Chapter Eleven We may be better strangers
CHAPTER ELEVEN
We may be better strangers
I HADN’T REALIZED IT THEN, but there was another door leading to the maze from the other side of the building. From beyond it, a voice boomed through the courtyard.
“You will call me Provost Henning,” came the voice of an older woman.
“And excluding the unlikely and miserable chance that you are sent to my office, you will otherwise not see me until the end of the year, when I determine whether or not your academic output is worthy of the coveted Westfield scholarship.”
Alaster cursed. Honey looked terrified. Even Kasem looked unsettled.
“Put your shirt on, you silly little fool,” Alaster snapped, grabbing Honey by the shoulders and trying to force the shirt over her head. The gesture only caused her to sob more. Kasem grabbed Alaster, pushing him away.
“Touch her again. I dare you.”
In the bushes behind us, the sound of approaching footsteps grew to a crescendo, and more voices spoke. The person—Provost Henning—had come with students from orientation.
“Are only fourth-year students allowed in this courtyard? Or are freshmen allowed to use this building too?” another voice said, this one higher.
“While this area is restricted, it houses a statue of one of our founders, a beacon of the diversity Westfield has always modeled itself after,” Provost Henning said, seemingly pleased with herself, despite the fact that the statue was hidden and sectioned off from the rest of Westfield.
At my side, Honey hurried to rebutton her shirt. But her hands trembled, and she couldn’t seem to see beyond her tears.
“You were supposed to be on the tour with them,” she said, looking at me now.
“Provost Henning’s the head of student academic affairs.
She wanted to run the orientation tour for Poppy House this year.
That’s why I made you guys stay in your dorm instead of joining the orientation tour.
It’s because scholarship students get their own tour. ”
Kasem knelt beside her.
“Don’t take it personally. This is how Westfield is. You know that.”
“But I didn’t follow instructions. I was supposed to come back for them and I didn’t.” She wiped her snot-filled face. “And now they’re going to see me like this. I’m going to lose my job.”
“No one will say anything. Honey, stop crying,” he whispered.
“He’s right,” Alaster said. “Resident assistant is barely a real job. And for Poppy House? Those handouts are sucking this school dry. If anything, he’s the one who should be frightened. Not you.” I winced at the vicious bite to Alaster’s words, but Kasem and Honey seemed unaffected.
“That’s what people call you guys here,” Kasem explained, turning to me instead. “‘Handout students.’ ‘Welfare Poppies.’ It’s incredibly trite, but since you’re here, let me give you some advice. Turn around. Leave while you can. You’re not going to make it at Westfield. None of you are.”
The steely weight of his warning was clear, heavy. An echo of Jojo’s words to me.
Something had changed since he’d first come to the pawnshop looking for my help. It was like a switch had flipped in Kasem, and he was doing everything in his power to pretend like I wasn’t here because of him.
Behind us, the footsteps and voices grew closer.
“Call me when you’re back at your dorm,” Alaster said to Honey.
“Don’t speak to her,” Kasem snapped.
“Kasem, stop,” Honey whimpered. “Please.”
But the sound of their arguing had long since projected through the courtyard.
“Out. Now,” Provost Henning shouted. “Whoever you are, I demand you come out at once.”
“Relax, Provost Henning,” another voice said. “I’ll go and check to see who it is.”
I could recognize Jojo’s voice from anywhere, and sure enough, there he appeared at the turn of the corner in the maze.
He glanced between Alaster and Honey, and then to me and Kasem.
“Provost Henning,” he said, his voice loud, his gaze locked on us. “I suggest we end the tour early.”
From the other side of the maze, the students began to speculate among themselves.
Honey looked helpless and took a step toward Jojo. “It’s not what it looks like, Ojore.”
But Jojo wouldn’t look at her. He stormed to where Kasem and I were, making the same assumptions that Honey and Alaster had.
“If you did something to her—” he warned.
Kasem yanked his hand out of Jojo’s hold.
His lips pursed, a light of hurt cutting into his expression. It was there for a second and then it was gone, disintegrating beneath a cool mask of disinterest.
“As if I’d hurt her,” he said, releasing his hold on me.
His blazer was still draped over me, and it held traces of salt and sweat and him. I folded it in my arms and handed it to Kasem, flustered by his unwavering gaze and his lingering touch when he grabbed it.
On the other side of the maze, Provost Henning spoke again.
