Their room was pretty much like ours. They had posters of action movies, rock bands, and sports teams adorning their walls. A picture of Brent and me at prom stood framed on his dresser. Their beds weren’t made and their desks were pure chaos, of course: papers, schoolbooks, and empty soda cans. A large pile of dirty clothes sat in one corner. Brent was sprawled on his back, propping a textbook on his chest. Steve sat at his desk playing a game on his laptop. He grinned as he noticed me and shoved the window open. A classic rock song played on their sound system and it smelled like an unpleasant mix of Steve’s cologne and beef jerky.
“Hey, Yara,” Steve said, easily detaching their screen. “Come on in.”
“Thanks.” I slid through the window.
“Missed me that much, huh? Can’t say I’m surprised.” Brent released his book, folded his hands behind his head and crossed his ankles as if me stopping by his room happened every day, which it didn’t.
“Oh, get over yourself.” I fought a smile. I plucked his book from his chest. “I came to, um… I need to see the vial.”
Brent immediately sat up. “Why?”
“Just…. I need to make sure he’s still in there.”
“This is about the Alumni House, isn’t it?” Brent rested his elbows on his bent knees.
“Yeah,” I admitted sheepishly.
Brent frowned, but nodded and stood up, heading over to the pile of clothes in the corner. He bent and shoved aside the stack of laundry to reveal a small personal safe, which he carried with him back to his bed.
I scrunched my nose in disgust. “The school year just started. How did your dirty clothes pile already turn into Mount Washmore?”
“Added security,” Steve said proudly, not taking his eyes off whatever was happening on his screen. “No one wants to dig through smelly laundry.”
I stayed silent while Brent opened the lock, and wrung my hands together as he swung the door open. He held the safe out to me.
“Do you want to do the honors?”
I held my breath, reached in, and closed my fingers around the cool cylindrical container.
It looked the same as I remembered it: clear glass with a cork stopper stuck in the top. The inky mist of Thomas’s spirit swirled around inside the tube. Just touching the glass I could feel the darkness of his soul, the kind that would swallow whole any brightness in its path. The vial reflected no light at all, but absorbed it in its tar-like smoke.
“What exactly are you looking for?” Brent asked.
I held the vial up to the light. “I’m not sure,” I said, bringing the glass closer to the light. “I just felt this need to . . . ” I turned toward Brent, my heart suddenly in my throat. “Does this look like it’s cracking to you?”
My shaking hands extended the vial out to Brent. Steve jumped up from his desk, game instantly forgotten, to examine it also. Their eyes narrowed at the fine, spidery cracks in the glass.
“We haven’t been checking it the way we should,” Steve said. “That was a good catch, Yara.”
“He’s trying to break out,” I whispered. Even having suspected something like this, I hadn’t been prepared for the reality of it. Fear ripped open the wounds that had only recently scabbed over. I needed to sit down.
Brent must have understood my emotional upheaval because he pulled me into his arms. I relaxed against his muscled chest, his warmth and strength giving me the comfort I needed.
“Maybe the glass just expanded in the summer heat,” Brent suggested, but he sounded as unsure as I felt. “Do you still have those same herbs that we used in there before?” I nodded. “Good. Tomorrow we’ll go to the science building and get a bigger vial. We’ll put this one inside the bigger one and fill around it with the herbs. I’ll watch it constantly until then. It’ll be okay. I promise.”
“Okay.”
I glanced at the vial in Brent’s hand and half expected to see a pair of glaring green eyes materialize, but the mist continued to swirl around inside the vial the same as it always had. Seeing the vial was supposed to put my anxiety to rest, to make me feel more secure, but it didn’t work. If anything, it made me feel worse. I now had visual confirmation that Thomas was trying to escape.
Brent handed it to Steve, then slid his arm around me. “Come on. I’ll walk you back to your room.”
