6. Nora

6

NORA

The row of townhouses that belonged to the other professors made me envious. I’d ended up in a cold crumbling tower while they had full houses with a yard and more. I pressed my lips into a frown as I parked my bicycle and pushed through the iron gate that gave way to Harold’s front yard.

After my run-in with Alec, I’d gone home, enjoyed an orange, and then waited for the rain to break before riding back into Twine. I went up the stone steps and knocked on the door, glancing around.

It flew open. Harold gave me a wide grin. “I wasn't sure if you were going to show,” he said.

“And why wouldn't I?” I asked.

“I thought maybe you had analysed the three of us with your psychological abilities.”

“They’re not abilities?—”

“I’m teasing you,” he said. “Come in.”

I held my tongue and stepped inside. He shut the door behind me, and my eyes widened. The town houses were way nicer than the tower, which wasn't a shocker, but I certainly was becoming more and more angry at my arrangement the Dean made on my behalf.

And with three other professors dead…

Would it be rude of me to ask to be moved? And did I really want to or was I just picking an issue to be angry about?

Briar certainly didn’t care about being rude, so should I?

“Jacob and Louis are here. And dinner will be ready soon.”

I caught a glimpse of a maid down the hall and raised a brow. “Starting to wonder what your salary is here.”

He chuckled. “Very much a teacher’s wage, but if I don’t have someone cooking for me, I starve.”

“How very sad for you.”

Harold grinned again. “Oh come now. Don’t you wish someone would cook for you?”

I didn’t answer him as Jacob emerged in a doorway down the hall. “Professor Woulfe,” he greeted.

I gave him a warm smile. “Professor Wright.”

Harold glanced between us and snorted, leading me down the hall. We entered the parlour and I took it all in. The carpet, drapes, and sofa were a deep burgundy. There was an abundance of small things that Harold had clearly collected over time—from the sculpted busts, to the vases that sat precariously on artisan tables and cabinets, to the piano that gathered dust in the corner, and the countless drawings of airships that scattered every available surface except the small tea table in front of me. The wall paper was beige and yellow, obscured by countless paintings. I shouldn’t have been surprised that Harold’s home was eclectic.

Louis was already seated with a stack of books and papers at his feet. “Evening,” he greeted without looking up.

“Someone is maudlin,” I observed.

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “The students I have this semester are dimwits. ”

“What are you reviewing?”

“I asked for papers to be written over the summer break,” he said.

“Which was his first mistake,” Jacob chimed.

“I’m reading through them. Some of the handwriting is hardly legible, and for those that used typewriters, the papers got damp so the ink bled. Fucking Scottish rain.”

“Do you need help?” I asked.

“No,” Jacob interjected. “He doesn’t. Don’t ever offer another professor help, Woulfe. It’s the equivalent of you cooking us dinner.”

I was surprised by his sharpness. Louis waved his hand. “He’s grumpy. But he’s also right. And besides, you’re in psychology, not philosophy. You’d fail everyone simply because they believe they can see things you’d deem nonexistent.”

“I would,” I agreed. “That’s called hallucinating. Do you hallucinate, Louis?”

“I won’t answer or else you’ll strap me down on a table and measure my mind with one of your wicked machines.”

“Oh, don’t be absurd. You can’t measure a mind with a machine.”

Jacob and Harold chuckled as I moved to the sofa. I took a seat, and my thoughts turned back to Alec Briar. Why was he so… irritating? Rude?

Why couldn’t I get him out of my mind? Perhaps it was the coldness in his gaze or the casual way he threatened me, but he had piqued my curiosity.

“I have a question,” I said hesitantly.

“Okay,” Harold said. He picked up a bottle of red wine and three glasses and sat them on the table in front of me.

Jacob slid into another chair next to me.

“Alec Briar. What’s his deal? ”

The three of them bristled. Louis even looked up from his papers, a brow shooting up and wrinkling his forehead.

“You’ll have to elaborate,” Jacob said.

“I took a walk earlier and wandered towards the greenhouse. The door was wide open and so I stepped inside. He came out of nowhere and yelled at me to leave. He was a complete arse,” I exclaimed as Harold poured us each a glass of wine.

“Did he threaten you?”

Don’t tell them . I hesitated for a split second, but in that moment, something within me decided that I didn’t trust the three of them. Not yet. “No,” I lied. “He just told me to get out. And he had blood on his hands.”

“Gardening is hard work,” Harold said with a shrug. “Perhaps he cut himself.”

I didn’t like the way he dismissed me. I stiffened in my seat, but Jacob interjected.

“You’re sure you saw blood on his fingers?”

“I did,” I said. “It was just strange. And I have done nothing to him. I’d never seen him before that night at the pub.”

Louis snorted. “I would try not to think too much of him, Woulfe. Briar is notorious for being a well-kept university mystery, but you don’t want to be on his bad side.”

“But why is he so angry? Why is he so… disruptive? If he’s really the Dean’s pet, he doesn’t need to be that way,” I said.

