Chapter 9
August 21, 1984
San Francisco, CA
Sunlight shimmered over the pavement outside the Else Bellows Institute.
Cass stood in front of her new home, a backpack slung over one shoulder, an overnight bag dangling from her other hand. Her head was tipped back, her brown eyes fixed upward.
The oppressive summer heat was full of sound, despite the quiet neighborhood around her. Cars driving past. Birds darting overhead. Laughter from two gangly-limbed boys on bicycles. But Cass barely heard any of it—she gazed at the archway looming above her, searching for some kind of engraving or plaque. There weren’t any letters along the surface or down the pillars, no names or school motto. This would’ve struck Cass as strange, if it weren’t for the contract she’d just signed. A copy of it was shoved in her bag, and it contained words like discretion and caution and exclusive.
Basically, it was a nice way of saying, Keep your mouth shut about us.
Once, Cass would’ve balked at the thought of signing something like that. She started to, when the welcome packet came in the mail and she first found the contract. But then Cass remembered the look on Gavin’s face after she’d lost it in front of all his friends.
With that haunting image at the forefront of her mind, Cass had silently gone to the drawer closest to the phone, where her mom kept the pens, and took one out.
Cass mentally pushed the memory away, blinking as she lowered her head and refocused. In front of her, the gates were wide open, like a beckoning hand. The dirt path between them was too narrow for a car. It wasn’t long, either. Through the archway, Cass could see where the path ended, and the courtyard surrounding it. People filled the space, some of them holding books, others carrying bags and backpacks, like her. They were clearly finished for the day, because some of the students were waving goodbye, and others streamed through wide doorways leading away from the bright, busy square. Cass knew she should probably go find Old Main, where she’d been told to check in, but she couldn’t seem to bring herself to take that first step forward.
Back home, Cass thought suddenly, her family would be getting ready for dinner. She could picture Gavin’s bent head as he set the table. The pink frills of her dad’s apron that said, Don’t worry, it’s better than it looks! The serious twist to her mom’s mouth as she washed dishes, or looked over their homework, or opened the mail. The house would be bathed in yellow, or pink, or whatever color was pouring through the patio doors and the window over the sink. But this warm image wasn’t Cass’s last memory of them.
She’d said goodbye at the airport.
She remembered each moment vividly. Getting into the seat her mother would usually occupy. Watching the neighbors’ houses move past. Pulling up to the curb.
As Cass had undone her seatbelt at Albany International, she realized how scared she was to leave them. She’d been away from her family before, but this time was different. Her mom had never stayed behind before. Although they’d barely spoken since the fight, Cass really thought she would come.
Cass knew the feeling would only get worse if they drew this out. She turned her face away, pretending to be distracted by everything happening beyond the window.
“Is it okay if I go inside alone?” she asked.
“Cass,” her father started. He stopped, though. Maybe he’d heard something in her carefully neutral voice, or saw something in the line of her shoulders. Or maybe he just didn’t know what to say. In the backseat, Cal and Gavin didn’t say anything, either. Seconds ticked by, thick and stilted.
In the end, their dad got out of the car. Cass and Cal followed suit, but Gavin stayed where he was. Somewhere else in the neighborhood, a stereo turned on, and “Time After Time” floated through the sun-dappled air. Silas took Cass’s bags out of the back and shut the door.
Cass reached for her bags. Just as her fingers wrapped around the straps, her dad hugged her. She was so startled that she didn’t try to avoid it, which was what she’d been doing since the accident. Today, Cass couldn’t bring herself to. She squeezed her eyes shut for an instant, allowing herself to find comfort in her father’s familiar laundry detergent scent.
As if he knew one second was all he’d get, Silas pressed a kiss to her temple and pulled back. “Give us a call tomorrow,” he said. “We want to hear how your first day goes.”
