Chapter 8
The following day dawned dull and cloudy. My alarm blared at 6:45 a.m., and I fought the urge to hurl my phone across the room. Before class, I had an early shift at the library, though my hours had been cut after the fiasco with my green hair. Glancing in the mirror, I frowned at the color that still refused to wash out. I’d pinned it into a low bun at the nape of my neck, hoping to look somewhat professional for my shift.
Slipping on a simple black turtleneck dress, I grabbed my tote bag and hustled across campus. The library’s glass doors greeted me with an accusing reflection of a tired scholarship student who had barely slept.
Margrett, the head librarian, offered me a curt nod as I walked in. “You’re on the second floor at the circulation desk,” she said, her mouth set in a disapproving line. No mention of Toccara, no mention of the secret society sheep incident, just business as usual. Fine by me.
I spent the morning scanning returned books, chatting politely with students who needed help finding obscure references. My mind remained half-absent, replaying everything from the cottage. Once or twice, I startled when I thought I saw robed figures in my peripheral vision, only to realize it was just students in hoodies.
Margrett told me to take a break. I ventured outside and found a spot beneath the oak trees on the quad, rummaging in my bag for the breakfast sandwich I’d stashed. As I unwrapped it, a crisp voice startled me.
“Is this seat taken?”
I looked up into the face of Sophie Mence, the Dean’s daughter. She was perched gracefully, wearing a perfectly tailored navy blazer, her long blonde hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. The same girl I’d glimpsed stepping off a helicopter at that fancy party, who had draped herself all over Anubis like they were close. A chill raced across my skin.
“Uh, no,” I managed, stowing my immediate suspicion behind forced politeness.
Sophie sat, crossing her legs, and angled her body toward me. “Suede Sara Divore, right?”
Hearing my full name from her lips felt jarring. She extended her hand like we were at a corporate mixer. “I’m Sophie. We’ve never really talked, but I’ve seen you around.”
“I know who you are,” I said, trying not to sound resentful.
She offered a benign, practiced smile. “I heard about your roommate. Toccara, was it? Such a tragedy. I’m sure you’re struggling, especially since the Dean is so strict about rule infractions.” She paused, letting the sympathy soak in. “But you should know, I can be a friend if you need help.”
My mind whirred with the knowledge that she was more than just the Dean’s daughter. Anubis had let slip that Sophie was an important figure in the Skulls’ initiation this year. Possibly the one orchestrating the humiliations that nearly got me expelled.
I forced a neutral smile. “Thanks. I…really appreciate your concern.”
She lowered her voice, leaning in. “Look, Edenvane isn’t always easy for students from less privileged backgrounds. The way some Houses operate can be cutthroat. If you ever feel alone, like no one understands, I’d be happy to advocate for you, maybe lessen your strikes. We can negotiate.”
That last word, negotiate , made me stiffen. I realized it was the same kind of manipulation the ledger described, offer a hand, then demand loyalty. Her glacial blue eyes stared into mine, unwavering, as if daring me to object.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I managed, tucking a strand of green hair behind my ear.
She gave a brisk nod, glancing at her phone. “In fact, how about meeting me for coffee tonight? You know the cafe near the art building? We could chat about your future. I suspect you want to stay at Edenvane, maybe ascend into the real circles of influence, yes?”
Her directness stunned me. She was basically offering me a seat at the table, or at least a chance at one, in exchange for some unspoken favor.
The question hung like a noxious cloud. Ascend into the real circles?
My mind flashed to Anubis’ words: “She wants me to fail.” She wanted me out of the picture so she could claim her place beside him. Or maybe she wanted me close to better control me.
I forced a bright, superficial smile. “Coffee sounds great. Text me the time?”
Her lips curved with satisfaction as we exchanged numbers. “You won’t regret it. I’ll see you then.”
She rose and swept off, the click of her heels echoing across the quad. I watched her stride away with the kind of confidence that came from a lifetime of zero consequences. My appetite vanished.
