Chapter 14

I fought to blink against the icy wind as I tried to see who’d called out to me. “What?”

“Come here, Agnes,” said the voice, and I was sure I recognized it.

“Tom? Is that you?” I asked. The shape of the human standing at the far end of the campus finally came into focus. “What are you doing out here? It’s cold as balls.”

“Come here.” His voice trembled from the cold.

I waved him toward me. “It’s freezing. If you want to chat, we’re going to have to do it on the way to the dorms.”

He didn’t move, so I shrugged and turned. The missed conversation was no big loss.

“Agnes, please come here.”

I turned back to him.

Something was wrong, that much was clear. I just didn’t understand to what end he was aiming. I hadn’t heard a word from him in weeks, and suddenly, he desperately needs to chat in the snow?

“We really don’t have anything to say to one another. At least nothing that can’t be said inside.”

“I just really need to talk to you privately,” he called, feet still planted in the snow.

I took another few steps back. “No thanks.”

“Please!” he screamed, voice breaking in desperation.

I stopped dead in my tracks. It didn’t sound like he was desperate to chat but, instead, absolutely terrified.

“Are you okay?” I asked, taking one step toward him.

Something about the snow was incorrect. An even layer of white stretched out in each direction. But when I looked at my feet, I realized what the problem was. There were no footsteps in the snow surrounding him. So, either he’d been standing there for a very long time, or he’d been thrown over the fence.

“I just want to talk to you,” he repeated, with a definitive warble in his voice.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said, turning and retreating as fast as I could, keeping my eyes on the warm window lights of the dorms ahead of me.

“Agnes, please!” He screamed. “Ag—”

A loud thump followed by a sharp wail of fear reverberated throughout campus.

Turning, I found him face down in the snow, as though something had shoved him over.

“Tom?” I asked, finally getting close enough to get a good look at his face.

Dark streaks I’d assumed were locks of hair waving in the wind were deep red slashes distorting his face.

“What’s wrong?” I gasped as he gazed up at me with swollen eyes.

He opened his mouth, which had gone red with blood, dark clots sticking between his teeth. “Help.”

Then he lurched, as if pulled by his ankles. Two lines extended from his feet all the way to the gate. He screamed, clawing at the powdery snow to slow his pace.

My screams joined his as I scrambled into action, grabbing for his outstretched hands. He immediately clasped my wrists, pulling me down into the snow.

“Help me!” he screamed in my face, gripping my forearms so hard I was worried the bones would snap.

“I-I’m trying.” I gasped, desperately searching for purchase.

The gate rose above us, and when I glanced up, I caught the glint of something just beyond it, lying in wait.

“Help!” I screamed as the space between us and the gate depleted.

But just as his feet disappeared through the gate, he stopped, and we both let out a sigh of relief. But then some movement on the other side of the gate caught my eye.

Looking up, I was surprised to find Tom’s face staring back at me, unslashed cheeks pressing into the iron bars. But the disguise was unconvincing. His face was wild with excitement, eyelids peeled back so far his eyes bulged out of his skull. His skin was stretched taut over the wrong bone formation, going pale and discolored in some places.

“If you come with me, I won’t hurt him,” the non-Tom hissed, voice wavering and breaking in a strange way.

“Please, I brought her,” the real Tom whimpered, shaking his hands where he still had my arms firmly gripped.

“Help!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, realizing I was trapped.

A pounding came from behind me, and I was worried it was just the thundering in my ears. But non-Tom’s eyes lifted from me as a pair of arms wrapped around my waist and yanked. Whoever it was, they were far stronger than me, and I was ripped from Tom’s grip.

“No!” he groaned, clawing after me as I was dragged away.

Then he lurched, more of his legs disappearing into the darkness beyond the gate. He went through until the bar between his legs collided with his crotch, and he cried out.

I assumed that would be it but then there was another lurch, and his crying turned into horrified screams. Petrified, I watched the bar bore into him, the pressure cracking through his pelvis with a horrible crunch. But the iron bar didn’t stop there. It continued tearing up through him, splitting him through the middle.

Through his bloodcurdling screams, his words were no longer discernable. Just garbled panic as the bar split between his lungs before getting caught on his collarbone. Then, with one final crunch, his clavicle split, and he disappeared through the bars, head on one side, left arm and shoulder on the other.

