumbwaiter down as Tess took her hands away.
The bones of Mathilde’s neck made a sickening crunch as they were crushed beneath the dumbwaiter’s sliding door. Tess turned away, unable to see the inky body and blood oozing from the torn bits of flesh and align them with her aunt.
And still, she could hear the devil laughing.
“Tess,” Eliot said, and his voice was as ragged and gory as Mathilde’s body. “I need the knife.”
Numbly, she handed it to him.
She turned away, but she could still hear the noise. The awful schlick of the knife cutting through her aunt’s neck, the thump as the head detached and fell into the dumbwaiter.
Tess flinched when her aunt’s body exploded in a deluge of ink. The bones clattered to the ground, looking as scorched as Regina’s had.
Her butterfly aunt, her frail companion, the only person who’d been able to save her.
Neither of them moved. They should’ve, she knew, before the ink all around them began forming something sinister.
But she couldn’t move her feet. She couldn’t come to terms with the fact that Aunt Mathilde had been here, seconds ago, and now she … wasn’t.
The Devil Makes Three Page 24