A wave of anxiety coiled in my gut. Here was the Dean’s daughter, a prospective queen of the Skulls, actively courting me. A part of me wanted to run to Anubis and ask what the hell was going on. Another part of me was tempted to play along, see how far this invitation led, maybe glean more intel that could help me unravel the mystery of Toccara’s death. The truth of the skulls.
My phone buzzed, yanking my attention away from Sophie’s retreating form. A text from an unknown number:
Boat House. 5 PM. Don’t forget.—A.
I swallowed. Had Anubis gotten my number from Sophie? The day was shaping up to be a twisted dance between two powers that might tear me apart if I wasn’t careful.
My break ended quickly, and I hustled back to the library. When my shift ended I went to class, but I only had two classes this day. Grateful for the free afternoon, I decided to pop by the Howler’s office to check in with Harry. If I was going to wade deeper into this fiasco, I should probably keep him informed, at least partially.
The Howler’s office was tucked in the Journalism building, a space that used to be a janitorial closet judging by its cramped size and lingering smell of bleach. The walls were plastered with front pages from decades past, plus random protest flyers, half of them referencing administrative censorship. A couple of staff writers typed away on battered laptops, ignoring me as I slipped inside.
Harry Hadley’s door was open. I found him hunched over a desk, munching on an energy bar while flipping through proofs.
He glanced up. “Suede,” he said, motioning me in. “You have something for me?”
I gently shut the door behind me. “Maybe. I found references that confirm the Skulls are real and connected to powerful alumni. But it’s…risky. People have died.”
Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “Died? You mean Toccara?”
I nodded. “And others. The official line is always suicide or accident, but…” I trailed off. “I’m not ready to go on record with everything yet. It’s bigger than I realized.”
He pressed his lips together. “You know how major this is, right? We’re not just talking about hazing and secret scary initiations. This is a conspiracy that runs deeper. If you think we can break it?”
“Wait,” I said, heart pounding. “I’m nowhere near ready to break it. These people have infinite resources, Harry. I don’t want to be the next one found floating in that river.”
He grimaced. “I get it. But we’re the Howler. Exposing injustice is our job. Let’s do it carefully. See if you can gather evidence we can publish without naming sources. Enough to force some changes or investigations. Get some whistleblowers who can confirm what you’ve found.”
My mind churned. If I tried to blow the whistle right now, I’d be slamming the door on any potential alliances with Anubis. Also, the Skulls would see me as a direct threat. I remembered Sophie’s chilling calm and how easily she might ruin me. She was the Dean’s daughter. My scholarship could evaporate in a heartbeat.
Harry must have noticed my hesitation. He leaned forward. “Look, Suede, I know it’s scary. But we need at least a draft. By next week, we’re running a feature on ‘Edenvane’s Underbelly.’ If you can provide a piece, anonymous if you prefer, touching on the rumored suicides and the clandestine influence, we’ll prime the campus to start asking questions. No direct accusations, but a strong insinuation. Let them feel the heat.”
I swallowed, the weight of it crushing me. A single article could be the spark that sets a wildfire. But if done poorly, it might blow up in my face. “I’ll try,” I said at last. “No guarantees. I’m still not sure I can produce enough proof to avoid it just sounding like tabloid rumors.”
“Rumors are sometimes enough to shake the ground,” Harry said, pulling out a stack of notes. “I’ve started collecting testimonies from a few old faculty who suspect the society still operates. Let’s compare them with anything you dig up.”
I gave a slight nod, mind swirling with a thousand worries. “I have to go meet someone now,” I said, tucking the notes under my arm. “But I’ll be back tomorrow or the next day to show you what I have.”
He gave me a thumbs-up, and I turned on my heel, leaving the cramped office with my heart in my throat. The perfect storm was brewing. I had a 5 PM meeting with Anubis, and a possible coffee date with Sophie. If they got wind I was sharing anything with the Howler, it might be game over.
Still, I couldn’t just bury my head in the sand. Too much was at stake.
