Chapter 15

I left the room donning the same dress as the night before. Lindy’s room was uncharacteristically silent, but it felt like a safe bet. I knocked on the door, but when she answered, she was alone.

“You didn’t get one, did you?” she asked, clearly amused.

“Where’s Rigel?”

“In his own room.”

“Why?”

“He needed to check his mail. Not all of us sleep till noon.”

“Which room?” I asked, ignoring her taunt.

She told me how to find it on the outside of the building. When I turned toward the door, she asked, “So, how does it feel to be a part of the shit luck club?”

“Fantastic,” I said over my shoulder as I limped for the exit.

I walked through the snow to the Ultor dorm, which I’d never been to. I found his room on the second floor, two spots back, smacking the glass with the end of my cane.

He opened the window and peeked down, smiling with triumph upon seeing me.

“You were right, okay?” I hissed, trying to keep my voice low.

He nodded toward the front door. “Come on up.”

I walked around to the entrance and was surprised to find that the door actually opened when I tried it. Rigel was waiting for me in the lobby, hands in his pockets and a smug grin on his face.

“Same clothes,” he noted. “Fun night?”

“No.”

He puckered out his bottom lip. “What a shame.”

When he began walking, I followed, not even registering that we were going to his room until we arrived.

I expected something benign and plain, since décor was generally hard to come by. But I was shocked to find his walls papered from end to end with drawings.

“Whoa,” I said as he closed the door.

“Impressed?” he asked like he already knew the answer.

“And you accuse me of needing to get a life.”

“I’m pretty satisfied with how I spend my time. Are you?”

“Don’t be a dick, okay?”

“Oh, is someone feeling sensitive just because they realize they need my help now?”

“Don’t rub it in.”

“I reserve that right.”

Strolling over to his windowsill, I found an array of carvings alongside a personal statue similar to the one I’d received that morning. His was of him and Lindy, arm wound around her shoulder.

“You got a glossary page, then, I take it?” I asked, picking up the carving to admire it closer.

“Yeah,” he said, though he didn’t sound massively thrilled.

I set the figure down and walked over to his desk, where I could see a discarded sheet of cream-colored paper. “Can I see?”

To my surprise, his long arm shot out, hand covering the page before I could get a good look.

“It says I was very cool and everyone loved me, obviously,” he said, voice stiff, borderline defensive.

I stole a quick glance at the paper and spied two words that immediately told me why.

Committed Suicide

Noticing my straying eyes, he crumpled it into a ball and threw it in the bin across the room.

“Don’t you want to keep that?” I asked.

He shrugged, the movement jerky, lacking his usual cavalier grace. “It doesn’t say anything I couldn’t have already guessed.”

It sounded like an honest answer, and I had to fight the temptation to feel bad for him.

“Anyway, you’ve got my help, even though I don’t know why you want it so badly.”

“Your natural intuition,” he said, clearly relieved at the conversational shift. “I also wouldn’t turn my nose up at any information you’ve managed to squeeze out of Professor Faun.”

“Information?”

“Yeah. I mean, you’ve spent nearly every day with him for months. I figured you’d be harvesting as much information as you could.”

“Not all of us are constantly scheming.”

“Then, what have you been doing this whole time?”

“Learning?”

He rolled his eyes. “Still? That’s disappointing.”

I scowled. “I saw your demonstration. You know Stage 4 is hard.”

He raised his brows. “Oh? Are you sure?”

Then, with a snap, he disappeared.

“See? Easy.”

The words tickled my ear, making me jump in surprise.

“Holy shit.” I gasped, having to catch myself on the edge of his bed. “Why didn’t you do that during the assessment?”

He appeared at my side, smirking in satisfaction. “They don’t need to know everything. I did just enough to get myself a good grade.”

I righted myself with a huff. “What do you gain from doing that?”

“Have you ever considered that you’re far too trusting for your own good?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“Not really. I might have friends if that were the case.”

“Maybe it’s just that you’re roughly as likeable as I am.”

“Rude.”

We chuckled, dispersing some tension.

It was odd to laugh with someone. Professor Faun hadn’t exactly been a riot on a good day, so I’d been deprived for weeks.

He stepped over to his desk and sorted through papers before he pulled out a well-worn scrap, which he handed to me.

“This is how far I’ve tracked the mice.”

I scanned the long list of letters, each indicating a specific tunnel in the archive. “And what’s at the end?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten there yet.”

My jaw dropped. “This isn’t the whole thing? How long does this even take?”

“So far? Roughly four hours.”

I balked. “Four hours?”

“Yeah. And might I say, your charming little curfew has really thrown a wrench in my mapping.”

“My apologies. I’ll ask the bloodthirsty monster that’s hunting me to be less obsessive.” I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, I don’t know how you think I’ll be able to speed up this process.”

“I don’t think that. If I’m honest, I think I’d just like a bit of company.”

“Can’t you just have Lindy go with you?”

“No.” He scoffed. “I wouldn’t make her do this shit-shoveling nonsense. I love her.”

My eyes widened with shock.

“You love her?”

“Why do you sound so surprised? Have we not been loud enough?”

