Chapter 19
Early the next morning, Sunday, I woke to frantic messages from the library’s group chat:
Margrett: “Emergency meeting at 9 a.m. System meltdown. Everyone come!”
My stomach churned. System meltdown. Must be what they called our infiltration. I rubbed my eyes, dressing in a hurry to show up on time and act clueless.
At the library, Margrett stood in the foyer, arms folded, face grim. A half-dozen staff members and student workers milled around, some looking anxious, others still yawning.
I tried to keep my expression carefully neutral as I joined them.
Margrett addressed us in a tight voice: “Last night, someone accessed our security mainframe and server, resulting in partial data loss and a compromised camera feed. This is a serious breach.”
A hush fell. One staff member whispered, “Who would do that?”
Margrett’s steely gaze flicked around. “We’re cooperating with campus IT to investigate. In the meantime, staff must operate the library with restricted access to records. Everyone is to remain vigilant. If you saw anything suspicious, speak up.”
I forced my best shocked face, raising a trembling hand. “Margrett? Did the cameras catch the intruder?”
She exhaled. “The entire feed was scrambled. Time stamps are missing or replaced with junk data. The system might have been tampered with around eleven p.m. to midnight. We don’t have a name.”
I relaxed internally, so far, no direct evidence pointing to me or Anubis.
Margrett paused, scanning the group. Her gaze snagged on me, eyes narrowing slightly. I felt sweat form on my brow. Stay calm.
But then she moved on, explaining how we’d revert to manual checkouts until further notice. At the end, she released us to our duties.
I spent the rest of the morning helping a trickle of students find books, all while my mind buzzed with the aftermath. The sabotage had worked. The Skulls would be pleased. But at what cost?
That evening, after my classes, I found Anubis in the caretaker’s cottage. He was pacing near the table, worry etched on his face.
“Any sign of trouble?” I asked, sliding off my coat.
He shook his head. “Not from campus security. But the Skulls sure didn’t waste time. Sophie texted me.”
He handed me his phone:
S.M.: “Impressive results. Meet me at the boathouse 2 a.m. Tuesday. Bring your…partner.”
I sank onto the chair. “They want to see us in person. Probably to gloat or give new orders.”
He nodded grimly. “We can’t refuse.”
I rubbed my temples, exhaustion gnawing at me. “We completed the sabotage, but do we have enough evidence to keep going? Because if we keep doing tasks like this, we’re basically criminals.”
Anubis placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “We do it carefully, gather more proof, and stay alive. I know it’s not easy.”
I forced a shaky smile, gleaning comfort from his presence. “Let’s see if the logs I grabbed hold any clues about Toccara.”
He booted up his laptop. I plugged my phone in, transferring the files. We scrolled through the logs: time stamps, user access reports, camera snapshots. Many were corrupted or incomplete, a jumbled puzzle.
Then we found something: a series of scans referencing “Student Incident, 12:47 a.m., River Proximity.” The date matched the night Toccara died. The file included cryptic tags: “Distress,” “Security override,” “Dean’s directive.”
My blood ran cold. “Dean’s directive?” The Dean was Sophie’s mother.
Anubis frowned. “She might have ordered it. Possibly instructing campus security not to record certain footage.”
We kept digging, hearts pounding. The camera snapshots from the relevant time were missing, but a note indicated they had been archived or removed. Another line read: “Scholarship student unidentified on footage near the boathouse. Alert override.”
“That has to be Toccara,” I muttered, scanning the lines in frustration. “She was near the boathouse. But they labeled her unidentified? She was an influencer, face known to half the campus.”
“Which means they intentionally mislabeled her,” Anubis murmured, voice tight. “Someone wanted her presence that night erased.”
A swirl of rage and grief churned in me. “We have to find the rest of these files, any copies, maybe in campus security archives.”
Anubis exhaled, leaning back. “Agreed. We can’t do it tonight. But we keep searching. Eventually, we’ll have enough to blow the lid on this entire operation.”
