Chapter 6
Sadie
Chuck Fairchild appraises me from his aged leather chair. “How are you holding up, Sadie? This past week must’ve been difficult for you.”
“I’m fine,” I say, fidgeting with the books in my lap.
The college arranged this counseling session with the student advisor. Chuck seems highly compassionate and so eager to help. I almost feel bad that I don’t feel worse.
“You went to Parker’s funeral yesterday?” he asks. “I thought I saw you there with Juliette and Clara.”
I nod. “I wasn’t sure if I should go, since I didn’t know him. But I went, yes.”
The service was somber and grand. Parker’s father looked right through the various VIPs shaking his hand and murmuring condolences.
Lucan was a silent presence, his brow set and stare distant. Madox and Reeve hardly left his side, fending off photographers and mourners who tried to command his attention for too long. That surprised me. For vile entities, they did seem supportive of their friend.
“Always nice to pay your respects.” Chuck taps a pen against his palm. “Witnessing a murder on your first day at Darkbloom though. I’m so very sorry that’s been your experience.”
“I didn’t actually witness much.”
Chuck clears his throat, his mouth turning down at the edges. “Rather an understatement, I should think.”
“I meant, I mostly saw the aftermath, not the murder itself. What happened to Parker was awful. But you don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine, I swear.”
“Sure. Sure. It’s just, you don’t strike me as someone who asks for help. I’d hate to see you fall between the cracks here at Darkbloom. Forgive my concern, and tell me if I’m wrong?”
My eyes stray to the clock on Chuck’s office wall. Classes start today. If I don’t leave soon, I’ll be late for my first.
“I appreciate it, I really do, but people have been asking me for details all week.” A note of pleading enters my voice. “Keeping it fresh in my memory isn’t helping. Now that semester has properly begun, I want to focus on studying.”
He digests my words, his head nodding slightly. “That can be wise, yes. Throw yourself into your passion. It’s why you’re here, after all.”
Sensing him relent, I slip my bag strap over my shoulder. “Absolutely.”
Chuck regards me for several more moments, while I resist the impulse to say I’m fine again.
Finally, he stands to open the door for me. “Very well. If you need to discuss the events of that night or if you remember anything, please let me know. I can come with you to give a police statement next time. I don’t like that the detectives hauled you to the station without a chaperone.”
“Okay. I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”
There’s nothing else to remember because I didn’t see anything else. I wish I had, so I could help the case.
Chuck leans in the doorway, staring after me while I rush off to find my classroom.
I round a corner into the correct hallway and scan the room numbers. As I count under my breath, I realize I just passed my room.
Glancing at the time on my phone, I whirl around and collide with a very solid human being who definitely wasn’t there a second ago. The books in my arms tumble to the floor in a heap.
Even if I couldn’t see Lucan Hale—and he’s impossible to miss with my nose nearly touching his broad chest—I would know it’s him by the way my body electrifies with alarm.
He stands in the middle of the hallway like he owns the place, students weaving around him. The glare he gives me is derisive, despite the fact that he plainly blocked my path on purpose.
“First day’s always rough,” he says in a dangerous voice that makes my ribs contract.
My eyes track the students entering my classroom, wishing to be one of them.
Scowling, I step back. “So is running into you.”
His eyes glitter with cruelty. “In the forest, you seemed to enjoy rough.”
“Asshole,” I mutter.
To hide my flushed face, I bend to pick up my scattered books.
All week, I’ve tried to avoid him, yet he’s haunted me like a surly shadow.
Juliette and Clara have stayed with me as much as possible, not giving him a chance to catch me alone. We figure he wants to find out if I gave evidence against him to the police.
Everyone agrees that Lucan probably killed Parker, including me.
If he did, we all know he’ll get away with it though. His father will make sure of that. The best I can do is stay away from him.
I’m also petrified about what he said right before vanishing into the forest.
Why aren’t you wearing it?
I want to know if he was talking about the locket, but demanding answers feels risky.
I’m safe here in front of my classroom though. Even he can’t hurt me in public.
