Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CAT

I hated going out at night, when the sky was black, the grounds were covered in shadows, and the absence of light could have hidden any number of creatures. I froze on the edge of Milton Hall, the darkness so complete I couldn't even see the spire above me, not a single light on inside the building. I'd have to be careful that no one saw my torch.

"What the fuck am I doing?" I whispered to myself, creeping closer to the building, my ears strained for footsteps or the rustle of clothes. I heard neither, but I could have sworn someone was behind me, their breathing loud enough for my ears to catch. Yet when I stared into the shadows, there was only the faintest sliver of moonlight illuminating the trees of the par—no figures, no movement.

I was paranoid. And with good reason. I was about to commit a crime. Several, actually. Breaking and entering was number one. Theft was the second. Or was that tampering with official files? I wasn't up to date on the technical terms of my crime.

For Virgil, I reminded myself as I followed the path that wound down the side of the building where most classes were held—and where the administrative rooms were housed on the ground floor. I knew there was a side entrance into Milton Hall; I walked past it every day to reach the graveyard. I also knew it was locked, hence I'd spent all morning tracking down someone who owned lock picks and willing to sell them to me. 1 Then I spent all day on YouTube learning how to use them. I'd never locked and unlocked a jewellery box quite so many times.

Now, I cast a glance around myself, searching the smears of black between trees for glowing eyes or watchful crows. When I found nothing, I had to write it off as a plain old guilty conscience.

It was only when I'd crouched in front of the door and set both picks in the lock that I wondered why Justin couldn't just hack his medical records. A bad feeling twisted through my stomach, but I'd committed; I wasn't about to chicken out now.

The lock clicked after a few attempts, and I jumped to my feet, carefully opening the door, beyond relieved to be out of view. I left the door cracked open and paused just inside the corridor, listening, waiting for Nightmare to catch me in my defiance. Or for one of Ford's security team to find me trespassing.

Not that I'd actually seen any security at Ford.

Besides, this was my campus. I'd say I found the door open and came to retrieve my MacBook or something. It wasn't like I hadn't come prepared with a few fifty pound notes in my pocket, but nerves at getting caught only built when I put my picks away and turned on the torch on my phone. I slammed my finger over the light to dim it, lighting the old stone corridor in diffused orange I hoped no one would be able to see from the windows.

I dragged a slow breath into my lungs, the dust and dark history scent of this place overwhelming my senses. I hadn't been here in weeks. Months, maybe. It felt weird, and even more unsettling was how glad I was to be back here. Miz had tormented me in his secret human form, and Alastor Carmichael made my life hell, and classes were a dizzying overload of information, but I'd been safe here. Nightmare had never touched me in this building.

"Maybe I should move in," I muttered, walking down the stone corridor, the tiles worn by centuries of feet. I wondered if Dean Fairchild had protected this building the way he protected the campus from Nightmare until she murdered him. I didn't even know how he'd kept us safe.

A twist formed in my chest when I remembered how kind he'd been, and how he tried to help me when I went AWOL from classes after Nightmare made me kill Darya. Now he was dead because he tried to keep us safe. Tried to keep her out.

A sweet scent hit my senses when I reached the administrative rooms, and for some reason the hairs rose on the back of my neck. I could have sworn it was roses and orange blossom, could have sworn I knew that scent. I turned slowly, sniffing the air. I knew I looked fucking stupid, but paranoia wouldn't release me.

I couldn't smell it anymore, only the musky old air of the building. It was official. I was going mad.

"Probably one of the administrator's perfumes," I told myself, testing the door to the main office and glad when it swung open. I could get my picks out again, but they slowed me down.

Speaking of slowing me down… the huge, glossy computer that sat on the desk opposite me taunted me with an obvious fact. All computers were password locked.

"Fuck," I hissed, closing the door behind myself and swinging my muted light around the room, like the password would reveal itself to me in a moment of divine intervention.

"Why you couldn't do this yourself, Justin, is beyond me," I huffed, approaching the computer and scanning the mess of papers around it, the pens thrown haphazardly in multiple pots, sticky notes everywhere.

A short laugh burst from me when I scanned the colourful notes stuck to the screen's frame and realised the password was right there, in plain sight. God, some people were stupid.

"Thank fuck for stupid people," I murmured. Talking to myself was comforting. I was glad to be alone 2 but I hated the silence.