The full moon lit the campus so well that we could have found our way even without the Victorian lampposts. I snuggled into Brent as we walked, enjoying the breeze and the music of the crickets chirping around us, the only sounds in the quiet night. For a moment, it felt like a romantic midnight stroll and I could almost forget about the evil spirit in Brent’s room. Then another sound joined the crickets and our footsteps.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
At any other time, the sound of footsteps behind us wouldn’t have been cause for alarm, but after curfew, when everyone on campus was supposed to be asleep, it made my breath catch in my throat and brought my feet to a halt. I grabbed onto Brent’s arm and he stopped too. I put my finger to my lips in a shushing motion and tilted my head behind us.
I looked back but found nothing but darkness.
“Yeah, I heard it too,” Brent said.
“Security?” I whispered.
Brent shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
I glanced back once more. A portion of shadow shifted, then stilled, as if in wait. Maybe my paranoia was on high alert after finding the cracks in Thomas’s vial, but my palms grew clammy at the uneasy feeling roaring through me. I swallowed hard and pressed myself closer to Brent, who had taken a step nearer the shadow.
“Don’t be a hero right now,” I begged. “We don’t know who’s out there.”
Brent’s eyes darted between the darkness and me, looking for anything and everything before hurrying us onward. After a few random turns Brent pulled me into an alcove.
“I think we lost them. Let’s wait here and see if they pass by,” Brent whispered, his lips against my ear. The wind rustled by and a tree branch groaned, but other than that, nothing. After a few minutes of straining our ears to hear any movement, we deemed it safe and started again down the walkway. Immediately, the footsteps resumed behind us. Pursued by the sound of labored breathing, we picked up our pace. Brent tightened his grip on my hand and turned us left, navigating us down several paths. Then he darted inside a bush and pulled me in with him.
Branches scraped my skin and caught in my hair as we crouched in the dark, letting the leafy limbs fall in front of us, wrapping us in the smell of freshly-turned earth. My chest heaved and Brent rubbed the small of my back, urging me to calm. The heavy tread of steps slowed and a long shadow stalked right past us. Though the moon was bright, our pursuer hid his features in the shadows, his dark clothes blending with the night. I peeked out between the leaves and held my breath as he passed. I started to climb out, but Brent held me still as another pair of footsteps came from the other direction.
“Did you find the Silva girl?” a husky male voice asked.
Brent’s hand stilled on my back. Someone had been following us. Following me.
“No.” My pursuer responded, his voice high and nasally. “Are you sure she has it?”
They continued walking, their conversation fading out as they moved farther away. I quivered, despite Brent’s warm body huddling close to mine; my trembling had more to do with my pursuers’ words than the chill of the night air. We squatted there until my knees ached and my legs burned. After what felt like hours, Brent motioned for us to climb out. My legs had fallen asleep and I half dragged myself out of the bush.
Brent checked around every corner as we headed back to my room, making certain we’d lost whoever had been following us. He walked me clear up the fire escape to my dorm room window and held me tight for a few heartbeats. Promising to call as soon as he reached his room, he waited until I locked my window before heading back to his dorm.
I pulled an extra blanket over me as I crawled into bed, but it wasn’t enough to sto
p the shaking. Tonight’s encounter hadn’t been random; they had mentioned me by name. They wanted something; they thought I had something, and I had no idea what it was.
Chapter Five
The next afternoon, Brent and I made our way to the new Alumni House. The area looked completely different. A new, wide sidewalk now cut through the groves, allowing people to walk easily from campus to the renovated building. The front portion had been finished, but the scaffolding that wrapped around the back of the building suggested that the construction remained ongoing. The red, steep-gabled roof contrasted sharply with the turquoise sky and white fluffy clouds. Tall, multi-paned windows broke up the expanse of the pink-tinged sandstone exterior. It all appeared welcome and inviting, innocent. But it didn’t fool me. I had no desire to go in there. I fiddled with the button on my sweater as we neared its entrance until Brent captured my hand in his.
“Your hands are sweaty.” Brent let go of my fingers and dried his hands on his black pants. “Are you really that scared?”
“Sort of.”