The pressure of the invisible arms left me, and when I looked around, I only saw footprints appearing in the snow, leading back to onlookers who’d gathered a few safe feet away. Lindy's was the only face I recognized, and she was the first to turn and leave.

“What’s going on?” I heard someone call from the other side of the crowd.

My muscles went limp in relief.

Professor Faun pushed through the students, only stopping when he found me crumpled on the ground. For a moment, he took me in and the trail of bloody snow I’d left in my wake.

Then he turned back to the onlookers. “All of you, back to your dorms.”

Approaching me slowly, he offered me a hand, but I nodded to where my cane was lying a few feet away, which he grabbed. I wanted to get myself to my feet, afraid even the smallest kind gesture would have me dissolving into tears.

“I need you to come with me,” he said carefully.

I nodded.

The sensation of being gawked at still had my hackles up enough that I kept a neutral expression as we walked through the darkening campus. Once we were in his classroom, I automatically sat in my tutoring chair.

He circled to his side of the desk but didn’t sit. “Would you like some tea?”

I shook my head.

“Do you want to tell me what happened, or do you want to wait for Ephraim?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but all that came out was a croak, followed by a sudden onslaught of tears.

He came to stand next to me in silence as I cried, remaining so still I almost suspected he’d gone until I felt the sensation of a handkerchief being pressed into my palm.

His face swam back into focus as I wiped my eyes, and he finally eased into his chair.

“I’m sorry.” I hiccupped. “This is embarrassing.”

“That’s a ridiculous thing to apologize for.”

“I could have tried harder.” I gulped down air, but none of the breaths seemed to sink in. “I tried to pull him back, but—”

A hiccup bubbled up my throat.

“There’s nothing else you could have done.”

“How was that even possible? Tom was an upperclassman. How did it catch him?” I shivered, thinking of the creature watching me with wild, excited eyes.

“It’s why we warned you that it’s capable of luring you in ways you probably couldn’t even comprehend,” he said, hand coming up to that same spot on the desk he always worried with his fingers. “We know because they learned it here.”

“They’re the students who never left?” I asked, something clicking in my brain. “That’s why you warned me against being trapped here forever.”

“The madness isn’t a given, but there are different rules beyond the gate.” He rubbed his neck. “There’s no way to ever be completely prepared for the things you can encounter in this world.”

“Shit,” I said.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Shit.”

The curse made a laugh bubble out of me, and he actually cracked a smile.

“I apologize. That wasn’t very professional.”

Taking a deep breath, I looked at the handkerchief in my hands. “Professor?”

“Yes?”

“What happened to your head?”

I didn’t have to look to know his smile was gone. “Why do you want to know?”

The question came out stilted, like he was stopping himself from saying it in a more aggressive way.

“I want to know if I’m ever going to be able to get past everything that’s happened. I don’t know how I’m supposed to be a regular person after this.”

His hand, still against his neck, dropped. “Unfortunately, my story won’t bring you much peace.” He must have seen a flash of horror in my eyes because he added, “I trust you’ll be surprised by your own resilience.”

I stared at my hands, wringing in my lap. “What resilience? I’m crying in front of my professor. I’m pathetic.”

To my surprise, his chair creaked as he leaned forward and placed his hand over both of mine, swallowing them whole. The contact was fleeting, only long enough for a gentle squeeze, but it sent warmth flooding through me.

A moment later, Ephraim’s door appeared on the wall behind Professor Faun’s desk, and we went inside. I explained everything as best I could, though it was hard to get through it without my breath catching. But he didn’t stretch out my misery and dropped me back at my room straight away.

On my windowsill, I found a bottle of alcohol, the amber glass still cold from the cracked window. I opened it immediately and glugged half of it down before collapsing into sleep. That night, I was even mercifully spared my usual nighttime symphony.

The next morning, I woke up to a bright red notice on the floor by the door. Unsurprisingly, it was an urgent announcement, prohibiting upperclassmen from leaving campus until further notice and instilling a curfew for everyone else. I barely bothered to read it before it went in the fire.

I went for a dip in the baths before heading robotically to the dining hall, desperate not to be alone. But when I opened the door, my eyes immediately found Arlie, who was surrounded by miserable Messor students.

Blair was leaning against her shoulder. She seemed to sense my eyes, excusing herself from the table before running up to me.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Fine, I guess.” I sighed, my eyes meeting Blair’s over her shoulder. “Is that back on?”