I made it to the Boat House right at five, the same guard from the other night waving me in with a quick swipe. The interior was less eerie than at midnight. The staff were tidying up for what looked like a small social event scheduled for the evening. White linens covered half a dozen high-top tables, and silver ice buckets waited for champagne bottles.
I found Anubis in the main lounge, leaning against the bar. He wore a crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, dark slacks hugging his long legs. He seemed lost in thought, swirling a glass of water. When I approached, he offered a weary smile.
“How was your morning?” he asked, voice subdued.
“Eventful,” I muttered, dropping onto the barstool next to him. “I had a surprise visit from Sophie Mence this morning. She wants coffee tonight. Probably to size me up.”
The lines of tension around his eyes deepened. “You should be careful with her. She’s…ambitious.”
I nearly snorted. “That’s a mild way of putting it. She mentioned wanting to help me ‘ascend into real circles of influence.’ She used basically those words. I’m pretty sure it’s a trap.”
He set down his glass with a hollow clank. “She’s the Dean’s favored child. Used to always be around me growing up. Our families have some half-baked arrangement about uniting the lines someday. It’s not official, but it’s implied. She thinks the Skulls revolve around her every whim.”
Jealousy tugged at me, though I tried to hide it. “So, are we talking an arranged marriage?”
He rolled his eyes.
“Well, she’s not subtle about wanting you. I got that much from observing you two at that party.”
“We’ve been over for ages.”
Realizing Sophie was indeed his ex, I inhaled sharply.
Anubis lifted his gaze, searching my face. “Let me guess. You plan to keep your coffee date with her?”
“I think it’s best if I do. She might reveal something that can help me figure out who’s behind Toccara’s death. And if I refuse, it might raise more suspicion.”
He nodded slowly, drumming his fingers on the bar. “Alright. But let me show you something first.”
He led me through a side corridor, past a locked door labeled Authorized Personnel Only . Slipping a key card from his pocket, he swiped it over a panel. A beep, a click, and we entered a short hallway that sloped downward. The air cooled, carrying a faint earthy smell.
At the end of that hallway was a solid metal door. Anubis tapped another code into a keypad. The door slid open with a mechanical hiss, revealing a hidden annex.
Inside, I found a minimalistic space: cement floors, overhead fluorescent lights, and locked metal cabinets lining each wall. It looked like a small-scale records room. My pulse quickened. Another hidden trove?
Anubis crossed to one cabinet and unlocked it. Sliding the door aside, he revealed rows of black files, each labeled with a name. I recognized some as prominent campus personalities—Board members, star professors, major donors. Then my heart skipped a beat when I saw Toccara’s name on a thin, brand-new file. Next to it was my own. My breath seized.
“This is a subset of the Skulls’ ongoing surveillance,” Anubis explained grimly. “They keep tabs on prospective members or threats. It’s updated more frequently than the caretaker’s cottage. I only have partial access. Sophie has the other half. If you see your name here, it means you’re on their radar.”
He slid my file free. I stared at it, half-paralyzed. DIVORE, SUEDE S.—1ST YEAR—LOTTERY was typed on the tab. He handed it to me, and I opened it with trembling fingers. The first page was a campus photo of me carrying that humiliating trash bag on move-in day, my hair still mousy brown. I felt a flush of anger. There were typed notes beneath:
Socioeconomic status: Low. Mother: Ambrosia Whipple (28 at child’s birth), no paternal info. Potential vulnerabilities: High. Reclusive personality post-incident at age 15…
I cringed. They’d documented so much, and it continued:
Academic performance: High, watch for scholarship renewal. Potential for “compliance” if guided. Displayed loyalty or passivity in prior bullying scenario (see attached).
My cheeks burned. Memories of high school, where I’d tried to keep my head down, flooded back. The attached note was a summary of that humiliating day Anubis had marked me in a most violating way. I clenched my jaw.
“God, they’re thorough,” I whispered shakily, flipping pages. They even had a section titled “Emotional Triggers”—stuff about my insecurities, speculation about how to manipulate them. It took everything in me to recall he claimed to be a victim in this as well.
