Page 56 of Architecti
“You have moths,” he purrs.
“THEY’RE DEAD,” I shriek, my hands flapping erratically.
“So am I.”He runs around the corner into the bedroom and vanishes.
I make my way inside through the kitchen and into the open-plan living area and freeze.The place is trashed.All my boxes are upturned, my belongings strewn across the floor.
There’s the creak of floorboards.
Goosebumps crawl over my skin, I stagger back into the kitchen, yank open a drawer and grab a knife.
Ribbon-like shadows slink along the skirting boards.My heart rate shoots up.My fingers grow cold.
I raise the knife.
Father steps around the corner.“Whoa!”he says.
“Demon’s sake.I thought you were a burglar.”I chuck the knife in the sink as he opens his arms to hug me.
“What are you doing here?”I ask as I disentangle myself.
“I came to see how the Head of House Inferos was settling into her apartment… And maybe to see if you were okay after the attack.But when I got here, the door was open.”
“This wasn’t you?”
“Why would I trash your apartment?”
I’m about to say he’s done a lot worse but now is not the time to start an argument.
“Then who did?”I ask.
He shakes his head, as if he’s as confused as me.It makes a bead of unease grow in my gut.My father is never unsure.His ego makes sure of that.
“Do you think it’s the Societas?”I ask.
“It makes the most logical sense.Given what I did to Architecti, they’ve always had an interest in me.It makes sense they’d come for you next.”
The words flow off his tongue so easy.Too easy.But my brain is addled and exhausted, and I can’t parse the truth from the lies.
“You’ll need heightened security on House Inferos’s doors.I’ll see to that before morning.”
“Okay.”I shrug.
“Okay?Lucy, do you have any idea how precious you are to me?I won’t let any harm come to you.”
He pulls me in tight.Too tight.
“Father, I’m fine.”
I wriggle out of his grip, and he cups my cheeks, pressing a kiss to my forehead.“You must be protected.”
His words are odd, as if they don’t quite fit the mould of his sentence, but I’m exhausted, and a memory trickles back to me: the Veil tear and the neatness of the cut.
“Did you witness the tears that happened before term started?”I ask.
He nods.
“What was the fabric like?”
