Chapter One
The afternoon sunlight poured through the high windows of the art room, bathing my canvas in a warm glow that seemed to ignite the colours on my palette. I paused, sucking on the end of my paintbrush as I studied the shapes I’d sketched out in sienna. It was definitely starting to take shape now and I could probably start adding some colour in the background. I whirled the brush around in the beaker of turps, and blotted it on the rag set there for that purpose. My eyes flicked over the colours on my palette for a few moments, before I dipped my brush in, pulling three colours together to get the shade I wanted. I swiped my brush across the canvas, a streak of pale blue with a touch of lilac interrupting the white space. Although there were four other students in the art room, they were just as absorbed as me and it was quiet except for the music in my earbuds, a perfect backdrop as I worked. It might have only been a couple of weeks since I started at Blackvellyn University, but the art room was quickly becoming my favourite space. After years of painting in my tiny bedroom at home, with bad lighting and no space to spread out, the light airy art room was like a balm to my soul and I was already spending every free minute I could in here. It was nice not having anyone complain about the paint splatters on my clothes either.
When my mother had told me I’d been accepted to the prestigious private university of Blackvellyn on a full scholarship and onto the masters art program, I’d been stunned. She always insisted on keeping me close to home, and hadn’t let me apply for anything other than the local art college, which had been lovely but had never pushed me.
My career choice had always been a bone of contention between us, which was why I’d been shocked she’d sent off an application and my portfolio to Blackvellyn. I wanted a career and she’d always thought I was wasting my time and should be trying to find a rich husband, the thought of which sent chills down my spine. I’d spent enough of my life being controlled by someone who dictated where I went and what I wore.
When other students had been out partying or even just hanging out, I’d been dragged around to salons and beauty pageants. I hadn’t even thought they were a thing in the UK, but apparently they were and my mother was obsessed with making me look and act like a proper lady. I always had to be perfect. We hadn’t had the money to send me to a “proper” school, but she’d trained me herself, making sure my manners and speech were impeccable for her tastes, and my grades had never been allowed to drop below an A. Swimming, gym and yoga had been regimented, and although I knew it kept me strong and healthy, I’d enjoyed slacking off since I’d got here.
I’d never tell her, but I’d eaten burgers and fries at least three times this week, and enjoyed them immensely. I”d run out of money now though. It had been meant for makeup, and I”d spent it on junk food and just skipped the makeup. She”d be horrified. Although she’d finally managed to get me somewhere she thought I could find a suitable husband, it had meant I was no longer under her watchful eye, and I intended to make the most of it for my year here.
“Paige?”
A deep voice next to my ear made me jump and my brush skidded across the canvas, leaving a jagged streak of green where there should have been blue. Cursing softly under my breath, I turned my music down and looked round to see who had interrupted me.
“Oh,I’m so sorry. I did say hello, but I don’t think you heard me over your music.” David Warner, an assistant in the art department, stood next to me, his eyes on my painting. I subtly moved sideways. I liked the guy but he had this weird thing of standing too close. I don”t think he even realised it, but it made me uncomfortable. He didn’t seem to notice.
”Looking good, Paige,” he said with a nod towards my painting. “You happy with it so far?”
I flashed him a grateful smile, setting my brush down for a moment.
”Thanks. Yes, I am actually. It”s still rough, but it”s getting there,” I replied, wiping my hands on my apron. I wasn”t sure how much David knew about art. He”d worked here for nearly ten years apparently, but although he was referred to as an assistant, he was more like a cleaner and maintenance guy, cleaning up after students, and ordering more supplies when we were low. Most of the other students never spoke to him, but he seemed nice and a little lonely, and I always figured it cost nothing to be kind. There wasn”t enough kindness in the world.
”That”s the beauty of art, isn”t it?” David mused, his eyes still on my canvas. ”It”s a journey. A process.” He glanced over at me, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose. ”Speaking of journeys, how are you settling in?”
”I”m good,” I admitted, a genuine smile warming my features. “My dorm is nice, and I”ve made friends with a few girls on the same corridor, so that”s been great.”
”I”m glad you”re finding your place here,” he said, glancing at last week”s canvas. ”And your inspiration. Beautiful use of colours as always. You have a real talent.”
I felt my cheeks warm slightly under the praise. ”Thanks, David. That means a lot.”
David just continued looking at my easel, his expression thoughtful.
”I always feel like I”m seeing through your eyes when I look at your paintings,” David said finally, breaking the silence.
I frowned, looking at my painting. I’d sketched out the forms and the placement, working out the perspective in the golden sienna, and I’d just started filling in the patch of blue sky, but other than that, there wasn’t exactly much on the canvas. It was a strange thing for him to say.
