Chapter 23
THE SCREAM TEARS DEZ FROM a dream about her brother. She leaps out of bed and runs to her window. She stares into darkness, heart racing.
Endless snow. Early morning, tranquil campus.
But Dez didn’t dream that scream.
She hears it again, bloodcurdling and long. Coming from the north side of campus.
The only window facing north in their suite is in Yael’s room. Dez hurries to the living room, then knocks on Yael’s door.
No answer.
Frantically, she tries the knob. When it opens, Yael’s already at her window, her hair in a white silk bonnet, her body in a black silk robe.
“I told you someone was hurt last night,” Dez says, rushing to her side.
“This is different,” Yael says numbly. “This just happened.”
It doesn’t take long to see the body, slung over the outer edge of the labyrinth. Dez stiffens, imagining that long and lonely fall, that shattering end.
“We need to get help,” Dez says, her voice shaking. “What did you see? What happened?”
“Shit,” Yael says under her breath. “The braid.”
Dez looks down again, wincing as she takes in the unnatural angles of the body’s limbs. The head planted deep in the snow. Finally, she notices what Yael’s talking about. The long dark braid protruding like a tail from the knit cap.
“Alice,” Yael says quietly.
“No,” Dez says. It’s dark outside, but in the moonlight, this person’s hair is long and dark, whereas Alice’s shoulder-length, strawberry-blond hair is always worn in plaited pigtails. Someone else died out there, but Dez is sure it’s not Yael’s protégé.
She turns from the window and catches her roommate wiping away a tear.
“Yael?”
“I’m fine. I should have known,” Yael says, and falls into Dez’s arms.
“Should have known what?”
Dez isn’t sure what to do. She helps Yael over to the bed. Until now, Yael has treated Alice carelessly. Now she’s jumping to bizarre conclusions. And sobbing. They sit down together, and Yael throws her head on Dez’s lap.
“Hey. Yael. It’s okay.” Now Dez is lying. Nothing about this is okay.
“I was a terrible mentor.”
“We don’t know that it’s Alice.”
“I know,” Yael says, trancelike, tracing circles with her finger on the couch. “I’m so tired, Dez. I’m so tired of this fight.”
“Fight?”
Simon appears in Yael’s doorway, fresh from the shower. He clocks the two of them on Yael’s bed, their unlikely position. His brows shoot up.
“What did I miss?” he says.
Yael starts crying again, and Dez makes eyes toward the window for Simon. He glances out and seizes in shock.
Yael lifts her head off Dez’s lap. “What’s happening now?”
“Maintenance is out there,” Simon says hollowly. “They’ve covered something with a white sheet.”
“It’s Alice,” Yael says.
Simon’s face falls. “What?”
“She couldn’t handle the pressure,” Yael says. “This is Charles all over again.”
“We don’t know that!” Dez says.
But someone died out there. And Dez wonders how Acheron’s director is going to explain it this time.
“Da Vinci said the eye is the window to the soul,” Zarlengo says in the lecture hall that morning. “And isn’t that what each of you is really trying to capture in your films? Some semblance of soul?”
As if it never happened. As if two hours earlier, the maintenance crew hadn’t peeled a corpse off a topiary hedge.
Alice Quinn is absent, which strikes fear into Dez, but she still doesn’t think it was Alice’s braid in the snow. Everyone else in the lecture hall looks as haunted as Dez feels. Even Paul Rowan isn’t bothering to take notes.
How can Zarlengo be so unfazed when two people on campus have lost their lives in as many weeks? Dez tries to remember what the administration said about Charles Costello—that he hadn’t advanced with the rest of his class. He hadn’t become a last-year.
And Alice was only a first-year. Who hadn’t yet finished her first film. Dez shivers. She wonders if the director would act this way if Rafe turned up dead in the snow? Somehow, she doesn’t think it would be the same. Somehow, she senses that only certain students are disposable at Acheron.
The lecture hall door opens, and Moriah slips in, haunting the aisles with her cobra wrapped around her.
Zarlengo presses the button on his PowerPoint remote to reveal another slide. It’s another da Vinci sketch of an eye. Dez stares at the image. Does he not realize it’s insane to expect the class to sit here and be lectured at after what happened?
She raises her hand. She can’t stand it anymore.
“I’ll take questions at the end,” Zarlengo says.
“This isn’t about the lecture,” Dez says.
Her fellow students shift to look at her. Moriah coolly pets her snake. The room grows tomblike and still.
“Perhaps you’d like to make an appointment,” Moriah says.
Dez shakes her head. “What happened this morning?”
“You’ll have to be more specific,” Moriah says.
“Many of us woke up to the sight of a dead body out our window.”
Around her, other students murmur their agreement. Simon looks worried for Dez.
“Ms. Quinn was troubled,” Moriah says flatly.
The room erupts in gasps.
So they are saying it was Alice. Yael was right. But Dez feels the lie hanging like a cloud over Moriah.
“We did all we could to help,” the director says, “but at this time, we ask that you respect Ms. Quinn’s privacy while we contact her family about next steps. We are happy to offer counseling to anyone who needs it …”
Dez stands up. Moriah’s placations are an insult to them all. She’s not going to listen to this.
“Ms. Rae, attendance is required,” Moriah calls as Dez throws open the door and leaves the room without looking back.
Stepping outside onto the tri, eyes stinging with tears, she runs straight into Rafe.
He looks tortured, like he hasn’t slept in weeks. Probably just a hangover.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Why would it be my fault?”
“People are saying you and Alice had an argument at the bar last night.”
“That’s ridiculous. I accidentally bumped into her. She spilled some drinks. But, Rafe, I don’t even think Alice is the one who died—”
“I’d think after what happened with your brother you’d want to steer clear of homicidal drama—”
“Asshole.” She’s trying to push past him, too, but he takes hold of her arm, and the touch sends an electrical pulse through her.
“You’re dangerous, aren’t you, Dez?” He’s looking at her like he wants to bend her over and make her beg for more of whatever this is.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“I’ve helped you out of a jam before. Don’t be afraid to lean on me.”
Her eyes sting again but she will not cry in front of him.
“You’re a shitty mentor, Rafe.” She glares up at him, needing him to hear her. “One day, you’re hot. One day, you’re cold. One day, you’re accusing me of, what, murder? I never know what to expect from you, and I don’t need any of it.”
“Well, then, let’s try to keep it cold, shall we?”
“Great.”
“Great.”
But he’s still holding her arm. And where his fingers touch her skin, it’s so warm she aches inside. She can’t make herself pull away.
“Please let go,” she whispers, even though part of her wants both his arms around her until there’s no space between them. Part of her wants him to tell her everything isn’t as scary as it seems. That everything’s going to be okay.
“You’re trembling,” he says, softer now.
He lets go of her arm. She draws both of them to her chest. “I’m scared.”
“That suicide is contagious?”
“Two people have died in the last two weeks.”
“A hundred and fifty thousand people die every day. I can’t let each one concern me.”
“I don’t think anyone is safe here. Any first-year, that is.”
He gives her a serious look. “You are the safest person here.”
“How’s that?”
“Because I’m looking out for you,” he says. “And don’t forget you’re safer here than you would be the second you left this campus.”
“Maybe I’m ready to take my chances.”
“In jail?” He seems amused, almost daring her.
“I might prefer that prison to this one,” Dez says, and walks away.