Chapter 2
Two
Blair
I was climbing the stairway to hell.
All that was missing was funeral music.
Water soaked through my clothes as I walked up the slick steps. Each one felt like a warning that I didn’t belong here.
When I looked up, Saint Vale University towered above like a cathedral. It resembled a castle with its stone walls more than a university. Darkness wrapped around it like a cloak as it reached toward the sky. Stained glass windows glowed from each floor.
There wasn’t another soul outside.
At least not one I could see.
What I felt was a different story.
A prickle curled up my spine like smoke as I scanned the darkness.
Someone was watching me. I felt it.
Like a predator, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
I shook off the thought of getting murdered and kept climbing. The closer I got to the top, the tighter my stomach knotted.
Once I reached the vestibule, it’d be official. I’d be a student at Saint Vale University. My third university in four years.
My stepfather had made it clear: Saint Vale was my last chance. If I screwed up here, I was done.
Since I’d never heard of the university, I’d immediately pulled out my phone and researched it, doing a deep dive into its history and rumors.
Royalty, politicians, drug lords, and tech gods all sent their heirs to Saint Vale for its security and privacy.
Private donors and tuition fully funded the university.
It took nothing from the government, which meant no government eyes were allowed in.
The last official who had pushed for oversight vanished.
Saint Vale sat on the edge of Westchester, New York, surrounded by dense forests and towering stone walls that looked centuries old. The kind of walls meant to keep people out or trap them inside. The trees were so thick that they nearly swallowed the entire campus.
The entire place screamed isolation, money, and secrets.
I’d already witnessed how seriously they took security measures when we arrived.
Guards carrying rifles stood beneath the black wrought-iron entrance, engraved with the university’s crest. They checked our IDs, scanned our fingerprints, and searched every inch of my luggage before even allowing us entry.
When we made it through the gate, it was like I’d crossed into another world.
How my stepfather had gotten me accepted here was beyond me. I was sure his checkbook helped, but I was far from a model student. My academic record had more negative comments than a politician’s Facebook profile.
By the time I reached the arched entrance, I was drenched, and my thighs ached. I stepped beneath the stone shelter, and my vision blurred from the rainwater running down my face.
Black iron sconces glowed on each side of the doorway, supplying me with enough light to admire the baroque carvings etched into the stone. I ran my finger over the winding vines, roses, serpents, and gargoyles.
The university crest was on the iron double doors. A shield framed a raven, tangled with two serpents. One serpent’s jaw hung open, fangs bared, while the raven’s beak and wings were stained dark with carved streaks of blood.
“That’s not creepy at all,” I muttered before pushing them open.
They groaned as I entered and slowly shut behind me. My jaw dropped as I took in the empty expanse in front of me. The interior matched the exterior’s Gothic style.
It radiated wealth from every angle. Marble floors and tall ceilings. Ornate moldings climbed the walls like ivy. It bled with old money. New money. All money.
A massive staircase loomed at the center of the hall, splitting into two sweeping wings as it reached the second floor and repeated with the third. Thick stone columns held up the vaulted ceilings high above me. Shadowy archways stretched down the corridors that disappeared into darkness.
Saint Vale was beautiful but felt almost dead inside.
Water dripped from me as I looked around. I froze when I heard the click of heels against the floor.
My gaze lifted to a woman in a black pantsuit—very Hilary Banks—walking toward me. As she grew closer, I noticed the university’s crest pinned neatly to her blazer.
She stopped in front of me and didn’t smile or frown. Her face remained completely still.
“Hi, I’m Blair.” I awkwardly smiled. “I’m new.” I peered down, noticing a small puddle forming around my black loafers.
“Yes, Blair Dupont,” she said, irritation clear in her tone. “I’m Headmaster Arisono.”
I smiled again. This one just as awkward and strained.
She clutched a folder with the university crest pressed against her chest. “I’ll escort you to your dorm. You’re in a double.”
I dragged my luggage behind me, groaning as we headed toward more stairs. My arms and legs throbbed as I forced myself up the next flight.
“All classes start at seven sharp,” she said as we climbed the steps, handing me a folder and staring at me sternly.
“Your schedule and a campus map are inside. I run this school by the three strikes rule and have very little tolerance for unruliness. I consider it a headache. A source of wrinkles I won’t risk. ”
I nodded, shifting my suitcase to the other hand to hold the folder.