He didn’t look thrilled to see me.

“His best friend was just . . . Well . . . he needs some support right now.”

“And I’m guessing that support network doesn’t include me?”

Arlie winced. “The wound is just a bit fresh.”

“Fine,” I said, trying to swallow my hurt.

She put her hand on my shoulder as I turned to leave. “It’s only for now.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s okay,” I insisted weakly, shrugging her off on my way back out the door.

Feeling restless, I went back to Corporeality Hall and knocked on Professor Faun’s door. I wasn’t even sure he would be there, but he still answered, cup of bone tea in hand.

“Are you okay?” he asked, clearly steeling himself for more tears.

“Can I borrow the record player?”

“Oh.”

He seemed genuinely surprised.

“I promise to bring it back in one piece. No one wants to talk to me, and the silence is freaking me out. You’re not using it?”

“No, by all means.” I followed him to his desk, and he handed over the case by the handle, but before I could leave, he stopped me.

“Here, try this.” He offered me a record, and I took it hesitantly. “I always like this one when I’m feeling sad.”

“Did you just admit something personal to me?” I asked with a tired smirk.

He returned his attention to the stack of essays in front of him. “Don’t get used to it.”

I brought the player back to my room and sat on the floor with it, the bottom half of my pumpkin cider in hand. When I hit play, I was pleasantly surprised. Sure, it was his usual sappy, strummy nonsense, but it had enough girth to it to actually have an emotional impact on me.

I fell asleep on the floor next to the player, waking up hours later with booze soaking into my hair. I didn’t know what woke me until a knock sounded, likely not for the first time. I answered it to find Rigel leaning against my doorframe.

“Christ,” he said, eyebrows shooting up. “You look like shit.”

I tried to close the door in his face, but he stuck the toe of his leather shoe in the way.

“I’m really not in the mood.” I slammed the door against his foot, but he didn’t flinch.

“I know something you’ll want to know.”

“Like what?”

“Can I please come inside?” he asked, glancing down the hall.

Sighing heavily, I relented, withdrawing to let him in.

“Whoa,” he said, going straight to my windowsill, where my army of wooden mice lived. “You’ve got an impressive collection. She’s only given me a couple.”

“What do you want, Rigel?”

He stepped over the record player and sat on the edge of my bed. “I wanted to know what you planned for the winter holiday.”

I glowered at him. “Why?”

“Because I plan on being proven right.” He waited, giving me the opportunity to seem impressed. But when I didn’t take the bait, he continued. “Lindy let me in on a fun little secret that might be relevant to you.”

I gritted my teeth. “Talk faster or leave.”

“Apparently, during your first Christmas here, they give you the glossary page from your history as a gift. But Lindy didn’t get one, and I highly suspect you won’t, either.”

I rolled my eyes. “Have you not gotten bored of this yet?”

“I’m offering to wager that you’ll help me if I’m right.”

“Fine, whatever. Now leave.”

“See, was that so hard?” His eyes wandered around my room before landing on my desk, where the nearly finished sweater sat. “That’s nice. Who’s it for?”

“Why? You want it?” I asked, trying to conceal my discomfort.

He leaned over and ran his hand over it. “I enjoy its rag doll quality.”

I’d done my best to create a decent color pattern, but I had little control over the yarn I had access to. I was a little worried the person I wanted to give it to would think it was unbearably ugly, if he even accepted it to begin with.

“Too bad. I only make things for people I like.”

He smiled and got to his feet. “Ouch.”

“Bye.”

“See you around, Tits.”

He left on his own, and I kicked the door closed behind him.

There was only a week of classes left before we had a short winter break, and thankfully, I had a lot to get done for school. I told myself it was the reason my social life disappeared and not the fact that people were avoiding me.

No one said anything directly, but there was a clear consensus that I’d had something to do with what happened to Tom. The constricting curfew didn’t earn me the benefit of the doubt either.

Arlie was always busy tending to Blair, who was heavily distressed and clearly didn’t want to be around me. So, aside from my classes and tutoring sessions with Professor Faun, I was alone most of the time.

We were getting tested during the final week of classes before break. Obviously, I didn’t have much trouble meeting the Transparency requirements, so I wasn’t terribly concerned. I could about reach Stage 4 Transparency, though not for long and not with exceptional ease.

My classmates made it clear how amusing it was that I was still only doing slightly better than average, despite months of tutoring. But I was relieved not to be progressing too fast, though for an admittedly ridiculous reason.