“Yara, Thomas is trapped, and all the curse victims are free. That building is just a building.” He placed a finger under my chin and lifted my face until I looked him in the eye. “It’s cleared out. It’s sterilized of ghosts. Good conquered evil. The war is over. End of story. Steve already put the vial inside a new one, packed with the herbal stuff. We’re all set.”
“I know.” And I did. “I’m just being stupid. I want to avoid everything that is even remotely linked to the curse this year.”
“And aside from this building, which he no longer haunts, you will.” He let go of my chin and faced the building, taking a deep breath. “It doesn’t even look the same anymore.”
Despite his reassurances, an undefined sense of gloom floated above me like a dark rain cloud. My fingers absently rubbed the hand-shaped bruise still on my wrist. I didn’t want to say it out loud, but the mark only heightened the ominous feeling that death still awaited me, and with the smallest misstep, it would claim me once more.
“It’s not just the building,” I finally admitted. “There were guys following us last night.”
“Yeah. I haven’t forgotten them. But it’s going to be okay.” Brent dropped his forehead so it rested against mine before lowering his lips for a soft kiss. “I love you.”
The anxiety in my soul quieted as I entwined my hands behind his neck. “I love you too.”
He stopped, and pulled away slightly.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing. I just . . . pictured your dad holding that sword.”
I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “Bok, bok,” I teased.
“Shut up,” he said, not meaning it, and pulling me forward. “You weren’t the one at the pointed end of it.” He turned me so I faced the building. “Are you really afraid?”
I looked at the beautiful building. “No, you’re right.”
“See,” Brent said with a grin, as we walked up the front steps. “Nothing to worry about.”
He pulled open the heavy door and motioned for me to go in ahead of him. We stepped into a gorgeous foyer and although I glanced at the reception desk off to the left, my eyes were immediately drawn to the room itself. Sleek leather couches, shining coffee tables, soft lush carpeting, and a baby grand piano occupied the large room. Above a huge fireplace rested a painting of the Pendrell campus. Crystal sconces adorned the walls, a glass chandelier hung from the ceiling, and bright floral arrangements accented the room.
“Can I help you?” a friendly voice asked. A beautiful girl with black hair, maybe a few years older than we were, sat at a plush office chair behind the information desk.
“We’re your interns,” Brent said.
“Brent and Yara?”
“That’s us.”
She smiled warmly. “Hi. I’m Alma. I’m the liaison between the two branches of the Alumni House. Which is a fancy way of saying I’m in charge of making sure everything we kept at the old Alumni House gets here okay. It’s been a slow process.”
“So, where do you want us?” I asked.
“Let me find out where Lesley is. You’ll be working with her.” Alma picked up the phone and pushed a few buttons. “Hi, Lesley. They’re here. Are you free to start training them? Uh-huh . . . okay . . . great. I’ll send them up to you.” She hung up the phone and pointed down the hallway almost directly in front of her. “Down there is a set of stairs. At the top of those, you’ll find Lesley in our records room.”
Brent and I followed her directions and entered a room filled with cardboard boxes and rows of gray filing cabinets.
“Hello?” Brent called.
“Hi.” A woman poked her head out from one of the stacks of boxes, and slowly wound her way through the maze. She had short brown hair styled into a sleek bob. She held up her hands. “I would offer to shake your hands but mine are all dusty. I’m Lesley. Welcome to Pendrell’s records room.”
“Are we going to be organizing this?” I asked, hoping the answer was yes. I loved a good organization project.
Lesley wiped her hands on her black slacks and laughed. “No. That’s my job. I get to file all this away after I digitize it. You’ll be doing the unglamorous, but important job of making copies, collating and filing.”
Lesley showed us to a small adjoining room. The murmuring sound of hushed conversations greeted us. The room contained about a dozen cubicles; most occupied people seated in front of computer screens speaking into headsets, clacking on their keyboards, or doing other mundane office tasks. Lesley guided us to our own pair of adjacent cubicles. She sent Brent to pick up the papers we’d be collating from a man across the room. My eyes followed Brent as he walked away and then scanned the other faces in the room. No one looked familiar, but as I sat down, I caught sight of a face I knew and almost missed my chair.