”Uh, thanks,” I said, not sure how to answer that.
“Ok, I’ll stop interrupting your flow and go and check on the other students,” he said, finally stepping back. “See you later, Paige.”
His hand stroked down the small of my back in a goodbye gesture, and I stiffened slightly. I wasn’t used to physical touch. My mother certainly wasn’t the cuddly type and my father was barely at home enough to be a parent. Plus his touch had always made my skin crawl, and had mainly been limited to punishment when I’d upset my mother or when he came home drunk and in a foul mood. Sometimes he’d just needed someone to take it out on, and both me and my mother were fair targets. Friendships had been tricky with my mother’s snobby ways, and boyfriends had been strictly forbidden.
I put it out of my head, and turned my music back up. As the afternoon waned into evening, I lost myself in my painting once again. The strokes became more confident as I filled in the shapes with vibrant shades of colour. The abstract outline slowly formed into a garden scene - a wild one full of bright flowers and overflowing with life - like those you”d find in an old English manor. It was only when I realised I needed more turps, that I looked round to find the art room was empty and the sun was setting outside. I sighed, realising the light was gone and my time was up. At least I”d got the basic shapes and colours down. Tomorrow I could start adding the details and that was what took the time. I’d definitely need the natural light for that though, so I began to pack up, covering my palette, and washing out the brushes.
Once my supplies were tidied away, I unclipped my apron, hanging it neatly by my easel, and washed my hands, scrubbing away most of the oil paints that clung stubbornly to my skin. I looked down at my brown dungarees and rolled my eyes as I saw the tiny splatters of paint in various colours. Then I grinned. My mother would have a fit if she saw me wearing dungarees and the bohemian style top I’d snagged from the local charity shop, but I wasn’t going to get in trouble when she wasn’t even here to see it. She was miles away in London and the designer clothes she’d painstakingly picked out for me were hanging in my wardrobe unworn next to a few finds from charity shops in the town. I finally got to pick my own clothes for the first time in twenty one years, and I was loving it, though I wished I could figure out a way to earn some more money. I”d applied for a couple of bar jobs, but they”d already been snapped up.
My playlist timed out and the silence of the now-deserted art room enveloped me, a stark contrast to the cocoon of music and concentration I”d been wrapped up in all afternoon. I glanced around, noting the fading light, and realised I”d better hurry if I didn”t want to walk back to my dorm in the dark. Blackvellyn wasn’t exactly an urban hub, but I was young and female, and although I had been sheltered through my teens, I was still well aware that attacks could happen anywhere.
I exited the building, hearing the beep as the electronic lock snicked behind me and set off across the university campus. The sun was very low now, casting long shadows and bathing the grounds in a soft, pink hue. Lectures had let out over an hour ago, so the grounds were fairly quiet, with just the odd few people milling around - that peaceful time in between the work day ending and the nightlife beginning. I was yet to actually go out in the evening. My new friend Kate, had invited me a couple of times, but I was enjoying my new chilled out life and getting to binge watch forbidden tv series and eat junk in my pyjamas, so I’d put her off so far. At some point though, I was going to go out, I promised myself.
I was nearing the edge of the campus where the university buildings stood closer together, forming darker alleyways, when a prickling sensation crept up my spine. I stopped, unease flooding over me. The campus was quieter than usual. The usual sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves were oddly muted. Silence hung in the air like a thick fog. I glanced around nervously, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. I continued on my way with a shiver. It was nearly October and I really needed to remember my coat now as the winter season crept in. I rubbed my hands down my arms as I crossed a small square, nodding at a group of students sitting on a bench chatting who waved in my direction, then headed down another narrow street.
Blackvellyn was a beautiful town and university with its hills and dips, and stone buildings,cobbled streets and narrow alleyways, but right now, I”d have been happier with open spaces and bright modern street lamps coming on around me rather than these golden ones. I was halfway down the street when I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I was alone, the path ahead shrouded in darkness. The street lamps lay a good twenty feet away and in between, there was nothing but an ominous void. I swallowed hard, clenching my fist as unease slithered up my spine. I quickened my pace, trying to shake off the feeling of being watched. There was probably no one there. Just a figment of my imagination, fueled by the true crime documentaries Kate had made me watch with her.
I continued on, picking up my pace slightly. The dormitory was just a few buildings away now, its lighted windows promising safety and warmth. As I neared a narrow alleyway between two buildings, the sensation grew stronger. I paused, glancing over my shoulder and scanning the deserted path behind me. Nothing seemed out of place - the darkening shadows were still and silent. Yet, the feeling persisted, a chill creeping up my spine like icy fingers. I looked over my shoulder again, still expecting to see nothing but empty space again. However, this time there was someone there. A figure clad in black, stood there under the lamppost at the corner of the street, his face in shadow.
