Chapter 3
C H A P T E R3
The Witching Hour
Cade
The Present
T he wind howled as I rode up St. Victoria’s hill.
My motorcycle’s light guided me through the tenebrous night, my leather-gloved hands tightening on the handlebars as shadows, scattered amongst the maple trees lining the pathway, played in my peripheral vision like wraiths. This ancient motherhouse—now converted into an educational institute for the elite’s offspring—was rumoured to be brimming with phantoms. If you believed in that sort of thing. Although the series of macabre deaths revolving this place was quick to prove that there was something diabolic in nature deeply rooted at its core.
Over the years, many students claimed they’d seen things, heard things, felt things. Things that were intangible and challenged their grasp on reality.
I wasn’t a believer in the paranormal, therefore my experience at St. Victoria remained untainted by these speculations. In my book, the only demons that existed were the sick humans who walked this earth, sinners in all shapes and forms.
Perched like an old relic in a contemporary world, St. Victoria’s edifice unravelled at the top of the hill as I neared the gates. Centuries-old architecture laden with dark turrets, grey stones, and discreetly hidden gargoyles on the roof, the school was a sculpture straight out of gothic literature.
Despite the eerie ambiance, one could still appreciate its beauty.
When I parked my motorcycle near St. Victoria’s woods, a myriad of memories flooded my mind. Ella and me riding together to school, her arms wrapped around my middle and her vivacious laugh in my ear as she enjoyed the wind in her hair. Ella and me crossing the hallways together, my hand braided with hers and the other one holding her purse because she’d gotten tired of hauling it. Ella and me seated by the fountain in the courtyard, stealing kisses between classes and making plans for a future that would no longer come to fruition.
Everywhere I looked, I saw Ella.
She was my favourite memory and my mind loved revisiting her.
It gutted me that I lost the privilege of so many things that made me feel like her protector, but most importantly…it gutted me that I lost her .
Ultimately, there were two prominent reasons I was here tonight.
To see Ella and to win her back, once and for all.
Far in the distance, I heard low ruckus and knew the boys were already here.
These woods were reminiscent of the ones at Remington estate, but ours were more tamed and serene. St. Victoria’s forest was unruly and high enough to block out the night stars. It even hosted a small cemetery for the graves of the children who’d perished when this institute was still a motherhouse back in the early 1900s.
Colourful leaves crunched beneath my black boots as I trudged into the woods. Back in the days, after home games, the boys would hang out here with alcohol and locker room talk.
Less than four minutes of walking and I entered a clearing where everyone—the current hockey team and my old teammates—sat around a small fire. It was near pitch black save for the light emanating from the flames, allowing me to see everyone’s faces. The air was laced with the smell of weed, as well as boisterous chatter and a rap song playing on somebody’s phone.
Shaun Jacobsen the III, previous captain of St. Victoria’s Rangers, was the first to spot me. “Bro, you made it!”
Greetings echoed in unison. I saluted the boys and headed towards Shaun. He sat on an old tree trunk with a bottle of Sam Adams. I shook his hand and clapped his back. “How’s it going?”
“We’re making bets on who’s going to win tonight.” Shaun chuckled around the rim of his bottleneck before taking a small swig. “Of course, none of us think it’s the freshmen.”
Freshmen never won Initiation Night. They were too new and too nervous to play this game. It took a seasoned player who’d been around the block at least once to win.
“Let me guess: You think it’s one of us.”
“Yup. I’m betting on one of the alumni.” Shaun scratched his blond beard. “Besides Darla and me, since we’ll be monitoring the competition.”
I noticed belatedly that Shaun actually came dressed for the event—as most people did, since it was close to Halloween—and the first genuine laugh in weeks escaped me. “Dude, what the fuck are you wearing?”
“Oh, I’m a plague doctor,” he said merrily, garbed in a black cape, a plague doctor mask over his head, and holding a cane topped with a winged hourglass. It was ridiculous and very much on-brand for Shaun. He wiggled his eyebrows. “Do you like my costume?”