I thought about his threat again.

He’d certainly meant it.

“This isn’t freshman year. He can be rude if he pleases. Your British manners are showing,” Louis said with a shrug.

Alec’s grey eyes flashed through my mind and I swallowed hard. The devil was too damn pretty.

“Avoid him,” Harold said as he handed me a glass of red. “And you’ll be fine. We all avoid him and are fine too.”

I blew out a breath and then swirled my glass, smelling the wine. “Very well then. So, why did you invite me to dinner?”

“Can you not make friends?” Louis asked.

“I can. But I don’t get accepted into the boy’s club so easily unless they want something. And I will not have sex with any of you.”

Harold and Louis both choked as they took a sip and Jacob shook his head. They were all reactions I had seen time and time again, the same sort of blubbering that I’d gotten from my late uncle as well. On some level, it amused me.

It was moments like this I wondered if something was wrong with me.

“That’s not why we invited you,” Jacob said earnestly, exchanging glances with Louis. There was something unspoken there, although I certainly didn’t know what.

“You’re not my type, Woulfe,” Louis snapped. The way the vein ticked in his forehead told me he was angry, but I didn’t care.

“Not submissive enough?” I countered.

“That’s one of many reasons.”

Harold returned and held up his hand. “I would sleep with you, but it would hardly be professional and I am perfectly fine just being friends. Since we’re being blunt.”

“I appreciate your candour,” I chuckled, relaxing just a fraction.

“We genuinely just want to be your friend, though,” he added. “I believe your perspective might be enlightening for us at times.”

I was puzzled by his words and the looks the three of them exchanged yet again. “What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well…” he trailed off right as the maid I’d seen earlier came to the doorway.

“Sir, dinner is ready.”

“Excellent,” Harold said, clapping his hands loud enough that she jumped. “Let us eat.”

“Okay, but you’re not redirecting me,” I said as I stood and followed them.

I wasn’t going to let this go. Perhaps it was the frustration I’d felt building over the week, nerves and anticipation. I wasn’t sure exactly, but I didn’t trust anyone here. Even if they appeared friendly.

Perhaps it was a flaw of mine or perhaps it was just wise. Either way, I wasn’t going to take the time to analyse myself. I followed the three of them out of the parlour and down the hall to the dining room.

Food was laid out, a dinner that was far more exorbitant than I expected for a professor. A bowl of a meat stew with potatoes, carrots and more sat alongside fresh bread, turnips, small sausages, and beans. A plate sat at the centre full of sweet scones and marmalade. It was all too much for the four of us, although perhaps I underestimated their appetites.

The conclusion I’d drawn at this point was that Harold was independently wealthy. Outside of a bar environment, I could see the way Louis and Jacob seemed to hang onto him, although Jacob seemed more reluctant in a way.

Stop analysing them.

But I couldn’t help it. This was why I didn’t have many friends in the first place. I couldn’t turn off the part of my brain that looked for… for what ? Flaws? Illnesses? Incongruities?

“This looks wonderful,” I said.

“It does,” Jacob agreed. “Thank you for hosting, Harold.”

He gave a soft smile, although it withered as he sat down at the head of the table. Jacob and Louis sat across from me.

“So, continue,” I prodded. “What perspective may I offer?”

“You must keep an open mind,” Harold said. “Perhaps Jacob is best to explain as we dine. He seems to favour you. ”

I raised a brow slightly, meeting Jacob’s gaze. But gone was the softness I’d seen before, replaced by an edge that made me feel queasy.

“You’re from London, are you not? The city of dreams and steam,” he began.

“I am,” I said.

“What if I told you the city is full of nightmares as well? And that our world is not what it appears to be.”

He seemed to be waiting for an answer, which annoyed me. “Go on and get to it.”

“I’m just wondering if you’ve ever… heard or seen things.”

The three of them scrutinised me, and I scrutinised them back. “I have heard of things , yes, but all of it is merely rumours. London is supposedly split between two gangs of monsters. I believe it might be split by gangs, but they’re certainly nothing more than human. There is no truth to it.”

“Are you so certain?” Louis chimed.

“And your family… the Woulfe family.”

Alarm bells rang through my mind. “Yes. What about them?”

“I am just shocked that you are so resistant to the idea of there being something… other with their bizarre deaths,” Jacob said. “We don’t know everything about the world.”

“I do not know what you mean,” I said. “And as for my family, all of them are dead for a multitude of reasons that have nothing to do with anything bizarre , nor is it your business.”

“You don’t find it odd that the Woulfe family is all but dead? How can you not believe in monsters, Nora, when that is the state of your line?”

“My line ?” I seethed. “I do believe in monsters, however they are nothing more than humans. I have seen men do far more atrocious things than any mythological creature.”

I was trying to keep my temper in check, but I was quickly losing the fight. Violent thoughts flowed through my mind for a moment, surprising me with their clarity. The knife gleamed next to my plate, clean and untouched. It would be an easy weapon to wield if needed.