She didn’t nod, or tell him she would. Cass tended to break her promises, and she’d already let her dad down so many times. So she just mustered a hollow smile, secretly committing every detail of his face to her memory. Then she turned and stepped back onto the sidewalk. Cass had expected to see Gavin standing there, but he was still in the car. She set her bags down and bent so she could see his face. Her fingers curled around the edge of the door.
“I’ll see you at Christmas,” Cass ventured. But Gavin kept his gaze forward, and a pause swelled between them.
Cass glanced over at Cal, and a look of pleading flitted across her face. He just looked back at her, expressionless. What should I say? Cass mouthed to him. But Cal didn’t help her.
She let out a soundless, frustrated breath as she turned back to the boy in the car. Just like she’d done with her dad, Cass studied him. It felt like she hadn’t looked at Gavin—really looked at him—in such a long time.
Her younger brother had the Ryan hair, which fell into his eyes in bright, silken strands, but their mother’s long, solemn nose. There was the faintest sprinkle of freckles over his nose Cass had never noticed before. And what was that in his hands, a book? Was he reading for school, or because he actually liked doing it? She didn’t know him, Cass realized, startled by the thought. She’d never tried to, because she was always wrapped up in her own bullshit.
“Yeah, okay,” Gavin mumbled, finally responding to her. When had his voice gotten so deep?
Cass hesitated again. She thought about what her former self would’ve done, but apparently she hadn’t interacted much with Gavin back then, either. After another moment, Cass reached forward and gave his shoulder a soft touch. “Hey… I’m sorry I ruined your birthday,” she said.
At last, Gavin turned his head. As their gazes met, some of the tightness in Cass’s chest eased. He had their eyes, she thought. Hers and Cal’s. They had at least one thing in common.
“Earth to Cassie. Hey. You okay?”
Cal’s voice brought Cass back to the present. Her twin stood beside her on the sidewalk, and though Cass knew he must’ve hated saying goodbye to their family, he wore an easy grin. His bright hair fell into his eyes and his hands were shoved in his pockets, elbows hanging loosely at his sides. He’d never looked more like his old self.
And it was all an act.
“I need to find Old Main,” Cass said, averting her gaze. “Maybe you should wait here so no one sees you. No ghosts allowed, remember?”
“Crane didn’t know I was there,” Cal pointed out. “If anyone does see me, I’ll just act like a normal student.”
“Fine.” For once, Cass didn’t argue. She could feel Cal’s eyes on her, and the pressure she imagined against her skin was enough to finally force herself forward. Together, the two of them passed beneath the empty archway, and they fully entered the Else Bellows Institute.
The building was easy enough to find—it was the one at the end of the path. Cass didn’t slow down to look at the campus, or pause to meet any of her new classmates. She could still feel Cal watching her, so she kept her focus on that distant doorway. Cass went up the stairs without hesitation, her boots squeaking, then grasped the long handle of a huge wooden door.
Inside, a lobby split off into three different hallways. Cass found a plaque that read, ADMISSIONS, and didn’t let herself pause at this door, either. She walked up to the desk where another girl sat, her hair gathered into a side ponytail, braces gleaming on her big, square teeth. A fan hummed in the corner, sending halfhearted gusts of air through an elegant room. Armchairs lined the walls, which were covered in a patterned green wallpaper, and an enormous window peered out at the courtyard. A palm tree swayed near the glass, its leaves partially obscuring the view.
“Here to check in,” Cass said, shouldering her bag. Cal drew to a stop beside her, but the girl didn’t so much as glance in his direction. Instead, she pulled a clipboard out and looked up at Cass with a polite expression.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Cass Ryan.”
“I’ll let the headmistress know you’re here,” the girl said, picking up a phone in front of her.
A whisper of apprehension went through Cass. It didn’t seem like a good sign that she hadn’t even started her classes and she was already getting sought out by the headmistress. But her tone was nonchalant as she replied, “The headmistress?”