“I guess I just never pinned you as the type.” I put my hand over my heart. “It’s adorable, honestly.”

Something suspiciously similar to pain flashed in his eyes.

“Well, you guessed wrong.”

I decided to be merciful and not torment him too much. “Whatever. So, when are we looking for the mysterious thing?”

“After the holidays. I’m not an animal.”

“Fine,” I sighed.

“Why do you sound disappointed?”

“I’m not.” I rolled my eyes and opened the door. “Bye, Rigel.”

It was, in fact, disappointment eating at me as I hobbled back to my dorm. I’d had my heart set on a fool’s errand to fill my time, but I wasn’t even granted that.

So, instead, I sequestered myself inside the dormitory, spending most of my time in the lounge playing arcade games. I told myself it was Object Manipulation practice. But, really, the electronic beeping was the only thing loud enough to keep me from thinking. Though every time I so much as blinked, the images slipped in—Tom being torn in half, Professor Faun slamming the door, and my empty red envelope.

The memories stalked me like prey.

On Monday, I considered sleeping through class, since I wasn’t sure I could tolerate seeing Professor Faun so soon after Christmas Eve. Or ever, for that matter. But I’d have to face him eventually.

I kept my eyes down as I got settled in my usual seat. I could see the outline of him sitting behind his desk, but I couldn’t bring myself to actually look at him.

Part of me wondered what he did with the sweater I’d made. I hadn’t even intended to drop it. In fact, I probably should have kept it. At least if I had it, I could turn it in for a grade.

When class started, he droned on about the expectations for the rest of the year, voice and demeanor unchanged. How could he have been the same person angrily slamming the door in my face days before? Did the feelings of those around him really mean nothing?

Luckily, the expectations for class seemed relatively simple. Everyone needed to reach Stage 4 Transparency by the end of the year. Since I wasn’t even progressing exceptionally faster than my peers, I debated meeting with Ephraim to plead my case against the tutoring. That would be a mercy for the both of us.

I ignored most of the lesson, patiently waiting to leave. He didn’t stop me this time as I went to my next class.

We were redirected back downstairs to the vault, which had everyone buzzing with excitement.

“All right, everyone. You all did a great job learning with objects you recognize, but now we need to up the difficulty.” Professor Algenette announced as Wilhelm’s desk appeared next to her. “Now I need you all to choose something you don’t recognize and learn how to use it.”

We all filed in and perused the aisles. After searching, I found a little wood carving kit with different tiny knives—an easy grade, since I had someone to teach me. But when I reached for it, someone else beat me to the punch.

Rigel and I grabbed either end of the bundle, both of us refusing to let go as we mean-mugged each other.

“I saw it first,” he insisted.

“You’re Mr. Good At Everything, so go find something else you can impress people with.”

“If there’s one thing I like more than being better than people, it’s an easy grade. Hand over the knives.”

I tugged them toward my chest. “No.”

“You didn’t make me anything for Christmas,” he whispered, raising a brow in challenge. “You owe me.”

“Creepily drawing pictures of people from across the room is weird.”

“But do you not like it?”

My lip twitched. “I will kick you in the balls.”

“You’ll feel bad about it.”

“Fine,” I said, releasing the knives. “Whatever. You suck.”

He smiled at his success and leaned in close to my ear. “I’ll see you this weekend?”

I grimaced. “Don’t remind me.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Moving on, I ended up by the instruments, wondering if any were easy to learn.

“Care to trade?” called someone from behind me.

I turned to find Arlie looking timid.

I played it cool, not willing to get my hopes up. “Trade what?”

“If you teach me how to crochet, I’ll teach you an instrument.”

“Any of them?”

“Quite a few of them. Apparently, I was in a band before I died.”

“Sweet,” I said, realizing I hadn’t had the chance to talk to her since Christmas. “What else did your glossary say?”

“Apparently, I was also really into soccer. But I died suddenly of some congenital heart defect while at a pizza place.”

“That’s horrible.”

She shrugged. “Apparently, it was fast. So, that’s something.”

“I guess.”

“What about you?”

Trying to decide if I should tell her, I paused. Would she believe me? Would too many people hear? Looking back at her, I saw hurt in her eyes at my silence.

“You don’t have to tell me. It’s okay. I know I’ve been a dick.”

“You haven’t—”

“Don’t eat my ass, Agnes,” she said. “Blair was just being more pathetic than you, and I’m a fucking sap, okay? I’m sorry. But if I’m teaching you an instrument, we simply have to hang out.”

“Say no more,” I said, picking up some odd round guitar. “What about this thing?”

“That’s a banjo. And, yeah, I think I kind of know how to play that.”

“Works for me.”

Arlie picked out a crochet hook and yarn. After checking them out, we went to the dining hall to celebrate our unofficial reunion. But the good mood could only last so long because, soon, I had to drag my feet back to the Transparency classroom.

I opened the door like I usually did but kept my eyes down as I walked over to my spot at his desk.

“Agnes,” he said, voice strained.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the stiffness in his silhouette. While I still couldn’t bear to look at him, my eyes landed on his hand, which was still worrying at the same spot on the table.

I shook my head. “I don’t want to discuss it.”

“I think we should.”

