Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
IRIS
I was watching the sunset through the stained-glass windows in the library, the tall glass reflecting coloured light onto the carpets.
I sat at the same small alcove table, tucked deep within the stacks, flicking through study guides and trying to focus.
I liked how quiet it was here at night. A couple of students lingered, heads down to shut out the world, but the library was so large that I felt a sense of peace.
It felt as though there was nobody around for miles.
But that didn’t stop my thoughts from wandering.
It had been four days.
Four days since I’d spoken to him…
Archer.
He’d told me his name. Not Professor Locke… Archer.
My pen kept circling the same line of notes over and over, the text blurring into meaningless smudges of ink.
I couldn’t even remember what I was meant to be revising.
Luckily, it was the weekend, so I didn’t have to see him in class until tomorrow.
That didn’t stop me, however, from seeing him around campus.
This morning, I’d been walking with Adora and Rory towards the breakfast hall when I saw him outside the faculty building, deep in conversation with Headmaster Draven. He looked up and, for the briefest moment, our eyes met.
He didn’t even flinch.
He just kept talking as if nothing had happened. It was impossible to read his expression. Impossible to tell where his thoughts were.
And whether they were even on me at all.
Was it silly to ever think that what had happened meant anything? Professors don’t fall for their students. Maybe I was just being naive and young. But even that thought couldn’t erase the ghost of his breath against my ear. His hands on my skin.
The library clock chimed loudly, pulling me from my thoughts. It was getting late. I slowly started to repack my things, when I heard a faint rustling. I looked around but nothing was there.
‘Hello?’ I called quietly. No response.
Then came the soft pad of footsteps – too light to belong to a human. A flicker of movement caught my eye and my head whipped towards it…
To find two bright green orbs staring at me through the stacks.
‘Boo?’ I whispered, smiling. ‘Damn, you keep making me jump.’ He just blinked at me, unbothered. ‘What are you doing here?’
He padded closer, just out of reach. Then, with the softest meow, he turned and trotted towards the far end of the aisle. After a few seconds he stopped and turned back to me, flicking his tail impatiently.
‘What is it?’ I asked quietly. ‘What’s wrong?’
His green eyes seemed to glow in response. Something about the way he stared – the insistence in his gaze – made me pause.
‘Oh… you want me to follow you?’ I realised.
Another blink.
‘Alright,’ I said, standing. ‘Hold on.’ I quickly finished repacking my belongings and my useless notes, and turned to the small black cat. ‘Come on, then, show me what’s so important.’
Boo weaved effortlessly through the narrow stacks, his black fur almost vanishing in the shadows so perfectly that I nearly lost him a few times.
I followed at a slow pace, but whenever I was taking too long, I’d see a flash of his green eyes and hear a small meow to keep me on track.
He stopped near the back of the library, where the candles and lanterns were fewer, so it was hard to see more than a few metres in front of me. He plopped himself down neatly in front of a large wooden bookcase, his tail wrapping perfectly around his little front paws. He gave a short, sharp meow.
‘What is it?’ I asked. I knelt down to give his soft head a little stroke, and he nuzzled into my palm. ‘What have you come to show me?’
He walked a few inches forwards and rose up on his back legs, placing his front paws on the second-to-bottom shelf.
His little pink nose began sniffing the books there.
With my left hand still stroking his silky fur, my right pulled out a few of the books and placed them in a stack on the floor.
They were basic study guides, by the looks of it.
They were dusty, but ultimately nothing of note.
‘What is it, sweetie?’ He kept sniffing in the same area.
At first I couldn’t see anything, but then Boo pressed his small paw against the wood, and it moved ever so slightly.
It was barely perceptible, but it definitely moved.
‘What was that?’ I said as he plodded a few feet away and sat back down, mission accomplished.
I reached forwards and tapped the back of the shelf.
And it popped out…
It was a false back. And a very good hiding place.
Reaching into the dark of the hidden compartment, I felt around until my fingers enclosed around something.
It was heavy and quite large. Pulling it out was difficult, but when I did, I found it was a stack of paper.
‘Boo?’ I looked around to find him. ‘What is this?’ But he just looked at me.
He tilted his head slightly, purring. Then, slowly, he turned around and disappeared into the shadows.
Clutching the bundle in my hands, I walked over to the nearest lit desk and sat down.
Placing the package on the table, I started rapidly unravelling the string and laying everything out in front of me.
Looking up at me were a mix of newspaper clippings, notes, detailed research… and a dead girl’s face.
A photo of Isobella Way poked out from the mass of articles. It was definitely her – blonde hair, blue eyes, her happy, smiling face.
My pulse quickened as I sifted through the other papers. I spread the clippings across the desk, my fingers trembling as different headlines began to jump out at me.
“High Achieving Scholarship Student At Ashcroft Vanishes Without Trace.”
“Police Continue Search For Missing Student, Age 19.”
“Agony At Ashcroft As Family Pleads For Answers.”
Every article was the same, just with a different photo staring up at me. A mix of different boys, girls, men and women. Most of them were between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five, but some were older – and one I spotted was a six-year-old boy.
There were so many. More than I could count, and some had faded with age so badly I couldn’t even make out the text anymore. My hand involuntarily moved to cover my mouth when I saw one specific clipping – a young-looking boy with a haunted expression – dated 1862.
My eyes drifted to the margins, where handwritten notes were scrawled in a cramped, frantic hand. Circles around dates. Underlined words: “cycle”, “pattern”, “ritual”.
I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Lifting my hand, I rubbed the back of my neck. Shivering, I looked behind me… but nothing was there.
I pushed the clippings aside, breath coming faster now.
The final piece of parchment looked newer than the rest but messy.
Hastily scribbled passages covered the entire page, most of it completely illegible, with some struck through completely, but I could make out certain words and phrases here and there: “body never found”, “ocean”, “chosen”.
However, it was the text at the bottom of the page that had my heart rate galloping…
“Secret society?”
“Sacrifice.”
“Aqua mortuorum.”
“Mor Venit.”
Aqua mortuorum and mor venit. The same phrases I’d seen slashed into the wood on the boat and at the docks. What did they mean? I scanned all the articles again but couldn’t find any translations anywhere.
Whose research was this and why was it hidden?
Huffing out an annoyed breath, I ran my hand over my face. I fished out Isobella’s article from the pile and looked at it again. It had almost been a full year since her disappearance and nobody knew where she was. How was that even possible?
‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered into the darkness.
A whole year that her family had gone without answers. I couldn’t even imagine the pain and suffering they went through… are still going through.
I looked at another clipping – a girl with shoulder-length raven hair, just one year older than me. My eyebrows creased as I noticed the date of disappearance on her article.
Almost exactly four years ago.
I rummaged through the pile and looked at another one – seventeen years ago, exactly.
I grabbed another one – eight years ago, exactly.
A pit seemed to open in my stomach.
Hastily, I began ordering all the clippings.
Isobella Way, followed by a boy, then another, then the girl with raven hair.
I pushed my chair back as I stood suddenly, the wood screeching against the stone floor of the silent library, my body acting before my mind could catch up.
I grabbed the edge of the desk for support when a wave of nausea hit me.
Every single missing person vanished within the same month, almost down to the exact day.
Every. Single. Year.
And the earliest one was dated 1851.
What the hell was going on?
If I were to believe what was right in front of my eyes, it meant someone was going to disappear… and very soon.