It’s sealed with black wax that Finn has already peeled open. I unfurl the letter. In perfect calligraphy it reads:

The honor of your presence is requested by Duke Valentin Mourrir

Saturday, June twenty-first, nineteen thirteen

Thirteen Rue Blanche

At the bottom of the page is a seal. A skull surrounded by a halo of small flowers.

“What is this?”

“A meeting of the Brothers of Morte d’Arthur. If we’re going to find anything about the veil, it’ll be there.”

“You just gave me the address. Why wouldn’t I just go without you?”

He looks pathetic, waterlogged and cold. “Because they won’t let you in. It’s a gentleman’s club.”

“We have Oliver.”

“He isn’t a member.”

I chew on my lip, thinking.

His long fingers unfurl from their fist and he drops his pebbles on the ground. With a grin I’m sure he has used his entire life to get what he wants, he shrugs his shoulders and asks, “Please?”

And here he is again, the vampire begging to be let in from the cold.

I do what all foolish girls do. I let him in.

CHAPTER TWELVE

We put him in an empty guest room as far away from the rest of the family as we can manage. Lena suggests tying him to a chair and I halfway consider it.

“A study group reunion,” he jokes weakly, offering his wrists up to the curtain tie Lena holds in her hands.

She doesn’t bind him, but she twirls the cord between her fingers as a threat.

Maxine juts out her arm and shoves her hand, palm up, in his face. “Give me the invitation.”

It does feel a little like he’s our prisoner, with all of us standing and pacing around him, while he sits at the ornate desk.

Finn sighs and passes it to her. With his wet hair and slumped posture he looks so young.

“It’s a meeting of the Brothers of Morte d’Arthur. A gentleman’s magic club not unlike the Sons but slightly…”

“Slightly what?” I prod.

“Slightly more obsessed with death. If anyone will have information about the veil, it’ll be them.”

“How’d you get this invitation?” Lena asks.

“I’m a provisionary member.”

“Why would they let you in after what you did to the last club who admitted you?”

Finn doesn’t wince or look away as I remind him of his crimes. He’s completely nonplussed. “The Brothers of Morte d’Arthur are famously not… fans of the Sons of Saint Druon. What I did in New York earned me an invitation to the club over here. I laid low at Duke Mourrir’s estate for a while before setting off on my own.”

Maxine rolls her eyes viciously. “How can we trust you?”