“I enjoyed nothing. Don’t flatter yourself, Lucan.” With my books in my arms, I stand straight. “You’re talking about the night your cousin lost his life. You know that, right? Why does everyone care about his death more than you do?”
His energy shifts like someone flipped a switch, his usual smug aloofness replaced by a lethal venom. Anger radiates from him like ice from a snowstorm.
My flicker of daring evaporates.
Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything about Parker. Maybe Lucan will hurt me for mentioning the crime.
His jaw and nostrils twitch, like he’s on the verge of defending himself or maybe denying it.
But then he shakes his head and looks away, exhaling hard through his nose like he’s disgusted.
As I sidestep around him, believing he’s done taunting me for now, his hand lashes out. He snatches my notebook from the top of my book pile.
“Hey!” I say. “Give that to me.”
I try to take the book from him, but he whips it behind his back.
My shoulders sag, because I know I’ll never be able to wrestle it from him.
“Lucan, please.” I put out my hand. “I have to get to class.”
The hallway empties as the last students file into their rooms. I imagine my professor inside, putting a black mark next to my name.
His eyes narrow. “Say that again.”
“I have to go!”
“No,” he says slowly, dragging out the vowel. “The other thing.”
“What?” I huff. “Lucan, please.”
His eyes glimmer with something darkly primal, like when he held me against the tree. “Begging suits you.”
“You’re disgusting.”
He brings my notebook to the front of his body. I make another grab for it, but he holds it away from me.
To my utter horror, he opens to a page and reads one of my poems aloud.
Anger and frustration bubble in me, tightening my throat. I want to kill him. Actually kill him.
He recites the verse in a monotone, making it sound as soulless as he is.
“I was not made for gentle seasons.
The wind, my enemy, recites my faded fables.
It tears through my ribs each winter
hungry for the small bright sliver I hid like summer’s finest sin
and never tasted again.”
While his focus is on the page, I make another desperate swipe at the notebook. He flicks it beyond my reach without even looking up.
When he finishes reading, he arches a brow at me. “What does that mean? What’s the wind got to do with anything?”
I gesture at the door, my face burning.
“Do you want to learn about prose?” I ask sarcastically. “Because come on in. The class has already started, asshole.”
Lucan’s quiet for several moments, during which I question whether he was making fun of me or genuinely asking.
He had to be making fun of me, right?
“Forget it then.” He shoves the notebook into my arms. “I’m a business major. I’ve got a planet to run.”
His pure audacity shocks me into laughter.
“Wow,” I say. “Your inflated sense of self is unreal.”
Suddenly it’s like I’m wasting his time, not the other way around. With a bored look on his face, he turns and walks down the hallway.
“Did you send it to me?” I call out.
I’m ashamed that I only have the guts to ask him about the locket as he’s walking away.
But I get no answer. He doesn’t even look back.
“See you tonight, Sadie,” he says.
My lungs ache with tension.
Tonight? What’s he talking about?
He’s definitely going to snap my neck like a tree branch.
Worse? I’m officially late for my first class.
Bracing for the professor’s wrath, I turn the creaking door handle and enter the room.
Seven faces turn to look at me. Six students and the professor are seated at the polished mahogany table.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, pulling out a chair and sinking into it.
The professor inclines his head in acknowledgment.
He wears a neat tweed suit and his dark hair is graying at the temples. His frown lines are deep, like he spends endless hours buried in challenging books.
Professor Patrick Worthington. I’ve read all about him, as well as plenty of his work. He’s meant to be a brilliant teacher.
And I’ve just shown up late, like a student who lacks respect for his time. Ugh. It’s even worse because I’m on a scholarship.
“You were occupied by none other than Lucan Hale, the Prince of Darkbloom.” The professor is English, his accent strong and proper. “Far be it from us to take precedence.”
My fingernails dig into my palms.
Is he being sarcastic in a friendly way or a nasty way? Jittery from my encounter with said Prince of Darkbloom, I can’t tell. The English accent doesn’t help either.
But the other students smile easily at me, as does the professor.
Cautiously, I exhale.
“We’re just getting to know each other,” says the professor. “This isn’t middle school. You won’t be rapped over the knuckles for being late. It’s your education.”