DJ.
“You!” I started, but cut off the flow of words when he shook his head and kept walking. Lesley had caught sight of him just as I had, and waved him over. She pulled a note out of her pocket, handed it to him, and whispered something into his ear. He nodded, flashed her a grin, and exited the room, all without acknowledging me once. I blinked after him, wondering why he didn’t want to talk.
When Brent returned, Lesley began explaining what we were supposed to do. I tried to focus, but I only caught about half of her instructions. I was too busy trying to figure out the significance of DJ’s headshake. Did he not want Lesley to know we had met? Why not? Did she have something to do with the photos of me? I studied her as she moved between the cubicles. She seemed so nice; it didn’t seem possible for her to be involved in anything sinister. I shook out my tingling wrist before sorting the stack of papers she’d given me, thinking maybe Sophia had pinched a nerve in my hand during our scuffle. I shuffled through my papers and forced thoughts of DJ out of my mind.
v
Aside from my bathroom break, during which I almost got lost searching for DJ, I stayed seated in the padded leather chair for three hours. When four o’clock rolled around, I stood and stretched, letting out a sigh of relief that I was done for the day. I collected my finished folders and put them in the appropriate stacks. On second thought, I picked up Brent’s folders as well, so he wouldn’t be late for cross country practice. He gave me a grateful grin and a kiss on the cheek before hurrying on his way.
I followed him into the hallway, trying to remember where Lesley had said to leave our work at the end of the day. I had been focusing on the DJ situation and only vaguely remembered something about turning left and going down the . . . third hallway to the fourth door? Or was it the fourth hallway and the third door? Not sure which, I decided to try them in order.
Several people were congregated in the hallway, talking by the water cooler. I navigated around them, inhaling the lemon-scented polish the janitor must have used.
The third hallway was short, with several doors branching off into private offices. I tried the fourth door at the ve
ry end. It was ajar and I pushed it open, expecting Lesley’s office. Instead, a blast of warm, unconditioned air hit me and I squinted into the huge, dark space.
“Wrong room,” I murmured to myself.
I turned to go when something clattered to the floor behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw my pencil box lying open with its contents of pens, erasers and number two pencils littered across the floor. I groaned in frustration as I watched my favorite mango-flavored lip gloss roll across the floor and into the darkness. I un-slung my backpack to check it out and found the smallest compartment, which I knew I had zipped up, hanging open. My MP3 player dangled precariously from the open pocket. I grabbed it before it could fall, but lost my grip on the folders, spilling papers into the room.
“Great,” I muttered. My fingers groped the walls, searching until they found the light switch. Yellow fluorescent lights flickered to life. They were old, and several of the bulbs had burned out, leaving the room poorly lit.
The room was as big and high as a basketball court, which maybe it had been. Construction wasn’t finished in this area yet and it seemed to be trying to bridge the gap between the new building and the old. Half the walls were paneled in expensive wood, the other nothing but studs and sheet rock. Plastic tarps hung from walls, two by fours lay heaped in piles next to power drills, saws, and hammers. Bent nails were strewn across the floor, and the chalky smell of dry wall dust lingered in the air.
I stepped in to collect my stuff and the fallen paperwork, the door clicking shut behind me. My mango lip gloss was covered in dust and I brushed it off before shoving it back in my bag. I didn’t bother doing that with the rest of my pencil box stuff. It took almost forty-five minutes to sort the papers into the right folders again. After gathering everything, I reached for the door. It was locked.
I banged loudly, hoping someone would hear me, but no one responded. After a few more futile knocks and one kick for good measure, I rested my back against the door, hoping there was another way out. On the far side of the room, behind a wall of clear plastic sheeting, I spied what looked like a hallway. I wound my way through the stacks of lumber and equipment and pushed aside the plastic curtain that had been protecting the finished wood from the construction mess.