“She likes to greet every new student personally.” The girl offered Cass a fleeting, distracted smile before someone picked up on the other end. As Side Pony spoke in a low murmur, Cass darted a glance at Cal. His answering grin was more reassuring, and something inside Cass settled at the same moment Side Pony hung up the phone and refocused on her. “She’ll be out in a couple minutes. Feel free to take a seat.”
Cal made a soft sound of amusement at this. Cass was already nodding and moving away from the desk, but she didn’t sit—she paced. Every so often, she looked toward the door. Side Pony watched for a few seconds, probably trying to decide whether she should say something. If Cal could have, he would’ve told her not to bother. As if she’d heard him anyway, Side Pony put her head down and started writing.
Cass was still pacing when the door finally opened. The headmistress walked in, and as she turned, Cass’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
It was Sally Crane.
“Miss Ryan, there you are. I was starting to get worried.” Crane handed a manila folder to Side Pony before she faced Cass, her hands folded in front of her. Today she wore a plaid peplum blazer and a black skirt that revealed surprisingly muscled legs.
“My flight was delayed. You didn’t tell me you were the headmistress,” Cass said bluntly.
Crane matched her tone. “I prefer to meet our prospective students before formally making an offer. My role here was not relevant to your decision. Now, I had planned to give you a tour of the campus upon your arrival, but you must be tired. Why don’t I take you to your house, and one of the other students can give you a tour tomorrow, once you’ve had a chance to rest?”
Apparently the question was rhetorical, because Crane nodded at the girl behind the desk and turned away, moving to open the door for Cass.
They left the office together. Crane’s heels clipped against the floor, the tiles gleaming in colors of twilight. The headmistress spoke as they walked. “Else Bellows was the first of its kind. Our founder, Professor Else, is the reason parapsychology is now so widely accepted. Voyants have numerous options now when it comes to their education, but students still come here from all over the world and the waiting list is extensive.”
Voyants, Cass knew, also thanks to the welcome packet, was the official name for what they were. Cal still called them ghost hunters, of course. He claimed it sounded cooler.
The three of them left Old Main and went down the steps. This time, Cass let herself scan the campus. It was nearing sunset. Burnt sunlight streamed through the treetops and across the grounds, shining on the students lounging on the grass. Studying them, Cass finally felt the first stirrings of curiosity. “Is anyone else starting this week?” she asked.
“Oh, goodness, yes.” Crane turned right, starting down a path that hugged the length of a lecture hall, and Cass followed suit. Cal walked behind them. “Voyants are reborn every single day, so new students arrive every semester. You’ll be meeting some of them in a few moments.”
A nervous flutter went through Cass. Seeking a distraction, she allowed herself to look more closely at some of the other students as they passed. Since she’d started seeing things, she had learned to keep her eyes down or her head bent. But here, she reminded herself, there were no ghosts. A small rush of relief went through her, and for the first time in months, some of that pressure in her eased up. Just a little.
Her peers were different from the ones at her old school. Not all of them were young—to Cass’s surprise, she spotted several gray heads and lined faces. There was also a wide variety of skin color, styles, and languages. As they passed, she heard Spanish, French, and what she thought might be Mandarin.
There was one thing every single person in the courtyard had in common, though.
“Why does everyone have a pin?” Cass asked Crane, who had been walking beside her silently.
The gold pieces gleamed everywhere. On backpacks, shirtfronts, collars. Some of them were too far away to make out details, but others, Cass could see. She spotted one in the shape of a small tree, and another was a bird.
“It’s a matter of pride, displaying which house you belong to,” the headmistress told Cass. “There are five. House Airweaver, House Pennyseeker, House Dreamwalker, House Timekeeper, and House Shadowripper. I myself hail from House Timekeeper. We’re here.”
Crane halted, turning, and Cass did the same. She followed the older woman’s gaze. When Cass registered this was where she’d be staying, she felt another flutter inside her, as if something fragile and small were waking up.
“Not bad, Cassie,” she heard Cal murmur.