Professor Faun’s presence had become an anchoring point for me. Even when his eyes glazed over and seemed to forget where he was, I no longer read it as apathetic. Every time the fog cleared, his eyes would focus back on me, and there’d be a flash of something like relief.

Each day, it felt less like tolerance, and I was pleased he seemed to genuinely enjoy my company.

Unfortunately, my superficial attraction hadn’t dissipated but instead had sunk in all the way to the bone. Despite his best efforts, I liked him in almost every possible way, which was bad news for both of us.

During the final Object Manipulation class of the semester, we had to present what we’d made with our objects. Arlie played a tune on her mandolin, her fingers only falling through the strings twice. Rigel filled an entire sketchbook with drawings, though he only showed a handful to the class. And they were all so well done you’d never have guessed he might struggle to grip the pencil. My favorite was an elegant portrait of Lindy I hadn’t recognized at first because she was actually smiling.

I brought most of my crochet projects, some of them better than others. The only one I left in my room was the sweater. It made me uncomfortable that other people might see it. So, I only got a decent grade instead of a spectacular one.

Interpersonal Exploitation was by far the hardest. Until that point, single-page studies had sufficed, which made reading them aloud relatively quick and painless. But the class on the final Friday was different.

We had to present a five-page paper with specific references to the history of the intended target, as well as any other relevant people in their life. It was the only time we were expected to keep to our own house, which was unfortunate because I found Iudex to be the most challenging of the four. But the sleepless nights and the giant stack of histories on my desk had paid off.

I passed.

Unfortunately, when I woke up on the first day of break, I had absolutely no plans. Glancing outside, I found people running around in the bright white snow, having snowball fights and laughing together.

An announcement was waiting on the floor for me, telling me there would be a celebratory dinner on Christmas Eve in the dining hall. So, in the empty days before that, I finished my gifts and spent plenty of time with Stacy. I hadn’t seen her for the last week of classes, since the new curfew was in effect by the time I got out of tutoring.

She did a lot of manual labor during the days, shoveling snow and collecting lost items. Since most required the use of both hands, which was out of the question for me, I was excused from those tasks. But I got to gather the mouse bones while she mended torn blazers.

When the celebration came around, I donned the formal dress from my wardrobe and carried my three paper gift bags through the snow toward the dining hall. My slow pace made me one of the later arrivals, and the building was already bustling with noise. The regular booths had been swapped out for a massive oval table that nearly stretched across the entire room.

I cut through the crowd, finding Arlie first. But she was still surrounded by reapers, and the hostility was palpable. Blair was on her arm and, to his credit, still looked miserable as he kept his eyes on the floor.

Arlie hugged me and squealed with delight when I handed her the gift.

“For me?” she asked, pawing through it to uncover the matching hat and scarf. She put them on immediately and apologized for not getting me anything, though I got the sense she was also apologizing for her absence.

Because I wasn’t interested in being mad at her, I gave her another hug and continued on my way.

I squeezed into a gap between two unfamiliar upperclassmen who barely registered my existence.

Ephraim was at the head of the table, flanked by the other teachers, and I was disappointed to find Professor Faun missing from the line-up. I tried to stealthily look around while Ephraim made a toast to a wonderful semester.

I barely registered that he was done until everyone around me lifted their goblets in a toast, which I mimicked with haste.

Everyone began eating from the bounty of food lining the table in elegant serving trays. The dining hall lady was the only one not sitting, as she had a hell of a job refilling the serving platters and keeping the animals at bay. Kazak and Malak wove in and out of everyone’s chairs, clearly begging for food despite the dining lady’s chiding. And when she wasn’t looking, the mammoth’s trunk dipped into the middle of the table, sampling some cream-based soup before the dining lady leaped clear into the middle of the table to beat her off with a dripping ladle.

The room was so warm and happy, but the joyous atmosphere bounced off me, refusing to do so much as settle on my skin. After a few halfhearted mouthfuls, I pushed out of my chair and carried my gifts over to Stacy’s seat. She seemed genuinely shocked that I’d made her something, and when she opened it, I would have sworn I saw a glint of happy tears in her eyes. She pulled them on immediately, and I let out a sigh of relief that they fit.