“Scholar Saint James? Are your brother and that silly Garnier girl back there?” The provost laughed.
“She never is far when it comes to you Saint Jameses. Bring them here. I’ll have the president notified of this immediately.
Campus grounds are highly restricted for orientation, and I’m sure whatever you’ve caught them doing is against university policy. ”
It was as if on all sides, Kasem was cornered.
Provost Henning, shouting threats at him.
Honey, caught between belief and suspicion of what he had done to me.
The professor, knowing he had the weight of tenure on his side and the backing of the institution.
And then there was Jojo, his older brother, watching Kasem as if he were wild and dangerous.
Kasem ran his hand through his hair, shaking his head with laughter that was as cold and brittle as the outside air. Our gazes locked, and the laughter died on his lips.
“Don’t confuse what you think you saw with what really happened,” he said. “It’s easy to imagine things here at Westfield.”
“I know what I saw,” I said, my voice trembling yet defiant.
He scowled but didn’t answer. Instead, he walked to the other side of the maze and down the path where Provost Henning and the cohort of first-year scholarship students were waiting. The provost interrogated him the moment he reached them.
“I’ll have you expelled this time, Kasem.
I’ll make sure of it. Students,” she said, clearing her throat and returning her attention to the group accompanying her.
“I shall bid you adieu at this time. I’ve already notified Joseph, your other resident assistant, to meet you and take you back to your dorm.
Follow the path where we came, and he’ll be waiting.
If you have any questions, you can raise them to your resident assistant or the dean of your school. ”
Alaster was already on his way out of the maze, taking the path back from where he’d come. But Honey was a mess. Her lipstick was smeared, her shirt half-buttoned, and her lace bra exposed from earlier. Jojo helped her up, barely even looking at me when he spoke.
“Go, Sianna,” Jojo said. “Now. We’ll talk later.”
Reluctantly, I raced after Alaster. By the time I turned the corner, Provost Henning had arrived at where Kasem, Honey, and Jojo were crouched on the ground. Whistles and coos spilled through the other side of the maze. Some of the freshmen hadn’t left yet.
“Well, this is embarrassing,” Honey muttered. “Kasem and I are sorry for interrupting your tour with the new students,” she said, speaking to the provost. The tears in her voice had disappeared and, instead, she spoke in that same loud, bubblegum tone that she’d used on the fan boat.
“Welcome again to Westfield. May the debts we owe to blood be waged in our legacy.”
I was already halfway gone, but her words made my heart drop.
“What did she just say?”
Alaster turned to look at me, annoyed.
“What?”
“May the debts we owe to blood be waged in our legacy,” I repeated.
“The Westfield motto,” Alaster said, and the fact that he’d snapped into professor mode, when he’d just been caught with one of his students, was laughable. “You should have it memorized by now if you’re taking your time here seriously.”
But I wasn’t listening to him anymore. That phrase. It wasn’t exactly as the figure had said it, but it was there, like a warped version of the warning he’d given me.
Beware the mark of blood debts.
Instinctively, I reached for Kasem’s bracelet, ignoring the swell of regret forming in my chest as I followed Alaster out of the maze.
He knew the path easily, weaving from corner to corner until we emerged at the entrance from which I’d first come. The door I’d locked stood open, and the wedge had returned to its place between the door and its frame.
“You know,” Alaster said, “my cousin has a lot to say about me, but as a graduate student, Kasem should know better.”
I was taken aback by Alaster’s words. Kasem hadn’t looked much older than me. For him to already be pursuing a master’s degree was… unexpected, especially with his drunken antics at Gus’s shop.
“If he harmed you in any way back there, we can report it to your dean.”
“It wasn’t him. It was another person—one of the students,” I said, remembering the figure with skin like moonlight and pupilless eyes.
“You don’t have to lie for him.”
“I’m not. Why would I?” I shook my head, angry now. “He saved me. The branches came to life, they grabbed me, and a guy in a hoodie and a Westfield blazer—just like the one you’re wearing—tried to attack me.” I stopped, realizing what I’d implied.
“Now, don’t try and twist things to seem like something they’re not,” Alaster said, the warning clear in his voice.
“Isn’t that what you’re trying to do with Kasem? Why are you so convinced he hurt me?”
“I just want the truth,” Alaster said quickly. “Even if it means my cousin will no longer be able to study here at Westfield.”
But it wouldn’t matter what I said. He’d already decided who my attacker was, even though everything I’d seen and experienced screamed of something else entirely.