I sank into the plush desk chair and murmured appreciatively. I needed to get Dad one of these for his birthday. It was comfy as hell and the lumbar support was off the charts. And now I'd officially lost it if I was thinking about lumbar support.

I put in the password, trying not to judge Dom1nantD0berm4n! for such a horrific password. No doubt it was catchier before he was forced to add numbers and special characters.

I exhaled a rough breath when I got into the account with no issues, and immediately scanned cluttered folders and files for student medical records. It took me a fraught, harrowing six minutes until I located it—Dominant Doberman needed to get his shit together—but less than twenty seconds to find Justin Merchant among the plethora of students and past alumni.

"Well," I murmured, skim reading his file. 3 Two weeks ago he was treated by the nurse when he got a serious nosebleed in class, and despite vigorous resistance (nurse's commentary, not mine) she managed to get a blood test out of him. It came back with a nosebleed-inducing amount of cocaine in it. No wonder Justin wanted his records wiped.

I opened my phone camera to record a video and made quick work of deleting the file, tracking down any backups and deleting those, too. It still didn't answer why he wanted me to do it instead of him, but at least it was done. Now he'd help me find Virgil's location. Easy. Ish.

When I logged out and turned away from the computer, my eyes fell on the row of filing cabinets. I wonder…

Dominant Doberman kept his physical files in better shape than his digital ones. Each cabinet was marked with a fancy printed label, including two rows labelled STUDENT RECORDS in white typewriter font against a black background. I made a guess that Merchant would be in the second cabinet and carefully eased it open, wincing at the drawer's horrific shriek. An answering scuffle came from the hallway outside.

I froze, my heart drumming fast. My body was a statue.

I wasn't about to call out who's there? but I knew there was someone watching me. Was it Justin, making sure I got the job done? Or was it the goddess of nightmares herself?

I strained my hearing for another scuffle. Nothing. Had they left?

Well, I've come this far.

I thumbed through the drawer of files as quickly as I could, my fingers faltering on LINDGREN, MASON before I bit my lip and forced myself onward. I couldn't shut out the memory of his death though, the robed figure grasping his shoulders, then Mason splayed on the rug, his face stretched in horror, a piercing scream ringing in my ears.

I remembered the sudden silence of his scream cutting off, remembered the sight of him dead and pale, a rictus scream forever on his face.

Nightmare, darling. I am Nightmare.

I shook my head hard and pulled out Justin's file instead, flicking through until I found a copy of his medical records, as suspected. I folded it into a square and pocketed it, replacing the file and very, very carefully pushing the drawer back into the cabinet.

"You can do this," I whispered to myself, but it was a shit pep talk. I knew there was someone outside that door, watching me. Why hadn't they burst inside to threaten me? What were they waiting for?

A rapping came at the window behind me, and I spun with a terrified sound I couldn't suppress. I could have sworn a startled gasp came from the corridor, could have sworn it was female. Oh god, the perfume I smelled. I wasn't going mad.

And now there was someone at the window, someone who knew I'd broken into Milton Hall, who could use that to blackmail me like Nightmare blackmailed Byron into killing Erika and—

Branches. It was only branches from the trees on the edge of the graveyard whipping the window as the wind got hold of them. My shoulders sagged. But there was still someone outside. Stalking me. Watching me.

I'm so fucking sick of people terrorising me.

I reached past the lock picks in my pocket and closed my fingers around the knife Tor gave me. I refused to be anyone else's victim.

"I'm armed," I called, loud enough that my voice would reach my stalker but not loud enough to call any more attention to myself. "I have a knife. You have three seconds to fuck off before I bury it in your stomach."

I took a step towards the door and let my boots scuff the polished wood so they knew I wasn't fucking about. Relief weakened my knees at the sound of footsteps running away, my stalker breathing roughly as they fled.

I was only given four seconds of relief. I peered around the door at the hallway, making sure it was empty. I'd taken one step out of the administrative office when a deafening ringing blasted through the silence.

Oh, god.

The fire alarm.

I needed to get out of here before I was discovered with stolen medical records.

I kept my knife in my hand and ran for the door. I wouldn't hesitate to slash it at my stalker if they confronted me. I wouldn't kill again, would never take another life, but they didn't have to know that.

My footsteps pounded down the old stone hallway, echoing like twisted percussion as I ran, not slowing until I reached the door I purposefully left cracked open. No light came from outside, only my dim torch lighting the hallway. I knew what I'd find before I grabbed the handle. I knew the door wouldn't budge.

My stalker had locked me in.