Then he spoke, reminding me further. “It’s all documented, ya know? Everything I did to you back then. So, they can blackmail me for the rest of my life.”
“But if I’m in the Skulls too, how will that work?”
“That’s why they want you. Someone with nothing. No offense. That they can control. Who they can call upon to bring me down when needed.”
“That’s horrible. I’m so sorry,” I said, reaching out to touch his arm.
Anubis looked more angry than anything. “Enough about me.”
I glanced at Toccara’s file, which Anubis had placed on the table. “Did you read hers?”
He nodded, a somber cast to his eyes. “There are a few lines about her influencer business deals. She was approached by an unnamed sponsor that might be connected to a shell corporation under the Skulls’ domain. Probably they used that to reel her in.” He gestured for me to check it out.
I skimmed Toccara’s file, my throat tight.
Primary assets: Social media reach. Potential infiltration point for brand expansions. Recruit under ‘House of Circe’ or redirect if uncooperative.
Status: Behavior erratic prior to official engagement. Last known contact with.
Most of it was redacted. My eyes blurred with tears. She’d been manipulated, lured, and possibly threatened. I forced myself to swallow. “So that’s how it happened,” I said hoarsely. “She was too independent, so they decided she was a threat.”
Anubis put a hand on my shoulder. The quiet in the annex was deafening. “Now you see why Sophie’s invitation is not just coffee. She’s sizing you up, either to bring you deeper into the fold or to set you up for a fall. Don’t let your guard down.”
I closed the file, raging inside at the invasion of privacy. “Is there anything else? Any clue who authored these notes?”
He gave a slow shake of his head. “It’s a group effort. The seniors add to them. The officers sign off. The top brass, like my father, rarely handle the details, but it’s all done under their blessing. If I had to guess, Sophie is one of the prime movers for the current initiations, so she probably has a lot of input.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. The entire campus seemed like a chessboard, and I was a pawn in a game I barely understood. But a spark of determination flared in me. If I was a pawn, maybe I could still cause checkmate from the inside.
I replaced the files, hands shaking, and Anubis locked the cabinet. We stood in tense silence, the overhead lights buzzing softly. Then he turned to me, resting a hand lightly at my waist. Our eyes met in the sterile brightness.
“You know I’m not innocent in all this,” he said quietly, a flicker of regret in his expression. “A lot has been done in my name. And I’ve made mistakes.”
I studied him, recalling how from the very start he’d left me whiplashed, kind one moment, cruel the next. But here, in this hidden corridor, he seemed disarmingly raw, almost desperate to be understood.
“I appreciate you showing me the files,” I managed. “It’s better to know the truth.”
“I’m supposed to show you, Nubia. That’s part of it. You need to believe this is real.”
“Why would they want me to know?”
“Why would they not? You say something, you’ll float. Just like Toccara. Besides, there are cameras here. I’m supposed to give them more to hold over me.”
“What do you mean?” I asked him, suddenly feeling weary.
Anubis didn’t say a word as his hands rushed me, going under my shirt. He was attacking me, all over me all at once, so much that it startled me. Taking what he wanted as his body ground against mine. “Get on your knees, Nubia,” he demanded, pushing me down to the ground.
Before I knew it, I kneeled before him, as he unzipped his pants and took out his stiff erection.
I opened my mouth to protest but instantly got a mouth full of his big cock. His fingers twisted in my hair, daring me to move, as he jutted his hips.
“I told you that you’d hate me,” Anubis breathed as his dick hit the back of my throat slipping further, gagging me for a moment.
His grasp on me and onslaught only grew until hot liquid filled my throat.
Once he was finished, his cock slipped out of my mouth. A groan escaped me. Half turned on but mostly repulsed, angry.
Anubis groaned out a reply as he reached down and helped me to my trembling feet. Studying me, his eyes flitted all over my face, searching for something. Then he brushed a thumb across my bottom lip. “That’s a good girl, Nubia,” he purred with a smirk.