Chapter 4 Salem
CHAPTER 4
SALEM
The next few days flew and she didn’t even get the time to orient herself.
With the new session came new classes all over the campus, new people wanting introductions before they realized the scandal her name was associated with, and new hierarchies to adhere to. There were already a few who took leadership roles and made cliques that followed them around, a gentle reflection of how they were training themselves for the outside world in a bid for power. Then there were those who stuck to the walls like wallflowers, and those who went quietly under everyone’s radar and minded their own business, wanting no part of playing the game. A lot of others just flowed in between.
Salem stopped in a long hallway, open on one side, that overlooked a small garden, and looked at her reflection in the stained glass window. Stained glass windows were all over the campus, adding the only pops of color in the moody grays and browns. The one before her made her reflection brighter than she was on the inside.
She knew she looked striking on the outside, though her appearance was unusual. She saw it every day in the mirror—the wild, dark curly hair that fell down her back, that she’d tried to keep somewhat tamed in a messy bun which never lasted for more than a few hours. Sun-kissed skin she had inherited from her father’s side of the family, the short, curvy frame she’d inherited from her grandmother. And most of all, the blazing golden eyes that had been a Salazar family trait for generations, a mix of brown and hazel so light that they looked like liquid gold in the sun and glowing topaz in the dark.
Riveting outside, rotting inside.
But weren’t they all rotting, at different speeds and to different degrees?
She continued on her way.
She knew why she was invited into various groups—because she was a curiosity and looked unconventionally pretty—only to be rejected when they found out she was a Salazar. People were curious about her but not enough to risk their families’ reputation by associating with the scandals that had been attached to her family name recently. She was sure things would smoothen out over time and people would move onto the next scandal. She didn’t really care but it was getting on her nerves slowly.
Most students who got into Mortimer were academically excellent, which is what made it more exclusive. Lackluster kids, even if they were legacies like her, were rejected. The university’s reputation was based on merit and the powerful networks formed in the formative years that turned into powerful alliances in the outside world.
That was the reason most students already knew their majors and opted for modules that were selected for them by their advisor. Meeting with the advisor was also a mandatory part of the process, especially in the first year. That was why Salem was entering the small but opulent foyer, waiting for her assigned supervisor to get free from his previous appointment.
She looked out the window, the view from the second floor of the administrative building worth millions. Mortimer was a real estate jackpot. She knew all this because her father had been a real estate mogul once upon a time, and she had heard him talk about properties all her life.
And this? This was a castle worth its weight in gold.
The area that had begun expanding after the main towers were built in the 1500s, the university campus, covered thousands of acres and comprised two main blocks outside of the academic schools—one administrative, that also held the library, and one for student housing for those who were on the lower rung of the social hierarchy, like those with scholarships or those associated with scandals, like herself. Most of the mid and upper end students, along with the faculty and staff, had housing around town, from small cottages to full-blown mansions.
But none of it was as impressive as the location itself. Mortimer, the town, was set atop a small mountain that dipped down into the sea, the last of the land before the churning waters took over. A lighthouse that hadn’t been used in decades and was out of commission sat lonesome on the beach, with an unnamed, smaller mountain beyond it, that had once been home to an extinct volcano.
Truly beautiful, in a grim sort of way.
The castle had seen a lot of history, from being a residential estate to being mostly abandoned except for some areas that were used as a prison, to finally becoming an academic institution. In present day, the entire university was set up in the castle itself, made of gorgeous brown and gray stones and metals, and close to the cliff, offering a spectacular view of the unending sea. It was truly an inspiring, stunning place to be, an opportunity afforded to very few in their lifetime.
The sound of voices and a door opening behind her pulled her up short. She turned to see a student leaving the room, one she recognized from her residential building. They’d seen each other a few times in the common area, and exchanged a polite smile of acknowledgment now.
“Miss Salazar.” Her advisor, Dr. Bayne, an older, portly gentleman who looked like a grandfather from a bygone era, with white hair and handlebar mustache, warm smiles and twinkling grayish eyes, called her in.
Salem stepped inside the small office all done in woods and browns, with the same sea view on one side, a library of books on the other. The smell of old papers and bergamot and jasmine candles permeated the room, the ones she knew a student had gifted him before they left. It was sweet almost.
Dr. Bayne took a seat behind his desk littered with papers. Salem had heard he’d been a brilliant professor before he’d lost his daughter and gone slightly insane with grief. She could relate to that. Perhaps that was the reason she felt a slight affinity toward him. That, and his behavior. The university hadn’t wanted to lose him entirely, so the board brought him on as an advisor to help guide younger students, a job he had been doing very well for almost a decade, if Salem’s sister’s notes about him were to be believed.