I rested my head against his shoulder, warring with anger and sorrow. Toccara was gone, but her last steps had been documented and then destroyed. The Skulls, or at least the Dean, had manipulated the official record.
Hold on, Toccara. I vowed silently. I won’t let them get away with it.
Tuesday night, 2 a.m. found us at the boathouse as instructed. The expansive wooden structure glowed with scattered torchlight outside, reflecting on the dark surface of the Edenvane River. I shivered at the memory of the “pauper’s party” fiasco, the police raid, Toccara’s drowning so near this very spot.
A row of black SUVs lined the gravel drive, signaling that senior Skulls or other bigwigs were present. Anubis and I exchanged a tense look before stepping inside.
The lounge echoed with hushed voices. We found Sophie perched on the edge of a barstool, sipping a glass of wine like a queen. Several robed or masked figures lingered around the bar, ignoring the fact it was the middle of the night.
“You’re late,” Sophie said, though it was only 2:02 by my phone’s reckoning.
Anubis’ jaw tightened. “We got here as fast as we could.”
She rolled her eyes, setting down her glass. “You completed the library sabotage. Consider me…impressed.”
I forced myself to remain quiet and let Anubis take the lead.
Sophie gestured to the others, presumably Skulls of higher rank. “We have further instructions for you. Consider it your next step in proving loyalty.”
One of the masked men stepped forward. His voice was deep and scratchy. “You will be assigned to gather intel on a certain professor. We suspect he’s interfering in Skull’s affairs, advocating for transparency in college funds.”
A prickle of alarm ran through me. Some professor was championing financial transparency? That might actually help scholarship students.
Sophie’s expression turned cold. “Professor V. Carlisle. Tenured in economics. He’s slated to present a paper on college endowment ethics. That paper must never see the light of day. We want you to steal his research or sabotage it before he can finalize it.”
“Steal or sabotage?” I blurted, unable to contain my frustration. “Why?”
Sophie’s eyes flashed with warning. “Your job is to obey, not question. Carlisle’s findings threaten the identity of certain…benefactors who support Edenvane. That’s enough reason.”
I bit my tongue, outraged. Another righteous cause being snuffed for the sake of the Skulls’ power.
Anubis drew a measured breath. “Alright. We’ll handle it.”
Sophie slid off the barstool, stepping closer to him and ignoring me. “Yes, you will. Or Thad’s death will be the least of your worries.” Her gaze flicked to me. “Especially for you, Nubia.”
I hated how she used that name, as if I was some pawn. I fought down the urge to retort.
Sophie continued, her tone threatening. “Or we could go with our first plan. Suede can get close to the professor, bed him, ruin his reputation. But seeing how you’re so skilled with coding, Anubis, we thought this might be a quicker option.”
“Of course,” Anubis agreed with her, his lips set in a firm line.
Again, he was protecting me.
The masked man offered a sealed envelope. “Inside you’ll find Carlisle’s office schedule, rumored location of his research notes, and deadlines. You have a week.”
A week. My mind reeled. We’d have to do more subterfuge, ruin a professor’s honest academic work.
“Now leave,” Sophie said with an airy dismissal, swirling her wine. “We’ll expect an update soon.”
Back at the caretaker’s cottage, the envelope’s contents lay spread across the desk: a typed itinerary for Professor Carlisle, rumored to keep a locked briefcase of notes in his faculty office, references to a “digital copy on his personal laptop.”
I massaged my temples, dread gnawing at me. “Every task they give us is more corrupt than the last.”
Anubis’ face was grim. “The Skulls want to ensure Edenvane remains their playground. Carlisle’s research likely exposes shady donations or hush money.”
I shook my head. “He’s probably a good guy trying to fix a broken system. We’d be wrecking his career.”
Anubis nodded, expression torn. “We can’t fully sabotage him if we want to keep our souls. We have to fake it.”