My heart pounded in my chest and my breath hitched in my throat. A gust of chilling wind blew past, ruffling my hair and dampening my spirits with the scent of approaching winter. It seemed to bring with it an omen of unease. I wrapped my arms around myself for warmth, and also in an attempt to quell the rising terror within me.
I turned back and quickened my pace, the echo of my steps mingling with the erratic beats of my heart. The lights from the dormitory were now tantalisingly close yet so agonisingly far away. An eerie quiet descended around me, broken only by the distant murmur of traffic and occasional bouts of laughter from students returning to their dorms. I glanced back, only to see that the figure had left the circle of light under the lamppost and was heading my way. His tall, broad figure was practically swallowed by the darkness that surrounded him and his face was hidden, adding to the mounting terror that gripped me. He moved steadily towards me, and as he crossed under another light, it lit up his face with a golden glow, revealing a grinning skull.
I swallowed my scream down as I realised it was simply a mask, eerily realistic, but just a mask.
“It”s a bit early for Halloween isn’t it?” I called, hoping he didn’t notice the shakiness in my voice.
He said nothing, those dark eye sockets fixed on me as he walked towards me, and the streetlight glinted off something metallic in his hand. Was that a knife? Fear coursed through my veins. I instinctively took a step back, then another, never taking my eyes off him. He kept advancing, saying nothing, but his gaze followed me. Panic welled up in me, my heart pounding in my chest as adrenaline surged through my veins. I turned on my heels and I ran. The night air whipped past me as I bolted down the cobblestone street, all thoughts abandoned except the primal need to escape the danger. My footsteps echoed around the quiet buildings, each one amplifying my panic further.
I clutched my bag tighter as I sprinted, the art supplies inside jostling with my every movement. The dormitory in sight now was a beacon of safety, a sanctuary from this relentless dread. My breaths came out in short, harsh gasps, ragged and painful as the cold air stung my lungs, but I pushed on.
The sound of his footsteps echoed mine - he’d sped up and he was getting closer. My shaking hands fumbled with the ID card even before I reached the dormitory entrance.
As I neared the entrance, I dared to glance back over my shoulder. The masked figure was still there, closing in fast. Panic surged through me again and a scream lodged in my throat. Ahead, the automatic doors to the dormitory loomed large and inviting, but they seemed to be moving further away with each step I took.
Finally reaching the doors, I swiped my ID card across the panel with trembling hands. The doors slid open with a soft hiss and I tumbled into the warm, well lit lobby, gasping for breath, my heart pounding in my chest. The night watchman at his desk looked up at my sudden entrance.
“Everything ok, miss?”
“There was a guy… following me… outside..” I gasped.
He frowned, standing up and marching over to the doors. He disappeared through them and I leaned against his desk, trying to catch my breath. In a few minutes, the watchman returned, shaking his head.
“Couldn’t see anyone, miss. Can you tell me what he looked like?” He pulled out a notebook and started making a note.
“He was dressed in black,” I said. “He had a black hoodie with the hood pulled up, and he was wearing a skull mask.”
The watchman stopped writing and looked up at me. “A skull mask?”
I nodded.
“Ah, I see.” He closed the notebook and put it away. “Best get back to your room, miss. And take it easy.” His tone had changed completely, from concerned to… well, I wasn’t sure what that was.
“Aren’t you going to write down what I said?” I asked.
He shook his head. “The mask… it’ll just be a prank. Nearly Halloween, isn’t it? Happens every year. You’ll see them a lot around campus.”
“Them?” I asked, my heart starting to return to its normal rate at the thought that it was just a seasonal prank.
He nodded. “The Reapers.”
“Who are the Reapers?”
He sighed. “I’m sure you”ll find out soon. Now, if you”ll excuse me, I need to start my rounds. Have a good evening.”
I felt a shiver of dread as he disappeared into the shadows of the corridor, leaving me alone once again. I hesitated for a moment before making my way to my room, past the rows of identical doors lining the dormitory hallway. What if he was still out there waiting for me? Despite the assurance that it was just a Halloween prank, I couldn”t shake off an unsettling feeling. The masked figure seemed too real, his approach felt too predatory for a simple prank.
As I walked down the corridor, my thoughts began to spiral. What did the watchman mean by ‘Reapers’? And why did he seem so dismissive of them? Was it just some sort of college ghost story designed to freak out the freshmen?