Her own weeklong experience with him had been pretty nice so far. He had listened to her, asked her great questions, and guided her to make her choices as she saw fit, never being condescending or indifferent. He seemed genuinely interested in her future, a concept that was very alien to her.
“So, how has the first week been for you?” Dr. Bayne asked, his tone warm and eyes lit up behind his round glasses.
Salem mustered up a smile. “As good as could be expected, I suppose.”
A small frown pinched his brows, deepening the wrinkles beside his eyes. “Are you unhappy with any of the modules?”
She shook her head. “No, they’re great. I’m really enjoying studying it all.” And she was. She had Introduction to Criminology, Introduction to Forensics, Psychology, and an additional class, Victimology, that she’d opted for. In her gap years between high school and undergrad, she had done a yearlong online course for forensic science specifically, so that helped immensely.
“Then what is the problem?”
She didn’t know how to elucidate it. She felt restless. It could be because of the glances she saw her peers give her sometimes, seemingly knowing every single thing about her life and discussing it openly, when they knew nothing. It could be the lack of any of the leads she had come here to find. It could be the lack of news about the body she had found, as though after the discovery, it had disappeared. Had she not taken a picture, she would’ve wondered if she’d made it all up. Or it could be the fact that she had not seen him again, Caz, though she had admittedly looked for him.
After that first introductory class, he’d been absent all week, the desk in the corner empty, almost mocking her the same way his knowing smirk had. She hadn’t seen him around campus either, though admittedly, she hadn’t ventured beyond her classes, the residential block, and BBC each morning.
Maybe it was that.
Or maybe it was the ghost of her sister, with her floating hair and outstretched hand on top of that damned lighthouse, haunting her dreams at night and calling for her.
It could be all of it or none of it. She didn’t know.
She shrugged.
The older man sighed, taking off his glasses. “Look, Miss Salazar. I know the grief of losing loved ones never goes away. Trust me, I know about it.”
Salem knew he did. Everyone on campus knew.
“My advice?” he continued. “Focus on being excellent in your field. I know you’re passionate, which already puts you a step above most students who choose something with logic or a lost sense of purpose. Set a goal in mind and work on that.”
Salem nodded. She did have a goal in mind. “Thank you. I will. That’s why I wanted to talk to you about the Excellency Awards.”
Dr. Bayne went still for a second, then cleared his throat. “The board was going to discontinue them. There hasn’t been an interest in the awards since—”
“Last two years,” Salem interrupted. “I know, Dr. Bayne. But I am interested in the application.”
The sound of silence was loud in the room.
The older man scrutinized her for a long moment. “May I ask why, Miss Salazar?”
Salem kept her face blank, giving a solid reason no one would think to question. “It will restore my family’s name. My application might be met with ridicule, but if I win, some of the tarnish that has come to the Salazar name, at least in the university, will be washed off, even if not completely.”
That sounded almost convincing.
“And it has nothing to do with the fact that your sister had been the last applicant for the award? It was canceled two years ago in her memory.”
Dr. Bayne was a smart man.
“Then it’s only right that my family be the one to continue it,” Sa lem stated. “The award has helped students for centuries, given them incentive to excel, and provided both financial and social standing. Even for those who didn’t win, just having their application accepted was a big deal. It should continue.”
The Excellency Awards were a tradition started centuries ago by the university board to award one student from each school in their field. It was one of the most prestigious laurels someone could get, but beyond that, it came with a trust fund opened by the board in the winner’s name and gave them the opportunity to start their own legacy. Future children of winners would get the same opportunities as someone from a generational legacy family would. That was one of the reasons it was such a popular route for scholarships, new money, and just non-legacies to feel validated.
Dr. Bayne considered her words for another long moment, then nodded. “I’ll talk to the board about it. Are you sure you want to apply? It’s never first-years who do.”
Salem nodded.
“You’ll have to work a very convincing file, Miss Salazar. Do you have a particular project in mind?”
Salem shook her head. “Just an idea. I have been working on something for the last year. It needs more work.”
“Alright.” His tone was speculative. “It can get very competitive, so I’d advise you to prepare a project. We can discuss it later if the board agrees.”
She hoped they would.
Because while her stated reasons for wanting to apply were valid—it would help her family name and reputation for certain—there was another more shrouded reason she hadn’t mentioned to the professor.
In the last ten years, a total of ten students had died at or around the university, ruled out as mostly accidents or suicides. Ten students, including her sister. And setting aside the unnamed girl she had found at the beach, since she had no information about her yet, each of the ten students who had died in the last decade had one thing in common.
They had all applied for the award.
Same award, different points in time.
It was too much of a coincidence for their deaths and the awards not to be connected. So Salem intended to do what she did best—observe, investigate, and conclude—and find out exactly what the hell was happening at this university under everyone’s noses.
Even if she had to put herself right in the middle of it as bait.
It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn.
—Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights