Chapter 23 Orientation #2
“Thank you, Professor Starr,” said an equally well-groomed, but younger man, who ushered the professor out of the way and took over the presentation.
“Bottom line—” he told them, “I’ve got three reasons to NOT end up at Bear Towne Hospital. Dr. Starr already mentioned the transmutations,” he said holding up his thumb. He added a finger at each increasingly horrific reason to stay away from campus health care.
“Second—and this is no rumor—the hospital has a resident banshee, who doesn’t always follow the prescribed treatment plans—if you know what I mean,” he said with a nervous laugh to a roomful of crickets.
Hailey tried not to look as shocked as she felt. Honestly, Professor Starr had her at “transmutation.” Talk about fodder for nightmares.
“Also,” he continued, “there has been an increased incidence of flesh-eating Zombitis among patients treated in the emergency room. So, do what you need to do to stay healthy, because there’s no telling if you’ll come out of the campus hospital in better or worse shape than when you entered.”
Campus safety for humans was next. The student handbook laid out most of the information on Bear Towne’s predators, but Hailey did take a few notes from the I-MET worker, who marched to the front of the room wearing a presidential mask—Reagan it looked like.
For instance, she had no idea you could use a shotgun to kill mosquitos.
Also, the colored flag atop the Trinity Center indicated the mosquito climate for the day, with green meaning a low concentration of blood suckers (usually due to high winds); yellow meaning no amount of DEET will protect you, and red meaning grab the shotgun.
Things wrapped up with the campus priest blessing the freshmen and reminding everyone to tend to their soul—go to church, be nice, and don’t kill anyone, was his advice.
Seemed easy enough.
With that, a very hungry Hailey collected her notes and headed to the Bruised Moose Café for lunch, where she was delighted to find Giselle sitting alone at a table next to the windows.
“Hi,” Hailey beamed, having forgotten completely that she’d vowed to keep to herself.
Without even looking at Hailey, Giselle pushed her chair back and bolted out of the café. A mass exodus of every patron followed. And then the cooks dropped their spatulas and hurried away, leaving Hailey in the middle of a very large, very empty Bruised Moose.
Suddenly, she didn’t feel like food. Not that she could have ordered a delicious-smelling cheesesteak anyway. The place was deserted. Shoulders hunched, and head low, she slouched toward the exit. Only after taking a few steps did she realize someone stood just inside the café door.
“Asher,” she said, smiling—mostly because she was glad to see him, but partly because it wasn’t she who had emptied the Bruised Moose.
“How are you enjoying my university?” he asked in his very kind way, unfazed by the sudden emptiness of the entire café.
“It’s great,” Hailey answered with zero enthusiasm, and Asher tilted his head. “Actually,” she said, looking away, “I’m an outcast—you’ve made—” She sighed, motioning to the emptiness. “Everyone’s afraid to talk to me.”
Asher closed the distance between them and lifted Hailey’s chin.
“Those who look for a reason to fear will find one, and those without reason will follow,” he said.
That was what Giselle had told her. Kinda.
Asher was far more eloquent. “I believe you’ll feel at home once you’ve met my more seasoned students. ”
He held Hailey’s gaze, and she felt he was searching for something.
“What is it?” she said, and he broke his stare to look at her lips.
“We must talk,” he said darkly, and Hailey’s smile vanished. He placed her photo of Holly into her hand, moving his thumb against her skin in a gentle caress before stepping away.
“Thank you for holding this,” she said, her voice uncertain. Then she turned to the window and wondered how she’d get it back to Eureka without ruining it in the rain.
Asher must have sensed her distress, because he gave her a knowing grin. “There’s a better way than through the rain,” he told her. “I’ll show you, but you must eat, Hailey. I can see you’re weak with hunger.”
Whatever Asher had to say must be pretty bad if he didn’t want her to hear it on an empty stomach, she figured, frowning.
“Mitch,” Asher called, and a tall, bug-eyed man tottered from the shadows. “Would you prepare your signature sandwich for Hailey?”
Mitch grabbed his spatula, twirled it in the air, and smacked it on the grill.
“You got it, boss.”
Hailey’s stomach growled. It sure looked and smelled like a cheesesteak. Wrapping it in foil, Mitch handed it to a delighted Hailey.
“Thanks, Mitch.”
“Anytime, Miss Hailey,” he answered, pointing his spatula at her and winking.
“This way,” said Asher, taking her by the hand. He led her to a stairwell, and down they went until they reached an underground landing.
Tapping a switch on the wall, Asher lit four corridors leading away from the stairs at 90-degree angles. They were so long, Hailey couldn’t see an end to them.
“Many of the buildings here are connected by an underground tunnel system,” he told her, and her face lit up. “It’s especially popular in the winter.”
Carved wooden signs with arrows indicated which corridor a student should take to get to the hospital, for example. Olde Main, the Library, and Eureka showed on another sign, which pointed down the tunnel in front of them.
After nervously walking hand-in-hand with Asher for too many quiet seconds, Hailey decided to break the ice. “Has Giselle asked you if she could have a new roommate?”
“She hasn’t,” he said with curiosity.
“She doesn’t like me very much…”
“Yes, you have made quite an impression on her, but I don’t believe it’s negative,” he told her. “Giselle fears rejection above all else. She’s never known the sisterly affection you show her. I believe she’s fond of you,” said Asher, and Hailey pulled her brow together.
“If she is fond of me, she hides it well,” she said. “What is she?”
“When she’s ready, she’ll tell you.”
Hailey turned her attention to an unmarked side passage, slowing her gait to peer curiously into it.
“Dangerous things lurk in the darkness of these tunnels, Hailey,” Asher said. “Always turn on the lights, and never stray from the main corridors.”
A low growl rumbled from the blackness inside that passage, and Hailey’s heart quickened.
“Keeping you safe requires much effort,” Asher sighed, gently tugging her hand. Then he paused to study her. “I wonder if I shouldn’t lock you away,” he said, his eyes tracing Hailey’s hairline as he ran his fingers across it. “I would put you someplace where no one could touch you.”
Hailey yanked her hand from his.
“Lock me away?” she said, her voice rising.
“Asher, I’m not your prisoner here— and you don’t own me—I’m not your possession—I’m your…
your student,” she said more offended than angry…
and a little scared. Now that she was at Bear Towne and thousands of miles away from Uncle Pix, no one would help if Asher went all Beauty and the Beast and locked her away.
She gave him a good old-fashioned, angry, Irish stare.
“You provoke many things inside me, Hailey,” he said, his eyes flashing, and she could tell he struggled to keep his voice even as he clenched his fist.
Hailey’s heart raced, but she stood her ground, betting that despite what Giselle had told her, Asher would never hurt her no matter how she behaved. She could probably prove it.
“I will protect you, but you mustn’t defy me,” he warned, and she met his intimidating gaze.
“I will defy you, Asher. If I need to.”
Asher squinted briefly, but then the fire inside his eyes died.
Dipping her chin, Hailey studied her feet as her heart rate came down.
“I can handle this place. I’ve already proven that I can escape a killer in-between, right?” she said, her eyes dancing around the tunnel. “I mean, I’ve survived for nineteen years. I think I can handle four more.”
“You had five Guardians for nineteen years,” he told her.
She furrowed her brow for a moment before realizing he must mean her uncles.
“And now I have you,” she countered.
That made him smile.
“Don’t ever lock me away, Asher,” she said slowly, stealing a glance at him as they approached the stairwell to Eureka, and he seemed to be thinking about it.
“You would forgive me in time,” he concluded without looking at her.
Hailey shook her head. He needed to stop this. Now. There was no way she’d ever belong to anyone.
“No, I don’t think I would,” she said, sounding appalled. She looked him up and down as she gathered her courage. “And I would never love you.”
Nauseous, she turned on her heel and trudged up the stairs.
Asher stared after his girl, furious, remorseful, alarmed, and altogether unsure if he would allow her the freedom to defy him again. It was as if he had had her in the palm of his hand not ten minutes ago only to let her slip from his grip.
He wanted her back. He wanted her happy. And he had no idea how to manipulate her—she simply would not obey him.
These circumstances—these feelings—required a keen understanding, which he did not possess. But he knew who did, and he appeared inside the office of his friend, Simeon Woodfork, hell bent on finding answers.
“Ah, Asher,” Simeon said as soon as he noticed the Envoy standing pensively at the window inside his office. “How can I be of service?”
“The girl is…” Asher struggled to choose the proper word. “…difficult,” he decided.
“Hm? Yes. All the good ones are,” Simeon remarked in an off-hand way.
“Explain this to me.”
Simeon straightened up. “I’m sorry, Asher, what would you like me to explain?” he asked, and Asher left the window, preferring instead to peruse the professor’s collection of books.
“I cannot control her, Simeon,” he said flatly and his eyes found the title they’d sought. Pulling it off the shelf, he skimmed a page near the center of the book.
Simeon clutched his chest.
“Good Lord. Are you in love?” He pointed to The Indispensable Collection of Love Poems, which Asher held in his hands.
“I think of little else,” he realized. “And I fear I’ve lost her affection even as others compete for her favor.”
“Good Lord,” Simeon breathed again, holding tight to his desk as he watched Asher with bulging eyes.
Ignoring Woodfork’s display, Asher concentrated instead on the literature in his hands. Humans had loved for thousands of years. Surely one of them had written down the methods and techniques required to win a woman’s affection.
After several seconds of shocked silence, Simeon cleared his throat. “Tell me, Asher, why is it you believe you’ve lost the girl’s affection—I assume you mean Miss Hartley?”
Asher looked up from his book. “She pulled her hand from mine in anger and walked away,” he recalled. “She told me she would never love me.”
“Oh, dear,” said Simeon. “Surely something preceded this sudden departure…?”
“I offered to lock her away…to keep her safe,” he reasoned, and Simeon raised his eyebrows.
“Forgive me, Asher, but are you so willing to lock her away because you wish to protect her from harm? Or is it because you wish to hide her from another suitor?”
For a moment, Asher considered this, but then he returned his attention to the book.
“I see no difference,” he said.
Woodfork drew a breath to speak but seemed to rethink his words and pressed his lips together. Asher scowled at the book.
“There are no instructions in here,” he said with a level voice, even as he furiously flipped and scanned the pages of poetry. Stopping at one, his finger traced a passage.
If love were what the rose is
And I were like the leaf
Our lives would grow together—
“These are nothing more than riddles,” he concluded and slammed the book shut.
“I’m afraid there are no great answers in any of these,” Simeon said, waving at the shelves. “Just a collection of hopes and laments…and some joys.”
With that, the professor turned away and pulled from the shelf a well-worn copy of The Hunchback of Notre-Dame. Placing it in Asher’s hands, he said, “Read this one, my friend. In it, you may find some enlightenment.”
Asher studied the professor. “You once loved a woman who adored you; I remember her well. How did you win her heart?” he asked, squinting slightly as he searched Simeon’s mind.
“That was long ago,” the professor sighed, turning to the candle he kept lit on his desk. “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can tell you. Besides, we both know how that ended.” Pinching the wick between his finger and thumb, he snuffed out the flame, wiping his eyes before turning again.
“If I may be so bold,” Simeon said politely. “Perhaps you should ask Miss Hartley out. On a date.”