We stared at each other in the lamplight, the weight of these forced betrayals pressing down. I could see the same conflict in his eyes.
“What if we warn him indirectly?” I asked. “Let him stash his real research somewhere safe, while we only steal decoy notes.”
A glimmer of hope passed over Anubis’ features. “That could work if we can contact him discreetly. Or maybe, like with the library infiltration, we stage partial sabotage while letting him proceed in secret.”
“Yes,” I said, latching onto the idea. “We can’t blow our cover by not doing anything. But we can do it carefully, leaving Carlisle a way out.”
Anubis exhaled in relief, pulling me into a loose embrace. “We’ll figure out the details tomorrow. For now, let’s at least try to rest.”
I nodded, though my heart still hammered. Each day, the Skulls twisted us further into complicity. But with the scrap of Toccara’s logs, maybe we were inching closer to justice for her and for Edenvane.
The next morning, I sat in the back corner of a bustling campus cafe, waiting for an opportunity. I’d discovered that Professor Carlisle held open office hours Monday afternoons, but he also frequented this cafe around lunchtime.
Sure enough, he ambled in, a well-dressed man in his late forties with gray at his temples. He ordered a black coffee and sat down to read something on his tablet.
Nerves twisted in my stomach. I needed to warn him, subtly, about the threat. But how? If I approached him as a random student, might it tip the Skulls off?
I summoned my courage, stepping up to his table. “Professor Carlisle?”
He glanced up, polite curiosity in his eyes. “Yes?”
I cleared my throat. “I’m Suede. I was hoping to…ask about your upcoming paper. I’ve heard rumors it challenges the donors behind Edenvane’s endowment.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, studying me. “You’re not in my class. Who told you about that paper?”
I managed a faint smile. “Word gets around. I’m…someone who believes in transparency, especially for scholarships. Could I see your research?”
Carlisle exhaled, leaning back. “It’s not finished. And I’ve encountered…pushback. Why do you ask, Ms. Suede?”
I felt the weight of the Skulls’ threat, the envelope in my bag. Careful. “Look,” I whispered, leaning in. “I don’t want you to get in trouble, but there are powerful people here who won’t let that paper come out unscathed. I’m worried you might face…reprisals.”
Suspicion flickered in his gaze, but also a hint of alarm. “Are you warning me, or threatening me?”
My cheeks heated. “Warning you, sir. Please keep your notes safe. Maybe store them off campus, or have a decoy in case anyone tries to steal them.”
His mouth parted in surprise. “Steal them? My goodness, child, you sound serious.”
I nodded tightly, feeling half his words bristle at me— child . But I had bigger concerns. “I am. I’m just a scholarship student who wants justice. That’s all I can say.”
Carlisle studied me for a long moment, then sipped his coffee. “Very well. Thank you for the heads-up. I’ll…take precautions.”
I gave him a quick nod, then scurried away, heart thudding. I hoped I hadn’t just made everything worse. But I couldn’t sabotage an honest professor without at least giving him a fighting chance.
Three nights later, we put our plan into action. According to Carlisle’s schedule, he left campus by 7 p.m. on Thursdays, rarely returning until the next morning. The perfect window for a break-in that the Skulls demanded we do.
With a stolen passkey, Anubis had a friend in campus facilities who unwittingly “lost” a master key, plus the lock pick set for emergencies, we approached Carlisle’s quiet faculty office.
We wore black hoodies, trying to blend into the dim corridors.
Anubis turned the key softly. “You sure the building’s empty?”
“I walked the halls for the last ten minutes. Didn’t see anyone except maybe a custodian on the first floor.”
The lock clicked. We slipped inside, shutting the door behind us.
Carlisle’s office smelled of coffee and old textbooks. A large desk stood against the window, cluttered with papers, a laptop, a locked briefcase. Bookshelves lined the walls, featuring economic theory tomes and bound journals.