My heart pounded in my chest as I reached my door. I fumbled with my keys, struggling to get the key into the lock with shaking hands. When the door finally swung open, I quickly stepped inside and locked it behind me. For a moment, I just stood there, back pressed against the door, listening for any sounds of movement outside. When none came, I let out a shaky breath of relief but I still checked the windows meticulously before plopping down onto my bed. My heart was still pounding in my chest, but the familiar surroundings brought some comfort.
My mother had decided I’d need ample funds for makeup and shoes while I was at university, so I received a monthly allowance and the first month’s had nearly all gone on charity shop hauls and making my room my very own sanctuary. Some pretty floral art prints, and a muted tie dye bed set brought colour that wasn’t too overwhelming to the bare beige room, and I’d knotted colourful scarves around the metal bedhead with some fairy lights. Right now, though, I felt restless .
I got back up and stuck my head out into the corridor. On the opposite side of the corridor, my new friend Kate’s door stood propped open, heavy metal music blasting through it. I crossed over and stood in the doorway looking into her room. Her taste led more towards a dark rock vibe, and as my eyes fell on the leather jacket chucked on her messy bed, the girl in question came out of the tiny bathroom identical to mine. We might not have been able to afford the swanky student houses on the other side of campus, but we”d managed our own rooms and ensuite bathrooms, which I counted as a major win. Privacy had been non existent growing up,and being able to lock my own door was luxury to me.
“Going out again?” I asked, taking in her little black dress, and the skyscraper black leather heels with silver studs. Her black hair was loose, ringlets tumbling down her back, and her green eyes were ringed with eyeliner making them pop.
She nodded. “Just a few drinks and then probably clubbing afterwards with a few of the girls from my business course.” Her eyes narrowed.”Are you ok? You look pale.”
I nodded. “I’m fine. this weird guy followed me back from the art room wearing this freaky mask and it spooked me, but apparently it’s just a prank these guys pull every year.”
Kate sat down on her bed, putting on dangling silver earrings. “Skull mask?”
“Yes! Don’t tell me you’ve heard of these guys too? Is this a regular thing every halloween?”
She shook her head, her expression becoming serious. “It’s not a prank… Well, it is, but not really. And it’s not just Halloween. It’s the Deadmen’s Club.”
I frowned. “The night watchman guy said they were called Reapers.”
Kate nodded. “It”s the same group. Most students call them the Reapers because of the skull masks, but their real name is the Deadmen’s Club. They’re an elite secret society here on campus.”
I raised my eyebrows. “What, you mean a bunch of Hooray Henrys freaking out the lower classes? And if they’re so secret, how come everyone knows about them?”
“The club isn’t secret, but what they do is. There’s stories of course, but most of them aren’t true. At least, I hope they aren’t. They”re supposed to be into some really dark shit, I’d stay away from them if I were you.”
“Oh, trust me, I’ve had more than enough darkness tonight,” I said, perching on the edge of her dresser and watching her pull her jacket on. “Are you going to be in late then?”
She turned and looked at me appraisingly. “You could come, you know. I didn’t ask cause you always say no, but it would be great to have you along. You can get to know some more people. The girls I’m going with are really nice. Want to come this time? I can wait while you get changed.”
“Really?” I considered it for a moment. I wasn’t sure if I was in the mood, but then, I wasn’t sure I wanted to stay in my room by myself all night.
“You know what, I will. Give me ten minutes. Actually, give me twenty. It’s nearly seven and I need to call my mother, or she worries.”
She didn’t worry, but I didn’t trust her not to show up on my doorstep. I had been allowed away from home on the proviso I called every day at seven, and that I sent her appropriate pictures for the Instagram account she insisted on maintaining for me. Social media wasn’t my thing, but my mother was adamant I needed to keep in touch with my friends from school and college and to demonstrate the life she’d designed was still going on. I swear half my free time was spent staging photos for her. I didn’t care about any of the girls I’d known at school or college. They’d been handpicked by her, daughters of her society friends, and we’d had nothing in common. But I needed to be perfect and to my mother, being popular was perfection. How she intended to make me popular here, I had no idea.
It was actually half an hour later by the time we left the building, Kate tottering on her ridiculous heels, me in lower boots with denim flares and a crochet top that left my back and midriff bare and would have given my straightlaced mother a heart attack if she could see me. My blonde hair hung in loose waves down my back, tickling my skin. I”d like to say it was perfectly styled, but I hadn’t had time for that, and I’d just undone the french braid I’d had it in all day, and Kate had quickly put on a little makeup for me. Some necklaces and bangles and I was ready to go.
Kate had called a taxi and she gave directions as she got into the back. It was only as I climbed into the cab, that I could have sworn I saw the deep sockets of a skull watching us from the darkness of the surrounding trees, but then it was gone, making me wonder if I had just imagined it.