“What will we do once we get it?” I ask. It didn’t look like the veil was equipped with a lock.

“Perhaps the key will have more information,” Lena offers, but she sounds unsure.

Oliver sighs. “There’s something else the duke said at dinner. It could mean nothing.”

“Spill it,” Maxine prompts.

“He implied only those who opened the veil can close it. Said something along the lines of them not having to worry about the veil ever being closed because those who opened it probably had no idea they’d done it at all.”

“He sure let a lot of information fly freely at dinner. Could it be a trap?” I ask. I’m uneasy but I do feel some level of relief wash over me. I may have opened the veil, but there’s a possibility I can make things right and close it too.

“Or maybe a few hundred years of life make you feel invincible,” Lena offers.

“Is there any way for us to find out?” Maxine asks.

I suppose he’s right. Either the key is real and it can close the veil, restore my magic, and stop the killings, or we’re being set up. But leaving the veil open isn’t an option, so I will tug on the only lead we have and hope something unravels. “We’ll find out once we get the key.”

Finn toys with the edge of the curtain, sitting a ways from the rest of us across the room under the window. “So it appears we’re stuck with each other until this mess is cleaned up.”

“How do you know he’ll help us? He’s betrayed us before,” Oliver asks, refusing to ask Finn directly, but instead directing the question to me.

I can’t bear to look at Finn, so I look at the wall instead. “Because he can’t close the veil on his own. He needs us if he has any hope of holding on to his power.” I don’t know much about Finn—he feels slippery, impossible to grasp—but I do know he’d do anything for his own magic. For once, I have the upper hand. The darkest parts of me relish the control. The terrible tether still stretches between us, but the leash is firmly in my hand. I want to tug.

Oliver grabs a shiny silver pen from Maxine’s desk and chucks it at Finn. It clatters into his shoulder and he winces. “I didn’t deserve that.”

Oliver just rolls his eyes.

“Stop it, the two of you. Let’s focus on fixing this,” I scold. “We need the key.”

“It’s well guarded,” Finn protests.

I’m struck with a memory, Finn and me, younger than we are now, sneaking into the Commodore Club to steal Boss Olan’s dagger. He called me his Watson. I really believed we were partners.