Page 64 of Endless Anger
No one even seems to notice, in fact, that anything is amiss. Multiple killers waltz around campus freely, living their lives the same as everyone else, and not a soul bats an eye.
Granted, I suppose it’s possible they’re unaware of the crime that has taken place, but still.
Students seem to care more aboutmypresence than they do the absence of a peer, which I find unnerving. Not because I’m unfamiliar with the level of scrutiny but because it shouldn’t be so commonplace that someone goes missing.
Yet the archives and encyclopedias in the Obeliskos tell another story—one filled with disappearances, unexplained suicides, and that goddamn curse.
If you want to believe that bullshit.
I think higher education is just corrupt in general, and there are certain places where malice breeds well. Schools like Avernia, who pride themselves on prestige and elitism and then use the exclusivity as a weapon to keep students quiet.
Even outside their strange desire to eliminate a supposedly cursed bloodline, it’s clear this university hasmanypockets of darkness, all waiting for the chance to consume the people.
Not that it matters. I’m not sticking around here long enough to give a shit about how Avernia treats its student body.
Just one student’s body in particular.
It takes all my effort not to stalk into Lucy’s dorm room and keep an eye on her when she gets back from breakfast with Aurora, but I have other things to do. I already spent the night listening to her pace a hole in the floor from the hall; maybe now that she’s had some normalcy in her routine, she’ll be able to calm down.
That logic is how I force myself to leave her, anyway.
When I get to the quarry, I’m only half surprised to find it sparkling and spotless. After a party like the one from last night, I’d have expected a certain level of cleanup, but this feels like overkill.
The Primordial Forest itself is no less intimidating during the day; dense eastern hemlock and American beech trees surround the campus on all sides, so thick it’s impossible to know how deep they run before you hit alpine terrain.
Deep enough that you start to feel lost the minute you step foot within.
Goose bumps prick along my arms as I remember the first time I entered them. What changed within me when I left.
I find what I’m looking for behind the half-burnt gazebo a ways off from the quarry. A wooden lockbox with some matches, small tools, and an envelope stuffed full of dirty, wrinkled papers.
When Foxe and I showed up yesterday, I ducked out after he was accosted by a couple of naive freshmen, stashing the wooden storage piece where I could access it later.
An hour before the Curators started their party, putting some sinister plan into action, I was already out here.
Cleaning up my own mess.
“You’re late.”
Carefully placing the envelope back in the box, I close and lock it. Slowly, I turn around and come face-to-face with Muna—the bartender from Lethe’s. Her dark brown skin shines with a glittery bronzer in the sunlight, the long, pleated skirt she wears swishing as she approaches.
She clutches a tan satchel to her chest, and at her side is a broad-shouldered redhead with a ponytail and heavily freckled face.
I glance between them, settling on her familiarity, though I’m certain she doesn’t remember ever meeting me. “We said three.”
“It’s three-oh-five,” Muna states, her gaze falling to the box behind me. “If you’re trying to bury a time capsule here, you’ll need to submit a formal request to the Student Initiative Board as well as the Fury Hill Historical Society. There is a lot of paperwork involved with?—”
“Muna,” the redhead interjects, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Why don’t you let the guy explain what he’s doing before you start lecturing him?”
She rolls her eyes. “Are you seriously suggesting I ask questions after he’s violated school and city policy? God, Tiernan, at least pretend you know me. We’ve only been on the Curators governing body for the last three years together.”
“Right, I forget you want to be queen of Mars one day. I guess a policy violation would get in the way of that.”
“Mars isn’t—” Muna cuts herself off, holding her hands up in mock surrender. She looks at me again, rolling her shoulders. “Anyway. Are you ready for the grand tour?”
My head already aches. “What’s so grand about it?”
She cocks her head. “Well… You’re only standing on the property of one of the greatest schools in the country. Maybe even the world. I think the better question would be whatisn’tgrand about it?”