Cass had lived in the dorms at Wayne State. These dorms—or whatever fancy name they had for them here—were nothing like them. It was a house. A huge house made of red brick, with bright lampposts on either side of the door. The winding path leading up to it was framed by tall hedges, and those same hedges grew along the edge of the yard, hiding the lower floor from view. Over the top of the hedge, Cass caught a glimpse of a trellis, ivy growing around its edges.
It was beautiful.
“Welcome to House Wayside, Miss Ryan,” Crane said, starting up the path.
Cass hurried to catch up, feeling like a child. “Wayside?”
“It isn’t officially one of the five” was all the headmistress said. They reached the door. Crane rapped on it, and Cass swore that even her knuckles sounded crisp and reserved.
“I’m going to take a look around the neighborhood,” Cal said abruptly, making Cass jump. She was so startled that she actually turned to him, but then Cal added, “I’ll be back later.”
With that, he turned and went back the way they’d come, walking in that easy lope of his. Cass didn’t have time to glare at his retreating back, because she heard the groan of a door opening. She spun back around just as Crane said, “Ah, Miss Pritchett, excellent.”
A girl stood in the doorway. Cass guessed she was eighteen, at most. She had frizzy, ash-brown hair and round cheeks covered in freckles. Round-rimmed glasses were perched on the end of her nose. As Cass watched, she pushed them back up. The girl’s curvy shape was hidden in baggy overalls and a thick, orange sweater.
Crane gestured between them. “Finch Pritchett, meet your new housemate, Cassandra Ryan. Cassandra is joining us from New York.”
Finch beamed. She thrust out her hand, and there was a thick drawl in her voice as she said, “It’s nice to meet you, Cassandra.”
“Just call me Cass,” Cass said. She shook the girl’s hand briefly, then grasped the strap of her backpack tightly.
“I will leave you in Miss Pritchett’s capable hands,” the headmistress said. She nodded at Cass. “I look forward to see what we can accomplish together, Miss Ryan. Please don’t hesitate to let me know if there’s anything you need.”
Cass just nodded back, her face inscrutable. “Thanks.”
Crane turned away and clipped back down the path. Barely a second had gone by when Finch said, “Well, come on in. Do you need help with your bags?”
“No, I got it.” Cass mustered a tight smile. She could hear Teresa in her head, urging Cass to be friendly, even when her instincts urged her to remain apart. To avoid connections, or feeling.
Apparently it was all the encouragement Finch needed, because her chatter filled Cass’s ear while she moved inside. “Your room is upstairs,” she said. “I picked it out. I thought you’d like it because of the windows, and the big closet. It’s pretty far from the downstairs bathroom, but since we share it with the boys, I figured that wasn’t a bad thing. We’re still waiting for someone to fix the one upstairs.”
Finch closed the door, and the girls entered a high-ceilinged room. In front of them stood a wide, gleaming staircase made of dark wood. Through a doorway to their right, Cass saw a dining room table. A chandelier hung overhead, its yellow glow bouncing off the dangling crystals. It seemed to shine a spotlight directly onto the lone girl sitting there. She had short hair, cut around her ears, and her small frame was drowning in an oversized black sweater. There was a textbook splayed before her, and she wrote in a notebook. Finch paused just outside the doorway, inclining her head toward the girl at the table.
“Cass, this is one of our roommates, Tammy Price. Tammy, meet Cass Ryan.”
Dark eyes went to Cass. “I’m not going to remember that.”
Tammy went back to writing, and Finch gave Cass a reassuring smile. “Don’t mind her. She just always says the first thing that comes to her head.”
They went up the staircase and continued down another hallway, this one with a much lower ceiling. A railing divided the hallway from the entryway they’d just come from, and some of the rails had been carved to look like vines and flowers. To their left, there were so many more doors than Cass had expected. Were all of these rooms occupied?
“How many people live here?” she asked Finch.