The rest of the staff was rapt with awe, which seemed a little harsh. Most had gifts in front of them. But then I realized that I wasn’t the only one who’d gotten Stacy something, which must have been exceptionally uncommon. In front of her was a hand-drawn portrait of herself sitting at her table by the fire where she carved her mice. I was both happy Rigel did it and admittedly a little irritated that he insisted on showing me up at every turn.

Stacy gave me a one-armed hug, which was equally awkward for both of us. I wished everyone happy holidays and beelined for the door with my final gift still in hand.

“Is that one for me?” Rigel called as I passed his seat, but I didn’t even bother reacting.

Once I was outside, I let a tear or two fall, just to get it out of my system. But when I looked up, I found a light on in Corporeality Hall, and I realized where Professor Faun was hiding.

I walked up the stairs and knocked on his door. There was a long pause, and I began to worry that he’d accidentally left his classroom light on. But then I saw the sliver of light under his door move, and he opened it a crack.

“What?” he barked, hitting me with a wave of booze breath.

Startled by the uncharacteristic irritation in his voice, I held the bag up to him silently.

He looked between the bag and me in confusion and groaned loudly. “What’s this?”

“Merry Christmas?”

He opened the door farther, and I was surprised to find him disheveled. His eyes were bloodshot, and his shirt was unbuttoned. This time, I was granted more than just the hollow of his collarbone. Dark chest hair swirled against skin that glistened with a dewy layer of sweat, a sight that felt off-limits to me. Even his posture, which was usually straight and poised, was slouched. The sound that leaked out behind him was familiar, the record he played when he was sad.

“God, I just wanted a week of peace. It’s a fucking holiday. Do you seriously not have anywhere better to be?”

The words hit me like a physical blow.

“Um . . . no . . .”

He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging the sleek waves. “Do you seriously not spend enough time around me? You really need to take up my personal time as well?”

“I-I’m sorry . . .”

My voice was small, and my stomach was clenching so hard I was glad I hadn’t eaten much at dinner. Otherwise, I might have sprayed it all over his shoes.

“Just do me a favor and try not to bother me until next Monday? Please?”

He didn’t even wait for my response before slamming the door in my face, leaving me alone in the dark hallway.

I dropped the bag where I stood and spun, nearly sprinting for the exit. The mix of shame and misery heated me up so much I barely even noticed the cold as I trekked back to my dorm alone. I managed not to cry until I was finally back in my room.

Every miserable negative feeling I’d suppressed with schoolwork was hitting me all at once. I was alone and miserable. The people I’d constructed around me to feel happy either viewed me as a second option—or, even worse, a nuisance.

I’d been desperate to see Professor Faun almost every moment he wasn’t around. I’d enjoyed making him the stupid sweater as a sort of quasi extension of his presence. But he’d only been putting up with me. And any kindness or—dare I say it—enjoyment I might have perceived was just professionalism. To him, I was an irritating extra bit of his workday, hoisted on him due to my own stupidity.

When I woke up the next morning, my eyes were still swollen from the crying, and I must have slept late because I found multiple things waiting for me.

Firstly, a stack of mail that had come in from under my door and doodads on my windowsill.

I discovered another bottle of cider with a note from Arlie wishing me happy holidays. Next to it was a small carved figure of myself, cane and all. It didn’t have a note, but I already knew who it was from, and even though I’d seen many of her creations, I was still stunned by the detail.

From the pile of papers on the floor, I pulled out a general news bulletin announcing events for the following term. I also got to see my grade report, which wasn’t anything I wasn’t already aware of. But what shocked me was what was hidden underneath.

Wrapped in a thick envelope was a drawing of Arlie and me in our usual booth in the dining hall. Outside of the fact that it was black and white, it could have been a picture of us. My cane was leaned against the table, Arlie’s legs curled up underneath her, both of our heads thrown back in laughter. I actually teared up before I realized who’d made it.

I slid the picture back into its packaging and moved past it for the time being because the final letter in the stack was a thick red envelope, and I suddenly realized this was it. This was my gift. My personal glossary.

I popped the wax seal and opened it in a rush, finding a card with a tree artfully painted onto it.

Many seasons greetings, Agnes!

We look forward to ushering in many more holidays with you here!

—Ephraim and faculty

Confused, I checked inside the envelope again, finding it empty. I even checked all over my bed to see if it might have fluttered out without my noticing. But it wasn’t anywhere to be found. Which could only mean one thing.

Rigel was right.