The Mary Shelley Club, Goldy Moldavsky [e ink ebook reader txt] 📗

Dan huffed and began muttering in Spanish to Freddie, but I could only understand a few words. Something about how he was going to dock our pay.

“Yeah, that only works when we’re actually getting paid.” Freddie went over to the doorway and forced his brother’s head out so he could close the door. But just as soon as Dan was gone, I opened it and gestured for Freddie to follow me outside so Thayer couldn’t hear.

“I’m going to stay,” I whispered. “I’m worried about him.”

“I’ll stay with you.”

“Dan might lose it if one of us isn’t down there feeding the animals.”

Freddie nodded. “Okay. Come find me afterward.”

I watched him jog down the stairs. But when I returned, Thayer wasn’t on the couch. A chill blew through the room and I saw that the balcony door was open. Fear seized me as my mind went to the worst place, reeling with visions of Thayer splayed out on the pavement. I rushed to the balcony.

Thayer was standing there, looking out at the street.

When he turned around, I realized he wasn’t as drunk as I’d thought. Or maybe he’d sobered up quickly, because the looseness and laughter were gone. His features had settled in straight, somber lines. I remembered the last time I’d stood there with the rest of the club, trying to catch my breath from laughing so hard at his antics on the street. Now I caught my breath with relief.

I approached Thayer slowly and it made his eyebrows knit together. “Why are you acting like I’m about to jump?” he asked.

Because you spent the night getting drunk and blabbing our secrets and you haven’t been the same since the night at the cabin and I’m worried about you. But I didn’t say any of those things. “Just, please don’t stand so close to the edge.”

But he didn’t budge. In fact, he bent at the waist, hanging over the railing and letting his arms dangle in the air. “It’s one story high, Rachel.”

I was beside him now and peeked over the balcony myself. He was right; we were only on the second floor. If he did go over, he’d barely break an arm, let alone his neck. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to avoid thoughts of Saundra. The way her eyes had stared as she lay on the bed of shattered glass.

I snapped my eyes open to get the picture out of my head. As I looked at Thayer swaying slightly, something occurred to me. “You called me Rachel.”

Thayer had no response. No wisecrack. No smile. He just continued to look out, eyes roving the buildings across the street, the park on the left, the twinkling traffic on the right, but seeing nothing. All I wanted was for him to call me New Girl again.

“Do you know what ended up happening to the first Mary Shelley Club?” he asked. “I mean, the originals, the ones at the villa in Switzerland.”

I shook my head.

“Lord Byron made it to thirty-six. He died fighting a war for Greece. He did better than Percy Shelley, though. He drowned before he even turned thirty. At least they both made it farther than Polidori—who was obviously in love with Byron, by the way. He wrote the seminal vampire book way before Stoker did. He was talented. But he killed himself at twenty-five. Mary made it pretty far. She died in her fifties. But one person from their circle survived them all, living way into her eighties. She kept to herself. Never married. Took jobs as a caretaker and teacher. She was also the only one among them without a creative bone in her body. I doubt she even participated in the game that night.”

“Claire Clairmont.” Mary’s stepsister; lover to Lord Byron and mother of his daughter; and somewhat in love with Mary’s husband, Percy, too. She played a vital role in Mary’s life. But when I’d first read up on her, she was memorable only because she coincidently shared a last name with my best friend. Saundra.

“The F inal Girl,” Thayer said. He placed his hand on the stone balcony and I noticed that his fingernails were pale purple. It brought me back to the present, to this freezing balcony and the party blazing underneath us.

“Why are you telling me this?”

He shrugged. “Just thinking of our group. Which of us is gonna go first. When. How.”

“Thayer.”

“The police are calling it ‘death by misadventure,’” he said.

“People say they saw someone with a mask up there.”

Thayer shot me an unreadable look. “Something was going on with Saundra that night—something was off. I’m going to find out what.”

“Thayer, that’s what I’m trying to do, too,” I said eagerly. “We can help each other.” But when I took a step toward him he shrank away from my touch.

“I’m not some fragile—” he began. “It’s normal, okay? When someone you know dies it’s normal to think about this stuff.”

“I know.”

“I’m taking this seriously, all right?”

“I am, too.”

“Look at where we are.” He spread out his arms, gesturing at both the street and the party. “I’m in a suit at a stupid party like a girl didn’t just die. We’re monsters.”

Thayer shook his head, roughly sweeping a hand over his short hair like he wanted to tear it off his scalp. “I shouldn’t be here right now. And neither should you.”

“I’m only here to check on Bram. I think he had something to do with all of this.”

Thayer looked like he was on the verge of laughing at something that wasn’t funny. “Good luck with that.”

He stepped past me, back into the study, and didn’t stop until he was out the door.

It was now or never. I had to get to Bram’s room and find evidence, a clue, something that would confirm my suspicions about him. But when I left the study, someone was standing in my path.

“What are you doing here?” Bram asked.

“Nothing. I was just leaving.”

“No, stay.” His tone was less than welcoming, but then