“With you here, that makes six. But most of the other houses have over fifty. Well, except House Shadowripper, because they’re so rare—there’s only five of them. There’s only eighteen in the entire world, I think. Isn’t that crazy? Oh, I should’ve asked. Are you hungry, or do you want to go straight to bed?”
After such a long day of traveling, going straight to bed sounded better than Cass wanted to admit. “I’m pretty tired,” she said.
“Bed it is.” Finch flashed another smile. Cass couldn’t quite bring herself to return it, but she found herself thinking Finch was more tolerable than most people she met.
The next room they passed was obviously occupied—light poured out from the crack beneath the door. Finch’s voice lowered. “That’s Candice’s room. You won’t see her very often. She doesn’t like to come out, except for classes and mealtimes.”
Music floated through the door, faint and muffled. “Is she listening to an opera?” Cass said.
A shadow flitted across Finch’s face, like a cloud passing over the sun. They kept walking. “Yes,” Finch said. “She never turns it off. She used to be a singer, you know. But then, last year, Candice got in a car accident. She hit her throat on the steering wheel, and it caused vocal cord paralysis. Now Candice mostly communicates with a chalkboard she wears around her neck.”
The accident must’ve been Candice’s NDE, Cass thought, feeling another pang of resentment toward them. The ghosts. Logically, she knew it wasn’t their fault. But she still blamed them.
The girls kept going. Floorboards creaked underfoot, the sound long and loud, despite the thick rug softening their footsteps. Gold-framed paintings hung on the paneled walls, all of them portraits of solemn-faced strangers. Every lamp and table they passed had faded edges or outdated designs.
It made Cass nervous, seeing how old the house was. She’d learned to avoid places like this. Dead people were everywhere, but especially in spots with lots of history behind them. Once, she’d made the mistake of going into a gas station. A very old gas station, as it turned out. Every corner had been full of pain and terror. Cass had practically run back outside, pale and shaking.
“Have you ever seen a ghost—” Cass started.
“Oh, gracious, never refer to them as ‘ghosts’. We call them revenants, apparitions, elementals, echoes, or traces.” Finch ticked them off on her fingers. “If Headmistress Crane heard you, she would’ve docked points from you. She hates that word. ‘Spirits’, too. Oh, and we’re not mediums or psychics—we refer to ourselves as voyants or percipients.”
“Have you ever seen a revenant on campus?” Cass amended, hiding a flash of annoyance.
“Sometimes,” Finch admitted. “It’s rare, but when it does happen, it’s usually at the start of a new semester. New students come in, and sometimes they have a revenant attached to them. Once in a while, a revenant just wanders in from off campus. They can be drawn by noise and a lot of activity.”
“Attached to them?” Cass felt like a parrot, but she couldn’t help it. For the first time in months, she was actually curious about something.
Finch led them up another staircase, this one narrower and tucked against the side of the house. They arrived at the end of another hallway. How big was this place? Cass wondered.
“Yes. Didn’t your welcome packet mention it?” Finch asked. Another rhetorical question, because she was already going on. “It’s easy to get a revenant attached to you, especially when you’re new. All you have to do is pay attention to them, or acknowledge them in some way, and bam. You’ve got a shadow.
“Here we are,” Finch declared. “Your room. For now, at least.”
She opened a door and stepped back, smiling so wide that Cass caught herself wondering if Finch had smoked something before this little tour. And whether she’d be willing to share.
Then she saw her room, and Cass’s mind went quiet.
She liked it. The walls were covered in a pattern that reminded her of the admissions office, and it made Cass imagine gardens or forests. Most of the furniture was more old, solid wood—the dresser, the night stand, the desk and chair. The bed frame was black. The size was narrow, but it looked firm. The school had supplied sheets and blankets, neatly-made. There were two wide windows, and the one closest to the bed was open. A breeze stirred the long curtains. Through them, Cass saw a brick wall that must’ve been another part of the house. She turned, curious what the view would be through the other window.
A jolt of terror wracked her when she realized there was someone standing next to the glass.
It was the ghost from Cass’s hospital room.