Riley didn’t look convinced, his eyes remaining narrowed and his hand stiff under my fingers. “What is the worst this teacher could do to the boy?” he asked dismissively.

“You should call him,” Bree interrupted suddenly, swallowing a spoonful of applesauce. I’d almost forgotten she was there. “I tried like three times last night, but he wouldn’t pick up. But maybe he’d answer for you? I mean, he could just be sick. But if you really think he could be in trouble…” She shot Riley a cold stare. “Andi’s right. We don’t know. Something could’ve happened to him.”

But no matter whose cell phone we used—mine or Bree’s (Riley just stared at me when I asked for his)—Vik’s phone only went straight to voicemail. The three of us sat there mostly quiet for the rest of lunch as all the other students laughed and talked or asked each other out to the Pumpkin Ball, stammering and blushing. High school went on, a carefree bubble around us, even as a deep stifling fog lingered over our table.

Before we knew it, the bell was ringing again, calling us to the next little slice of school.

“Andi,” Bree said, before we parted ways in the hall. “We need to find him, alright? We need to find Vik as soon as we can. Ask your parents to talk to his.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “And if you can get your boyfriend to help…”

“If it’s important to Andromeda,” said Riley on my other side, not even acknowledging Bree’s furtiveness, “then I will do so.” As thrilled as the sentiment made me, there was something distant about his tone that had me suspecting his mind was elsewhere.

“Good,” Bree replied. “I’ll try swinging by his place after school, alright? I’ll see you guys in Algebra 2, but call me after you talk to your parents tonight and tell me what you find out. Okay?”

“Right,” I said. Bree gave me a curt nod and went off to Economics, leaving me and Riley in the hall.

I moved to continue to class, but when I realized Riley wasn’t following me, I turned back in confusion. He seemed to be in his own little world. His flawless face was wearing an expression of deep concentration.

“The boy is gone,” he muttered, remaining stock still. “And this is the same boy who possessed the Necronomicon?”

I frowned. “But it got stolen.”

He didn’t seem to hear me, his eyes smoldering as he went on. “He is on intimate terms with this teacher, who you say has spoken of my brethren…”

The word ‘intimate’ almost made me gag, but before I could protest I noticed that all the other students had cleared out of the hall.

“Riley, we need to get to History,” I urged.