Shaun was nothing short of a jester and that’s one of the things I liked most about him. Even though he came from the kind of money that would make most weep, he was funny, selfless, and humble. Unlike the rich, snobby kids of St. Victoria. The best word to describe him was kind . Shaun had taken one look at me in sophomore math class—the new, quiet kid—and decided we’d be friends. He made sure I met everyone in his circle and that I never sat alone during lunch.
Essentially, Shaun was one of the best people I knew. He’d been there for me through thick and thin. If anybody ever messed with him, I’d make them regret ever existing.
“It’s great.” I shoved my hands into my pockets. “You look like an overgrown garden gnome.”
We both laughed at that.
I sat down next to Shaun and a guy from the team offered me a beer. I shook my head in response.
For three months, I didn’t drink a drop of alcohol. I wasn’t planning on starting now.
I sensed Shaun watching me with a quizzical expression as I pulled out a cigarette and tucked it in the seam of my mouth, searching the inside pocket of my leather jacket for my Zippo. The same one Ella gifted me two years ago with my initials— CKR —engraved and an orange lollipop painted on the metal surface.
We had many love languages. Words of affirmation and gift giving remained at the top. Ella and I always gave each other small, meaningful things. It wasn’t about materialism, rather about showing the other person that you were always thinking of them.
Running my thumb over the flint wheel, a bright flame flickered and I lit my cigarette. Bad habit, I knew, but in my defence, I’d stopped for nearly three years. This was a recent development.
“I’m going to do you a favour tonight,” Shaun murmured so low, I had to strain to hear him.
My cheeks hollowed as I took a drag. Releasing the smoke from the side of my lips, I asked him, “What kind of favour—”
A booming voice interrupted the rest of my sentence. “Yo, Shaun!”
My head snapped up to find Gavino Ricci, another alumni, heading our way.
Truth be told, I was cordial with the boys on the team, but Shaun was the only one I was close to—the only one I cared about.
Ella used to tease me about being a lone wolf. She wasn’t wrong. I liked to keep to myself and rarely opened up to others. Outside of St. Victoria, I had a small, loyal group of friends and that’s how I liked it.
“Hey,” Shaun replied. “Everything okay?”
“Just wondering if we’re going to start Initiation Night soon,” Gavino asked, then grinned at me like he just noticed my presence. “Oh hey, how’s it going, Cade?”
“Good, you?” I chin-nodded, shaking his outstretched hand.
“I’m doing good too.” He leaned against a nearby tree. “Haven’t seen you around lately. Where have you been?”
Stalking my ex-girlfriend. Running through the city doing errands for Uncle Vance. Trying not to fall into a depressive pit with all the shit marathoning in my head. “Here and there. Mostly occupied with my studies.”
“Nice. I heard you got into business school.”
I hated small talk. “Yeah, majoring in accounting. You?”
“Nah. University isn’t on my radar until next year.” There was a bit of a self-deprecating edge in his tone. “I got other things on my plate right now.”
Gavino was a nice guy. Not very tall and blond like goldilocks. We’d both been defencemen on the team, though I was the alternate captain and he was on the second line.
Despite all the surface level stuff, I respected Gavino’s hustle. He was born on the rough side of South Side, Montardor—just like me—and had attended St. Victoria courtesy of a scholarship. He was smart and worked many odd jobs to sustain himself from what I remembered. I found that quite admirable.
We turned our attention to Shaun when he cleared his throat, fiddling with his phone. “Darla just texted. She’s at the front doors. We need to head out.” Then louder for the rest of the guys, he yelled, “Almost quarter to midnight, boys! Let’s fucking go!”
The crowd roared in excitement, Shaun’s shout galvanizing them into action.
We were leaving the woods when I grasped Shaun’s shoulder and pulled him back. “What favour were you talking about?”
Shaun gave me a smirk laced with dark amusement. “You’ll see soon enough.”