“So there are no family secrets?” Harold asked.

There were none. That he even said it made me want to scream. This wasn’t the first time I'd faced such an inquisition, I doubted it would be the last. People always searched for something more in simple truths. The reality was that my family was dead, and that was the end of it. I was already tired of having to fight to be listened to, but to be mocked in such a way…

For them to try and convince me that fairytales existed…

“I do not know what secret you are insinuating, but there is nothing. Monsters do not exist. You cannot sit there and tell me otherwise.”

Louis shrugged. “You would be surprised.”

I scoffed. Was he serious? I looked over the three of them again, bewildered.

They certainly believed in something.

“The four of us are all scientists, logical minded individuals that are here to teach. Monsters are nothing more than the beasts our ancestors whispered about in the dark, trying to scare their children into behaving. Folklore. Fairy tales.”

“Every fairytale has a nugget of truth buried within it,” Louis argued. “They are parables. Monsters, however, are far more than that because they are real and deadly.”

“We told you about the campus deaths,” Harold said. “It’s because this place has monsters .”

“Is that what you think happened to our colleagues then? A monster got to them?”

Their silence was their answer.

I’d had enough.

I wasn’t going to subject myself to this any longer. I didn’t care if it was rude, but it was clear I wasn’t going to be able to be their friend.

The fact that the three of them believed that they could say these things to me and I was just expected to believe it infuriated me on a level I hadn’t felt in a very long time. I stood up from the table. “This is absurd,” I said, shaking my head.

“Nora,” Jacob said softly. “We’re telling the truth?—”

“Stop. I don’t want to hear it,” I said firmly. “This is antithetical to empirical thinking, which I expected to be a basic competency for three professors at a higher learning institution. You cannot sit there and tell me that you believe in monsters .”

“They are real,” Harold insisted. “We know they are?—”

“Give me evidence ,” I argued.

The room fell silent again.

I scoffed. What I was asking for was impossible anyway. I was asking them to provide me with evidence that monsters existed, but anyone that was logical knew that they did not. They were nothing more than a fairytale, nothing more than a bit of mythology or folklore.

I shook my head, completely disgusted that I had made time to try and be friends with them, only for them to try and pull some sort of ploy over me.

I felt like a fool. My cheeks burned hot, my blood boiling.

“Excuse me,” I said as calmly as I could.

I turned for the door, determined to leave and get home immediately. I would pretend this night hadn’t happened, that this day hadn’t either.

Between Alec Briar and the mysterious Hunt , my first week at St. Thorn made me question everything. Why was I going to put myself through years of dealing with incompetent irritable bastards? I had the fortune from my uncle and could fund my own research.

“At least finish dinner with us,” Harold insisted.

“No,” I said. I was already moving, heading through the doorway. A hand closed around my arm and Jacob turned me around quickly.

He grabbed onto my shoulders, his eyes burning and dark. “Please listen to us,” he said urgently. “We are not trying to frighten or fool you, we are trying to warn you and keep you safe. There are things in this place that are dangerous and evil.”

“Get your hands off me,” I snarled.

He held onto me for a moment and then released, stepping to the side. “Stay out of the woods, Nora,” he whispered. “He wants you. There’s something happening that is?—”

“Stay away from me.”

His sad expression sparked guilt. I wanted to be his friend, but I couldn’t handle being ridiculed this way. I rushed out the door and slammed it behind me, going down the steps to my bicycle.

Students passed by on the street, casting curious glances at me. I ignored all of them. I got onto my bicycle and took off down the road. Darkness was following, the shadows growing longer and deeper as I took my ride towards the tower.

That had been one of the most infuriating situations I’d ever been in my entire life. I had never felt so insulted. They thought they could make me believe something that wasn't real. Like I was some woman who didn't have a mind for herself. I shook my head, cursing under my breath as I peddled faster.

What had he meant by he wants me? Who was he ?

Firelight danced through my mind and I felt as though I were being constricted. My lungs burned. “Fuck,” I wheezed, slowing down in the tunnel of trees.

I could barely breathe. My mind felt like it was being stretched thin and I screamed inward, wishing it would stop. Wishing everything would just stop .

I pulled over to the side, still heaving breaths. I shouldn’t have pushed myself that way but the need to flee had been so pressing. I glanced around to make sure I was alone and then plopped down in the grass, wiping away the tears that formed.

Fuck men. I was so tired of dealing with them. I was so tired of being told I couldn’t be who I wanted to be or hearing passive aggressive remarks that related to my sex. I was sick of being the smartest person in the room and treated like I was the stupidest. And I was sick of being studied like a damn bug under a microscope.

“Stop whining,” I scolded myself.

I couldn’t let them win.

A rustle drew my attention. I looked up and went very still.

Across the road, in the depth of the foliage and trees that created the other half of this tunnel, something was watching me.