Page 13 of The Last De Loughrey Dynasty

Lessy.

She was smiling widely, clinging to him like he was her lifeline.

How is it possible that she committed suicide right after this photo was taken? It didn’t make sense—none of this made any sense.

How could I have dreamed of her death when I didn’t even know her or Christopher?

Feeling my pulse roaring in my ears, I read the caption of the old picture.

May Day at Aquila Hall on May 1st, 1970. Christopher Campton, Lisa Miller, Julia Hughes and Alessandra Alderidge.

The nineteen seventies.

Lessy was a nickname for Alessandra, and she was an Alderidge—just like Maisie.

With shaky hands, I opened another tab and typed in her full name, but all that popped up were images of Amelia Alessandra Alderidge. She must be Maisie’s mother.

I scrolled and scrolled until I found another picture of the original Alessandra at a Christmas ball the school held. She sported an elegant green gown, and her brown hair was parted at the sides. The resemblance between her and Maisie was obvious. Both of them had the same set of dark eyes and the smile of a dreamer.

Under the image were a few others related to her.

One of them was a funeral.

The students of Aquila Hall mourn the loss of classmate Alessandra Alderidge after a tragic accident on May Day.

Accident? This hadn’t been an accident. She’d jumped off that balcony of her own free will.

Another tab.Alessandra Alderidge accident.

This time, an article from the local newspaper of Owley appeared.

Aquila Hall had been celebrating May Day with their students playing games and giving those who can’t be with their lovedones a day worth remembering. Sadly, the activities took a tragic turn when Alessandra Alderidge, a sixteen-year-old student at the school, stumbled and took a fatal fall from the fourth floor of the building.

They ruled her suicide as an accident… or was I the one in the wrong? But all the things I’d seen that matched up—the names, the clothes, the people I’d never seen before in my life.

All of this couldn’t be a coincidence.

I knew that Owley was a small town located twenty minutes from the school because I’d been told that, on weekends, I’m allowed to leave campus and visit the town for whatever reason I liked.

This weekend, I’ll need to speak to someone who has access to the truth. There must be a police station where everything is documented. This has to be some kind of lie to avoid scaring parents—or something.

I needed to know if, all this time, my dreams weren’t just dreams.

Maisie returnedfour minutes before curfew to our room, and as soon as I heard her outside, I sat up on my bed.

I had stayed in the library until the sun had set, and then I had spent the rest of the evening waiting for my roommate. I had tried to read about people who claimed to be mediums–people who communicate with the dead. Maybe my mind hadn’t worked against me my entire life. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way to explain that I wasn’t imagining everything, that I wasn’t crazy.

But everything I had found online, I couldn’t relate to. I barely ever heard them talk. In fact, I’d never heard a single voice before I stepped foot into this place.

The door opened, and I caught a glimpse of Maisie kissing Nathaniel goodbye before she closed the door, smiling behind her.

“Hi, Doe!” She grinned at me as she made her way to her wardrobe. “Would you mind if Nathaniel ever slept over? We won’t do anything. I promise we won’t fool around. It’s just that… I’ve been alone in this room for almost two years, and he’s spent most nights with me,” she explained, taking out the pyjamas she had tucked into her wardrobe this morning after she’d dressed.

I shook my head. “I don’t mind, as long as he stops looking at me like he’s out for my head,” I teased, and Maisie chuckled.

“Don’t worry, he’s as harmless as a fly. Nathaniel just went through a lot. He has trust issues, and you’re new, and he doesn’t know whether he should consider you a threat or otherwise.”

I noticed. Nathaniel’s blue eyes were glaring holes into me every time I spoke to his girl.

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