Fortunately for my arms, we stopped on the second floor and turned right. I followed her down a narrow corridor. No harsh overhead lighting here. That was at least a plus for my migraines.
Arisono stopped at a door inscribed with Poenas Dare Hall.
My Latin wasn’t perfect, but I understood enough.
To pay the penalty.
Just lovely. My dorm’s theme was apparently retribution.
Arisono pushed the door open, revealing a quiet hall lined with six doors, evenly spaced along the walls. We passed one before stopping at room 205, and my palms turned clammy.
The door was completely bare.
No posters, pictures, or decorations, like the dorms at my other schools.
I gripped my luggage tight as Arisono knocked.
Seconds passed before the door swung open, brightening the hall. A skinny blond girl stood there, wearing a black satin nightgown and fluffy pink slippers. Her green eyes darted nervously between Arisono and me.
“Headmaster?” she asked, trying to hide her irritation.
“Daphne, this is your new roommate, Blair.” Arisono nudged me forward.
Without another word, she turned and left us.
The smile I gave Daphne felt just as stiff and forced as the ones I’d given Arisono.
Now that Arisono was gone, Daphne looked less annoyed and waved me inside. I rolled my suitcase behind me and shut the door. The room smelled strongly of sage, as if we’d interrupted an exorcism.
I wrinkled my nose at the smell while taking in the room.
I’d never seen such a lavish dorm. Though the spawn of the elite probably didn’t sleep in standard dorms.
I never saw myself as part of the elite. Nor would anyone else.
Maybe that was because I never had money growing up. It was my mother’s husband, who she didn’t become involved with until I was older, who paid for everything now.
Also, most people didn’t even know I existed. I was the secret she kept hidden. The one who threatened to expose her past.
The beds sat on opposite sides of the room, nestled into cherrywood alcoves beneath sculpted archways.
Each alcove had its own window and chandelier above the bed.
Maroon curtains draped in front of the alcoves, the option to draw them across the opening for privacy, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves framed each side.
The room also had two long desks, two dressers, a vanity, and a private bathroom.
It didn’t take long to figure out which side belonged to Daphne. Except for the pile of clothes dumped on my bed, my side was empty.
The space felt just as dark as the rest of the university.
But there was a sense of comfort, like I could be me here.
Could lose myself in books and my studies in that alcove.
“I swear, I’m not a bitch,” Daphne blurted.
Her upbeat voice made me flinch, and I looked toward her.
“Arisono’s late-night dorm visits usually mean someone’s about to get expelled.” She grabbed the bundle of sage and blew it out. “I was a tad freaked because my mom would literally kill me if I got kicked out. I’m already on Arisono’s shit list.”
She tossed the sage in an ashtray and padded across the room. “She could’ve at least given me a heads-up that I was getting a new roommate. I would’ve taken my things off your bed.”
I shuffled aside as she swept the clothes off my bed and dumped them into a basket.
“And excuse the mess,” she rambled. “I’ve had the room to myself since Clarissa fell out of that stupid window.”
My gaze moved from the window to the bed. “She fell out of the window?”
Daphne dropped the basket on the Persian rug, kicking it away with her slipper, and muttered, “Technically, yes.”
“How does one technically fall out of a window?” I tossed my suitcase onto the bed, hoping I wasn’t the one coming off like a bitch.
I clutched my stomach; the thought of sleeping in a dead girl’s bed sounded as appealing as being burned alive. That new piece of information just made this place even creepier.
“Ugh, blame it on Enzo’s crazy ass.” She collapsed onto her bed and hung upside down while digging through a drawer beneath it. When she resurfaced, she held a bottle of tequila. She released a breath while untwisting the cap and took a long swallow without even flinching.
I dragged my fingers through the wet knots in my hair. “Who’s Enzo?”
“He’s …” She frowned, searching for the right word. Failing to find one, she took another drink. “Just to let you know, I didn’t push Clarissa. I’m a great roommate.” She pointed the bottle at me. “I was voted Best Roommate at my boarding school.” A proud smile hit her lips. “You’re in good hands.”
Her need to clarify that didn’t calm me.
If anything, it did the opposite.