My education, being paid for by the college.
If I want anyone to take me seriously, I need to apply myself beyond expectations. Arriving on time is the least I can do.
“It won’t happen again,” I say, praying Lucan won’t make a liar out of me.
“I’m Professor Worthington,” he says. “And you are?”
“Sadie Marlowe.”
“Ah.” He looks at me speculatively while I try not to squirm. “Yes, I read your submissions. Rather good. But very… safe.”
My throat goes dry. “Safe?”
“Indeed. You’re talented, Miss Marlowe. You’ve had a few stories published, won a few prizes. But so what? Plenty of people are talented. It’s frightfully common. Do you know what I saw in your stories?”
“No, Professor?”
“A girl stunted and afraid. You must get out into the world. Experience life. Grow. Take risks. I expect more from you on the page. Oodles more.”
“I understand,” I say.
Stunted and afraid? God, maybe that’s true.
After everything that happened with Mom and Russell, my life shrank and shrank. Keeping to myself felt safer. I shied away from going out with friends, dating men, or trying anything new. I just wanted peace.
Maybe my solitude turned into stagnation though. A creative’s worst enemy.
For the past two years, I’ve been working on a retelling of Beauty and the Beast. But I stop and start, unable to get the main character’s voice right. It’s like tuning a radio and failing to catch a clear signal.
What if trying to retell an old tale is the problem? If I want to feel inspired, I might need to concentrate on creating original material instead.
Professor Worthington looks around the table. “Abandon safeness, all ye who enter, and watch how you thrive! Now, let’s begin in earnest. Students, I’d like you to share one fact with the person next to you that you hoped to take to the grave. This isn’t a place for cowards.”
With rigid shoulders, I turn to the girl on my right. She looks as alarmed as I feel, and we break into relieved smiles. She has inquisitive eyes and silver-beaded braids.
“You’re nervous too, huh?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I say.
“I’m Zahra.”
“Sadie. Nice to meet you.”
As I speak, I notice a displaced page in the notebook Lucan snatched from me outside. When I leaf to the spot, I find a handwritten message on a loose piece of paper.
Meet me tonight at Altar. Eight o’clock.
“What’s Altar?” I ask Zahra.
She glances at the message in my hand.
“A private bar in Ember Falls,” she says. “Very exclusive.”
My brow furrows. “Private bar?”
“Owned by a Darkbloom secret society. Altar is one of their main haunts.”
“Sounds sketchy.”
Zahra presses her lips together. “Usually I’d say it’s fine. My sister partied at Altar as a guest and had a great time.” Her eyes move to the door. “But if you were invited by who I think you were…”
“I was.”
“Be careful then. If Lucan seems untouchable, that’s because he is. He can get away with anything.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Professor Worthington clears his throat, and I realize he’s standing behind us. “Ladies, enough of the chitchat. Share a secret with one another. I promise not to listen.”
He moves on, circling around the room slowly. I put aside Lucan’s note.
Another man shoulders the door open, roughly thirty years old. He carries manila folders and sheaves of paper in various stages of decomposition, like he unearthed them from a tomb. His face is unshaven and there’s a pencil behind each of his ears.
“There you are, Marco.” Professor Worthington spreads his arms wide. “Everyone, meet Marco, my glorious TA.”
The teaching assistant stares at the floor, not meeting anyone’s eyes.
“Hi, Marco,” we chorus.
As the conversations resume in a gentle hum, Marco settles into the spare chair beside me and busies himself with his colossal paper stack. Occasionally, perhaps when he thinks nobody notices, his furtive gaze snaps around the students and professor.
“So what’s your secret, Sadie?” Zahra winks. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
“You go,” I say.
“No way! I asked first.”
I chuckle. “Fine.”
After taking a moment to decide something, I cup her ear with my hand. I feel like a child telling tales, not a student at a respected college.
Anticipation skitters across my back.
Professor Worthington said I should get out into the world to improve my writing. I’m taking his advice seriously, because I need to take my education seriously. At this point, it’s all I have.
“I’m going to Altar tonight,” I say, “to find out if Lucan murdered his cousin.”
And whether he’s my goddamn stalker.