Page 116 of The Bleak Beginning

Sylvester’s smile turns enigmatic. “I told you. Protection for the rest of the night.”

He creates a distraction by stepping out of our small hideaway and calling out to a group of passing students. “Hey, everyone! There’s a stash of flags hidden behind the old oak tree near the library. Better hurry if you want to claim them!”

The students’ eyes light up with excitement, and they dash off in the direction Sylvester indicated. I realize he’s creating a diversion, drawing attention away from us. From me.

Before I can respond, he’s gone, melting into the crowd of revelers as if he was never there. I stand there, my lips still faintly tingling from the kiss, but the sensation feels more like a reminder than anything else. The weight of the missing flag around my ankle somehow feels significant, but it was also a cheap shot. I only have five flags left.

The jerk.

I scan the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of his retreating figure, to cuss him out, but it’s useless. The sea of masked faces and elaborate outfits swirls around me, a kaleidoscope of black and white that makes my head spin. Or maybe that’s just the lingering effect from being kissed.

Shaking my head to clear it, I force myself to focus. This isn’t the time for distractions. I’m here to win, and I’ve just lost valuable ground. I need to regroup and come up with a new strategy.

I make my way to a quieter corner of the courtyard, my hand instinctively reaching down to brush against the remaining flags tied around my ankles. Five left. It’s not game over, but I’m definitely still on the back foot.

As I try to formulate a plan, I hear a commotion nearby. Peering around a hedge, I see a group of students surrounding someone. Their excited whispers reach my ears.

“Did you see that? He just took three flags at once!”

“How did he move so fast?”

“I couldn’t even see his hands!”

I edge closer, careful to stay hidden. Through a gap in the crowd, I catch a glimpse of the center of attention. My pulse spikes, a sharp ache in my chest.

It’s Bishop.

He stands alone, tall and imposing, a triumphant smirk on his face as he twirls a handful of flags around his finger. His eyes,visible through his ornate mask, scan the crowd with predatory intensity.

I duck back behind the hedge and squeeze my back against the building. This is bad. If Bishop is actively hunting flags in this area, I stood no chance. Besides, I basically all but gave one of mine away to Sylvester when I didn’t fight him to keep it.

Crouching further to the ground, I feel something bump my back. I freeze. Slowly, I turn to look behind me, half-expecting to see Bishop looming over me. Instead, I find myself face-to-face with a small, ornate door I hadn’t noticed before. It’s set into the wall of Altair’s main building, partially hidden by overgrown ivy.

Hidden amidst the lush greenery, it was no larger than one of the suitcases I’d brought when I arrived. I’d missed it before, and I’m sure others have too. Without thinking, I reach out and give the handle a gentle tug.

It doesn’t open.

A pang of intuition strikes me as I remember the key Alfie gave me. A voice in my gut screams at me to use it, that it would unlock the unknown door that lies before me.

I glance back at the courtyard. The excitement around Bishop is still ongoing, providing me with the perfect cover. Making a split-second decision, I slip through the bushes and make a dash back to my dorm room.

My bare feet slap against the cold stone as I sprint through the dimly lit pathway. The sounds of the students fade behind me, replaced by the echo of my own ragged breathing. I reach my room in record time, fumbling with the lock before bursting inside.

I make a beeline for my desk, yanking open the top drawer where I’d stashed Alfie’s key. My fingers close around the cool metal, and I clutch it to my chest, allowing myself a moment of relief. Then I’m off again, retracing my steps back to the courtyard.

The game is still in full swing when I return, the air thick with competition. I slink along the edge of the building, keeping to the shadows. Bishop is still there, his predatory gaze sweeping the area. He’s moving with purpose now, stalking through the crowd like a lion among gazelles. Students scatter in his wake, clutching their flags protectively. But I don’t stay to watch. My focus is solely on that hidden door.

I crouch back down behind the hedge. I approach it cautiously, glancing around to ensure no one is watching. The key slides into the lock with surprising ease, and I hold my breath as I turn it. There’s a soft click, and the door swings open.

I hesitate for a moment, peering into the darkness beyond. A cool draft wafts out, carrying with it the musty scent of age and secrets. Whatever lies beyond this door, it has to be better than facing Bishop out here.

With one last glance over my shoulder, I squeeze through the tiny opening, barely managing to fit my shoulders through. The darkness envelops me as I crawl forward, the frigid stone scraping against my hands and knees. The door swings shut behind me with a soft click, plunging me into total blackness.

For a moment, panic seizes me. I’m trapped in an unknown space, with no idea what lies ahead. But I force myself to take a deep breath, willing my racing heart to slow. I’ve come too far to turn back now.

As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I realize I’m in some sort of narrow passageway. The ceiling is low, forcing me to stay on my hands and knees as I inch forward. The air is thick with dust, and I have to stifle a sneeze.

I crawl forward slowly, feeling my way along the rough stone walls. The passage seems to stretch on endlessly, twisting and turning through the bowels of the building. My knees ache from the hard floor, and cobwebs brush against my face, making me shudder.

---