Anubis headed to the briefcase, producing the lock pick kit. “I’ll handle this. You check his laptop.”
I nodded, carefully opening the computer. As planned, Carlisle had left it asleep rather than fully shut down. Password-protected, but I typed a guess: the standard Edenvane staff login. No luck.
Anubis frowned, elbow-deep in picking the briefcase lock. “Try his birth year, or something else. We have a partial profile on him from the envelope.”
I typed in the year Carlisle was rumored to have graduated. To my shock, it worked. He’s either sloppy or has a trick up his sleeve.
The desktop loaded. Dozens of document icons showed up, including a folder labeled “Research FINAL.”
I swallowed. “This must be it.”
With a sinking heart, I copied the entire folder onto a USB drive. We had to show Sophie proof that we’d stolen it, or we’d lose all credibility.
Meanwhile, Anubis popped the briefcase open. Inside, neat stacks of typed notes, annotated references, some charts. He rifled through them quickly, pulling out a handful to wave at me.
“Looks like the real deal. We can take photos as evidence of theft, then put them back,” he whispered.
I nodded, feeling guilty. “Good idea.”
We snapped pictures with Anubis’ phone. But as I scrolled further into Carlisle’s laptop, I spotted a second folder titled “Backup.” The sub-folder was named “In case.”
A flicker of relief. Carlisle had taken precautions, likely storing the real data elsewhere. Perfect.
I left that folder untouched, only grabbing the “Research FINAL” for show. Then we carefully locked the briefcase back up, leaving no sign of tampering.
My phone buzzed, making me jolt. I hissed in annoyance, any noise in a quiet building was risky. Checking the screen, I saw a text from an unknown number:
Unknown : “Skulls watchers spotted in the corridor. Hurry.”
I showed it to Anubis, panic swirling. “Someone’s helping us? Or messing with us?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Either way, we have to go, now.”
We shut Carlisle’s laptop, returning it to standby. Then we slipped out into the hallway. The overhead lights had been dimmed for the night. Footsteps echoed in the distance.
Holding my breath, I followed Anubis down a side stairwell. We heard voices above, muffled but urgent. I couldn’t make out words, but the tone was menacing.
Step by careful step, we crept onto the ground floor. The corridor stretched empty. Another door led outside.
“Come on,” Anubis breathed, guiding me through.
Outside, the crisp night air hit me like a shock. My legs wobbled from adrenaline. We sprinted across the quad, ducking behind a row of hedges. In the distance, I saw two figures in black coats slip into the building we’d just vacated.
A final wave of terror rushed over me. We’d done what the Skulls asked, but watchers might have tried to intercept or confirm our break-in. Maybe that was the real test: to see if we tried to double-cross them.
Once we were back in the caretaker’s cottage, hearts pounding, we reviewed the stolen files. Enough to satisfy Sophie, hopefully. We had the entire folder from Carlisle’s laptop, plus phone photos of his handwritten charts.
Anubis tossed the flash drive onto the table. “We’ll present this at the next Skulls meeting. They can do their own spin. Meanwhile, Carlisle still has his hidden backup. So hopefully, his real research remains intact.”
My limbs trembled. “We’re lying to an organization known for cruelty and secrets. If they catch us…”
His arms wrapped around me from behind. “I know.” He pressed a gentle kiss to my temple. “But it’s the best we can do.”
I sank against him, letting the tension unravel a fraction. “What if that text that warned us was from…Carlisle? Or someone else inside the Skulls who’s secretly on our side?”
Anubis frowned. “Could be. We have no shortage of secrets swirling. We’ll keep an eye on that number.”
Exhausted, we found solace in each other again. The caretaker’s cottage, filled with the hush of night, had become a refuge as we clung to the fragile sense of partnership. Soft murmurs and gentle touches reminded us that amidst the lies and danger, we had a real connection that the Skulls couldn’t fake.