“I think we can all agree it can’t be a coincidence,” said Emma. “Them both dying.”
“I don’t think it is,” said Mark. “But she could have been killed because she knew something, not because she was a sacrifice like he was or part of the same ritual. Death breeds death, after all.” He looked thoughtful. “She was invited to this Lottery performance. She thought it was important enough to carry the ticket around with her. I think it could be a thread to follow.”
“Or it could be nothing,” said Jules.
“We don’t have much else to investigate,” pointed out Emma.
“We do, actually,” said Jules. “We’ve still got your photos from the inside of the cave at the convergence. And now we have whoever was at Wells’s house and shot at me—we’ve still got my gear jacket with whatever poison he used on it. Maybe Malcolm could look into that, find out if it’s associated with a particular demon or warlock who might sell it.”
“Great,” Emma said. “We can do both. August eleventh is tomorrow night.” She frowned at the ticket. “Oh God, semiformal. Fancy. I don’t think I have any dresses that fancy, and Mark will need a suit. . . .”
“Mark doesn’t have to go,” Julian said quickly. “He can stay at the Institute.”
“No,” Mark said. His voice was calm, but his eyes sparked. “I will not. I was brought here to help you investigate these murders, and that is what I will do.”
Julian sat back. “Not if we can’t rune you. It’s not safe.”
“I have protected myself without runes for many years. If I do not go with you, then those in Faerie who sent me here will learn of it, and they will not be pleased. The punishment will be severe.”
“Oh, let him go,” Livvy said, looking anxious. “Jules—”
Julian touched the edge of his shirt, the gesture half-unconscious. “How will they know to punish you,” he said, “if you don’t tell them?”
“You think it is easy to lie when you have grown up around people who do not lie?” Mark said, cheeks flushing with anger. “And do you think they do not have their own ways to ferret out lies when humans tell them?”
“You’re human,” Julian said hotly. “You’re not one of them, you don’t act like one of them—”
Mark flung himself up from the table and stalked across the room.
“What’s he doing?” Emma stared. Mark had made his way to a neighboring table of pierced and tattooed mundane girls who looked like they’d just come from a nightclub and were giggling madly as he talked to them.
“By the Angel.” Julian threw down some money on the table and scrambled to his feet, ducking out of the booth. Emma scraped everything back into Ava’s handbag and hastily followed Julian, the others at her heels.
“Might I make free with your lettuce, my lady?” Mark was saying to a girl with bright pink hair and a pile of salad on her plate. She pushed it toward him, grinning.
“You’re gorgeous,” she said. “Even with the fake elf ears. Forget the lettuce, you can make free with my—”
“All right, you’ve made your point, enough.” Julian took Mark—who was cheerfully eating a baby carrot—by the wrist and tried to draw him toward the door. “Sorry, ladies,” he said as a chorus of protests rose.
The girl with pink hair stood up. “If he wants to stay, he can stay,” she said. “Who are you, anyway?”
“I’m his brother,” Julian said.
“Boy, do you two not look alike,” she said in a way that made Emma bristle. She’d called Mark gorgeous—Julian was just as gorgeous, just in a quieter, less flashy way. He didn’t have Mark’s sharp cheekbones or faerie charm, but he had luminous eyes and a beautiful mouth that—
She goggled at herself. What was wrong with her? What was wrong with her thoughts?
Livvy made an exasperated noise, stomped forward, and seized Mark by the back of the shirt. “You don’t want him,” she said to the pink-haired girl. “He has syphilis.”
The girl stared. “Syphilis?”
“Five percent of people in America have it,” said Ty helpfully.
“I do not have syphilis,” Mark said angrily. “There are no sexually transmitted diseases in Faerieland!”
The mundane girls fell instantly silent.
“Sorry,” Jules said. “You know how syphilis is. Attacks the brain.” The table of girls were open-mouthed as Livvy hauled Mark by his shirt through the restaurant and into the parking lot, the rest of them following.
The moment they were outside and the door had closed behind them, Emma burst out laughing. She leaned against Cristina, who was also giggling, as Livvy let go of Mark and smoothed down her skirt, looking unruffled. “Sorry,” Emma said. “It’s just—syphilis?”
“Ty was reading about it today,” said Livvy.
Julian, who had been trying to hide a smile, looked over at Ty. “Why have you been reading about syphilis?”
Ty shrugged. “Research.”