Page 6 of Shadowed Whispers

As I stalk closer, the window rolls down to reveal a flustered older gentleman with a bright red face. “Miss, I do apologize, but?—”

“Tell whatever pompous prick is hiding behind the tinted windows that just because the car has a horn doesn’t mean he should wield it for no fucking reason,” I snap at the old man, who is probably just a driver for some rich kid. In fact, as the old man stammers, I push off the door and glance at the license plate—New York. I should have known.

“Miss, I do apologize, but if you will,” he pleads, pointing at the gate. I know that car in front of me is gone, but the fucker behind me needs to learn a bit of patience. “Move forward, I beg of you.”

“Ah, you work for an asshole.” I shake my head. “We really don’t need another pompous prick at this school,” I tell the man. His eyes nearly bug out of his head. Behind him, I can just make out the shadow of someone moving, and he tilts his head to the side as though listening.

“Miss, sir apologizes,” he insists, a bead of sweat glistening on his brow.

“Sir,” I mimic and walk away, only because my bladder is yelling at me to get on the island and find the nearest restroom and then hit up the coffee shop if it’s open. “Dick,” I mutter, slamming my door a little too hard, and creep forward.

“Frankie.” The gatekeeper leans on his bulky brown arms, the white in his brows giving him a distinguished look.

“Franklin,” I reply, visibly relaxing. He’s like everyone’s grandpa, and he acts like it too.

Laughing, he shakes his head. “Just for the sake of the camera, show me that identification.”

Grabbing it from the seat where I dropped it, I hand it over. Franklin doesn’t even look at it, just says, “It’s move-in day for the out-of-staters.”

Grumbling a few choice curses under my breath, I drag a hand down my face. All it seems to do is smear the sweat over my cheeks and neck. “I forgot.” I yawn, taking my card back. “Freshmen.” I glare in the rearview mirror.

“Some,” Franklin agrees. “From what I’ve heard, there are a few transfers.”

“Really?” I crack my neck and glance at him. The teacher to student ratio is low, assuring everyone succeeds. It’s what I’ve come to love about this place.

“Yeah, a few from overseas. Looks like some people dropped out last year, opening up space,” he states. “Apparently, they snagged a few rich boys for teaching assistants.”

Shadow Locke University only accepts five hundred students at any given time. The number fluctuates between years, so there could be a hundred freshmen, fifty sophomores, and so on.

“There will be more,” I mutter, because by the end of the first semester, at least a dozen students will drop out. Somehow, Shadow Locke, while being one of the more prestigious schools on the East Coast, has one of the highest turnover rates.

I haven’t figured out why yet. It’s all so… excruciatingly normal.

“You working tonight?” Franklin asks just as the vehicle behind us honks again.

I chuckle and throw it into park just to be a dick. “Yeah, why? You and the misses thinking of stopping in for a drink?”

“Nope, just letting you know that the dean put a university curfew into effect.”

“You’re kidding me.” The bridge is the only way on and off the island.

“No, they are having us shut it down at eleven,” he explains.

“Typical.” So much for having a place to sleep tonight. I was so close. “Alright, thanks for the heads-up.”

“Only do it because you’re the only one who doesn’t treat me like the help around here.” Franklin stands up and presses the button to raise the boom. “Welcome home, Frankie.”

I don’t feel welcome, not as I press on the gas and drive onto the bridge, and not as the guy behind me honks once more, probably just to be a dick—just like me, only with a different motivation. I’m here to survive, to get through university and graduate, and maybe do something with myself someday. The guy behind me? They are probably here on Daddy’s dime, here for ragers and beer, and they’ll still graduate and get a better job than me.

I’m not salty at all for my parents noping out of life—not like I blame them. The world is a shithole. I remember the first time I drove over this bridge, catching sight of the university before me, and just how incredibly magical it was to see it that very first time, rising into view as though it sprung from the ocean itself.

I’ve never had a home, not really. My parents died when I was too young to remember them, and after that, I jumped from foster home to foster home, then from shelter to shelter because I turned eighteen during the school year, and there was no way in hell I was spending one more minute in an environment like that.

Shadow Locke University rises from the horizon like a stone sentinel, and just like the first time I saw the monstrous campus, it takes my breath away.

Fog rolls over the bay as the sun warms the ocean, giving the university a hazy appearance. Spires climb through the fog, piercing the sky, and ivy clings to the stone walls, creeping as high as it dares to go.

I never had a home, but if I could, I’d call SLU home. It looks ancient, as though the founders themselves built the university as a cathedral during the darkest years in history. Built by the Knights Templar, it’s stood the test of time, beautiful and ancient with more ghosts walking the halls than most can count. It also has this gothic vibe that contrasts with the crystal clear waters all around the island, and I absolutely love it.

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