Yet, I couldn’t explain how Kasem had found me, how he’d pulled me out of the hedge before the other figure could take me.
And then there was the vision, the echoes of the past and future bleeding together.
I closed my eyes, letting the lie marinate before I could speak it. “I was confused and disoriented. Kasem was trying to help me.” That was at least partially true. I had been lost in the maze. And even if I didn’t know why he’d been there, Kasem did save me.
A shadow cast over Alaster’s gaze. I’d defended Kasem. And for some reason, that infuriated him. He clenched his fist, his lips pursing into a sneer. For a second, alone with him, I became afraid. But then he saw the bracelet on my wrist, looked at it the same way Honey had in the fan boat.
Honey had recognized the bracelet as Kasem’s back then, and Alaster and Jojo knew that too. Somehow, Kasem would be the one inheriting Westfield. Not Jojo, the older brother, or even Alaster, the cousin, who appeared to be the oldest among them.
“Did Kasem promise you a portion of the Saint James estate?” Alaster asked.
“Or is he giving you all of Westfield when he turns it into piss?” When I didn’t answer, he leered down at me.
“Just so you’re aware, he’s not seeing a fraction of the Saint James inheritance.
Not while he’s alive, and sure as hell not while I am. ”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. But I was lying. At least partially. In the vision of the future I’d seen, Kasem had gotten an inheritance. But at what cost, I didn’t know.
Alaster drew closer and I recoiled.
“The Westfield inheritance,” Alaster said, reading the confusion in my expression for what it was.
“If he promised you anything in exchange for your silence, he’s using you.
But if something did happen back there in the maze, something you think might be worth reporting to the board of trustees, then you can tell me.
I actually care about Westfield and its reputation.
My father, as you might know, is our university president.
And when he retires, the Board will look to me for the role, as they always do with our side of the family.
I can make this worth your time, even if it means you’ll probably have to transfer elsewhere. ”
For the second time that day, a Saint James was asking me to lie. Kasem had wanted me to pretend I hadn’t witnessed the figure in the maze. Alaster wanted me to accuse his cousin of being behind the attack.
I’d known that coming to Westfield would feel twisted and wrong.
But this—this was something else entirely.
If Kasem, Alaster, and Jojo were all desperate to inherit the Westfield estate, I wondered how they’d respond if I told them what I’d seen.
Because in my vision of the future, it had been Kasem who would receive it. Not Alaster. Not even Jojo.
I tried to collect myself, but the reality of what I’d walked into was suffocating.
Here was Alaster, with a motive and the means to eliminate his rival and cousin.
Even if it hadn’t been him in the alleyway, maybe he’d paid others to kill Kasem?
He was trying to bribe me now, wasn’t he?
If I made the false accusations against Kasem to the board of trustees, Kasem stood not just to be expelled, but likely his claim to the Westfield inheritance would be at risk.
“You don’t have to decide now,” Alaster said. “Take a few days to think it over, and then, when you’re ready, perhaps when classes start, we can talk.”
It wasn’t a suggestion. As a tenured professor, he could probably find a million ways to make my life at Westfield hell if I challenged him on this.
“Fine,” I said.
“Good. I’m not used to hearing ‘no.’”
“I bet you aren’t,” I snapped.
We’d been walking now for a few minutes and were nearly back at the main halls where the party was taking place. One of the waiters passed us, and we made room for them to squeeze by. But then Alaster leaned toward me, his figure casting a dangerous shadow as he placed a heavy hand on my shoulder.
A chill crept along my neck, and behind him, the glow of light from the medieval sconces that lined the hallway flickered softly. It was as if the air had been sucked from around us, as if we weren’t at all alone in this hallway and some quiet force was waiting to make its presence known.
Then he gave me a quick squeeze before, thankfully, letting me go.
“Can you find your way back to your dorm from here?” he asked. “I’d hate to be seen near Poppy House, but I can escort you there if you really need it.”
“I’ll be fine on my own,” I said. I’d forgo the medical center. The nosebleed had stopped and the less time I was on campus, the better. I was desperate to get back to my dorm.
“Enjoy orientation,” Alaster said. “And then I’ll see you when classes start.”
To my relief, he left after that.
I was alone. But the presence in the hallway didn’t relent, and I found myself fidgeting with Kasem’s bracelet, as if it might protect me from whatever invisible force had remained.