“Can we just do this stupid practice so I can leave?”

“Agnes, can you please look at me?”

To my surprise, he raised his hand, long fingers aiming for my chin.

I flinched out of the way before he could touch me. “Let me guess, you’re going to tell me how emotionally driven and unprofessional you behaved. How you didn’t intend to tell me how inconvenient I am. Well, my apologies, Professor, but that’s not actually going to make me any happier, so we might as well get on with it.”

He took a long, deep breath, the outline of his chest pressing into his black sweater. “You caught me at a really bad time.”

Even in that horrible moment, it was hard not to look at him.

Crossing my arms, I leaned back into my chair. “I don’t care. It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.” He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “I shouldn’t have said those things.”

“Please, spare me. I’m literally begging you not to repeat how miserable I make you.”

“I don’t want you to feel that way.”

“Well, it’s too late for that.” I scoffed. “Can you please just tutor me or tell Ephraim I’m saved so we can move on?”

He motioned to my face. “I can’t teach you if you look like that.”

“Well, you were doing such a good job teaching me while I was intolerable to be around. Surely, you’re capable of ponying up now.”

He took a long draw of breath and whispered, “You’re not intolerable.”

“The cat’s out of the bag, Professor. It’s not my fault I’m a person who actually shows emotion.”

“I don’t pretend to be someone who knows how to handle things like this.” He cleared his throat, tugging at the ribbon around his neck. “But I would be incredibly upset if my poor behavior endangered you.”

I shook my head. “You’re a pathetic liar.”

Genuine shock slackened his features, and he stuttered an unintelligible volley of consonants.

I didn’t bother waiting for him to find his words, grabbing my bag and turning toward the door.

I didn’t notice him following me until I grabbed the door handle. Suddenly, he was right behind me, hand reaching over my head to pin the door closed in front of me.

Hand on the knob, I froze. Part of me was worried he would threaten me. But, after a moment of silence, he breathed out long and slow, ruffling the hair on my shoulder. He was so close I could practically feel his heart pounding through his sweater.

“Do you think I would be helping you this much if I was as indifferent as you accuse me of being?”

His words hovered in the air between us for a moment before they sunk in. I wanted to read it as an insult because, if it were cruel, it would mean a clean break. But it wasn’t, was it?

I turned slowly until I was facing him, my chest nearly touching his in the narrow valley of space. The way his arm was braced against the door above me felt like I was being enclosed by him, and despite my reservations, I’m sure it was clear in my expression that I wanted to touch him so badly it hurt.

When I met his eyes, I expected him to recoil in recognition. But I found an odd expression on his face. It wasn’t the same as mine, but it wasn’t cold professionalism or clear disdain. He looked . . . worried. Like he’d crossed a line and wasn’t sure how to retreat. Or maybe—just maybe—he didn’t want to.

Before I could overthink it, I leaned onto the balls of my feet and pressed my lips to his, removing the valley of air between us in one simple motion. A sensation, like I’d physically popped a bubble, rushed between us. I could smell him and feel him so acutely, as if we were meeting for the first time.

Despite the sensory overload, something inside me uncoiled, as if the strain of holding myself back had been a weight on my shoulders I’d grown used to.

He didn’t pull away, but he also didn’t grab me by the throat and slam me against the wall. It was like he was frozen between the two options.

Slowly, his hand fell from the door, drawing closer. It came to rest on my stomach, his thumb dangerously overlapping the waistband of my slacks. But he only balanced it there for a moment, as if trying to steel himself, before gently pushing me back.

I slid back down onto my heels, my hand automatically coming up to cover my mouth. He looked terrified, like I’d threatened his life. The silence was so heavy it felt hard to draw breath, but neither of us could seem to break it. I turned, opening the door undeterred now that his hand was hanging limply at his side.

Slipping out, I limped wildly toward the stairs, head spinning. I couldn’t believe what I’d done. If he told anyone, I’d have a one-way ticket on the black-door express.

I went straight for the dorm, garnering looks of concern as I pushed through every group crossing my path.

When I got back to my room, I didn’t even make it to the bed before my legs buckled under me. I was buzzing, and I wasn’t sure if it was excitement or terror. My body seemed to have one opinion, my brain another. But the relief that I’d found no disgust in his expression was almost worth it. Granted, it hadn’t been wildly positive. Maybe I’d shocked him into stoicism or whatever the afterlife equivalent of a stroke is.

In all likelihood, he was telling Ephraim I’d tried it on with him, and they were planning my expulsion as I spoke.

I stayed frozen on the floor, as if the consequences wouldn’t find me as long as I was still and quiet. Once night fell and no one came for me, I finally slipped into bed. But after a few hours of nightmares, sure enough, I woke up to a red envelope waiting for me on the floor.

My body was rigid with silent protest, wondering how long it would take for someone to physically remove me from the room. But after a few minutes, I couldn’t take it anymore. I ripped it open and unfolded the letter.

Congratulations, Agnes!

Professor Faun has informed me you’ve completed your requirement and can now successfully defend yourself! Very well done! Of course, you should continue independent practice, but your afternoons belong to you once more.

Wishing you a safe semester,

Ephraim