“You can’t, I suppose. Can I trouble you for a glass or water, or”—he gestures to his soaked-through clothing—“a towel?”

“No,” Maxine says, but I toss him a spare blanket from the bed on instinct.

Maxine glares at me.

Sorry, I mouth. It’s strange to be around Finn again. It’s awful and itchy and nauseating, but he makes it so easy to forget what he’s done with his easy posture and quick smiles. He’s someone you want to believe. I want to believe him now, I always have, but that’s my problem.

Am I just that easy to trick or is Finn an extraordinarily talented trickster?

He doesn’t look extraordinary at all right now. He looks cold and damp and at our mercy.

“So what do you propose?” Lena asks. “We let you stay here and you go to this party and what… report back to us?”

“Yes,” Finn says.

I shake my head. “Absolutely not. You need to take us with you.”

“They won’t allow women in.”

“So take Oliver,” I propose.

At the mention of his name, Finn’s mouth turns to a grimace. “Is it my only option?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Fine. Are we quite settled, then?”

“No. Why now? You were perfectly happy to ignore me back at the camp.”

Finn sucks in a breath through his nose and looks down at the carpet. “You were right, my magic isn’t acting right. And the murder I read about in the paper… I have a hunch it’s related. I thought I could fix it myself. I’m beginning to think that might not be true.”

I chew the inside of my cheek and consider his words. There’s nothing I want less than to rely on him for help, than to have him under the same roof as me. But if what my father said is correct and the murder is related to the disruption in the veil, I can’t afford to be selfish. Lives hang in the balance as long as the veil is still open, and it’s my responsibility to close it.

It was my selfishness that killed Mrs. Vykotsky, that earned Oliver a bullet in the stomach. I don’t want to be a selfish person anymore.

“You stay until the party and then you’re out,” I say.

“Deal,” Finn agrees.

“And if you try to pull anything, we turn you over to the Sons. Let them deal with you.”

Again, he grimaces. “Seems fair.”

“House rules!” Maxine puts her hands on her hips. “No joining for family meals, Greta will serve you in your room. Keep quiet. If I see you speaking to my little sister, I will skin you alive.”

“I missed you too, Maxine.”

She strides up and smacks him on the side of the head. “Added rule: no saying stupid things like that.”

“Four rules. Got it.”

“I reserve the right to add more rules.”