Eli sighed. “I guess you would believe that.”

I raised my eyebrows at him. Was that a denial? “What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” He gestured toward the diary. “So are you investigating, too?”

“Sorta. But I’m not exactly getting anywhere.”

“I’ve got something that might help.” He pulled out a piece of paper from the desk drawer, yawning hugely. He drew something on the page, then stood and handed it to me. Goose bumps went up my arm when our fingers touched for the briefest moment.

I ignored the sensation and stared at the paper. He’d drawn a grid with labeled columns across the top: Name, Motive, Method, Opportunity. In the Name column he’d written Frank Rizzo. Frank was a senior and a Mors demon, one of the more heinous of the kinds. Mors magic was fueled by death. Before The Will, they were known to start wars in order to generate feeding grounds. Now their magic was fueled by special potions whose primary ingredient was collected at ordinary hospitals. The idea turned my stomach.

“The person who fits in all those categories is most likely the killer,” said Eli, taking a seat on the chair he’d occupied during our last dream-session.

“Why Frank?” I didn’t know him personally, just rumors about his bad reputation.

“It’s probably nothing, but he told me he was the secret boyfriend. Pretty sure he was lying, but you never know.”

“Right,” I said, my body tensing. Frank’s first initial was quite a coincidence, and he definitely wasn’t appropriate boyfriend material for the consul’s daughter, either.

“Hey, you didn’t tell Katarina about my dreams, did you?” Eli sounded half-drunk with sleepiness.

I grimaced. “Not hardly. Why do you ask?”

“She’s just been really friendly to me the last couple of days. It’s weird, but I never used to remember my dreams before you came along.” His eyes drifted closed, and I stood, setting the diary and paper on the sofa before coming over to him. I waited for his breathing to deepen.

“I’m sorry,” he said, surprising me, “that Lance did that to you. Do you think the pink will fade?”

“I hope so.”

Eli smiled, his eyes still closed. “You should get back at him. I think he might even respect you for it. He’s a heavy sleeper, you know.”

Revenge against Lance was an intriguing thought. I opened my mouth to ask him if he had any suggestions on what I could do, but he’d fallen asleep. I sighed, and then joined him on the chair and in his dreams.

* * *

Eli’s dream that night proved to be a bust. It was about ice fishing on Lake Erie with his dad and Katarina. Boring, cold, and pointless, although at least I made it through the entire session without getting booted, intentionally or otherwise. Progress.

Best part of the night by far was after the dream ended. With Eli still asleep in the chair, I rummaged in Lance’s desk, found the perfect ink pen for the job, and then snuck into the bedroom portion of the dorm. The pen was a come-and-go pen, the kind you could only buy in a magickind novelty store for a lot of money. Like the name suggested, anything written with it would sometimes be present and sometimes not. A little lever on the side of the pen controlled the charm that designated when the ink would appear. I set it eight hours ahead, about the time I figured Lance would be eating breakfast.

Eli was right about him being a heavy sleeper. Lance didn’t wake once.

* * *

It worked better than I could’ve hoped. The words appeared right as Lance crossed the cafeteria with his tray the next morning, “jackass” written across his forehead. A wave of laughter and finger-pointing followed him. Sitting next to me, Selene was beside herself with glee, her body wracked by huge guffaws. I’d never seen her so happy. As soon as Lance realized what people were laughing about, he immediately looked for me.

I gave him the finger.

An evil smile crossed Lance’s face, and I watched his lips form the words “Game on.”

Despite the chill that swept down my back, I knew this had totally been worth it.

* * *

The rest of Saturday wasn’t nearly so exciting. I spent a good part of it reading through the diary, but Rosemary’s emotional ramblings didn’t provide a lot of clues. All I knew about F was that he was good-looking and liked to go for midnight strolls in secluded places on campus, such as the cemetery and the tunnels. There was nothing to indicate how old he was or which magickind. He could be anybody.

By the time Sunday rolled around, I was so depressed from reading about Rosemary’s dreams and knowing they would never be fulfilled, I was determined to start filling in some of Eli’s suspect graph. I figured I’d read through the diary again and make a time line of when things happened. Maybe there was a pattern to the meetings.

After breakfast, which proved to be much quieter than the day before with no Lance present, I went to the library to find a quiet place to work. Selene did her musmancy homework in the dorm on Sundays, which required her to both sing and play various instruments while she practiced her music magic. I liked listening, but it was impossible to concentrate on anything. The music was too mesmerizing to ignore.

It was the weekend, so I expected to find the library deserted except for the librarian on duty, but when I walked by the row of computer terminals on my way to the study desks in the back, I heard someone typing. I could see the guy’s sneakers underneath the desk but nothing of his face hidden behind the divider in front of the terminal. At least, I assumed it was a guy, given the size of those feet, although you never could tell with magickind.