“We think we need him to close the veil, Oliver. I’m so sorry. We wouldn’t do this if we believed there was another way.” Him. I don’t even need to say his name.

Understanding dawns on him quick and terrible. “No,” he says harshly. “Absolutely not.”

“He’s waiting with Maxine and Lena now. I’m so sorry, we didn’t know what else to do. But I’m trying to be honest with you, Oliver. It’s why I’m here.”

His mouth is set in a fine line, but he nods once in understanding. He’s angry, but he isn’t angry with me. It’s the best I could possibly hope for.

The DuPre flat is dark when we arrive back. My shoes make a squelching sound as I step into their marble entryway.

“They’re down the hall.”

Oliver nods wordlessly and follows.

The guest room they’ve put Finn in is evident by the sliver of light spilling from under the door. It’s the only sign of life in the entire home.

I push open the door and find Finn over a piece of paper on the floor, the nub of a pencil in his hand.

“I didn’t think you’d still be up,” I greet them.

“Finn’s drawing us the layout of the house where the party is being held,” Maxine answers.

Finn tosses the blanket slung around his neck to me. “Rain got you, too?”

I take the blanket with a grimace, but use it anyway, eager to stop myself from shivering.

Oliver says nothing, but I can feel the rage radiating off him.

My brother and I used to say that Oliver grew too fast. One summer suddenly he was fifteen and banging his head into doorways. It was like he never quite got used to his larger body, and even years later he still enters rooms with his head slightly ducked. But he rises to his full height now, shoulders square and his breathing shallow.

“He’s a rotten artist,” Lena says of Finn’s drawing.

Finn smiles up at Oliver, infuriatingly charming and at ease. “Callahan. Always a pleasure.”

Oliver stares down at him, and balls his hands into fists at his side. Then, he strides across the room, towering over Finn. “Get up,” he demands through gritted teeth. It was a bit of a running joke with Oliver and William, the fact that they were opposites, Oliver the lover, William the fighter. But Oliver looks ready for a fight now.

“As soon as I’m done with the third floor?” Finn doesn’t lift his eyes from the paper.

“Now,” Oliver snarls.

To my surprise, Finn acquiesces and pushes himself up off the ground. He follows Oliver into the en suite bathroom. The door shuts behind them with a click.

Lena and Maxine scramble from the ground, and together we rush to put our ears to the door.