Chapter 50

Bayla

I would love to be with Julie and her cute golden retriever puppy, whose soft fur Grace loved to use as a pillow for her head when she watched her series about female prison inmates.

That's how quickly pets became tools...

The dog was immediately named Buddy by Larissa, to which only I objected.

"That's not a dog's name..." I had told her.

In any case, the name hadn't really been creative. But you couldn't argue with Larissa. If that were the case, I'd be snuggled up in my bed with a good book right now and not out here snooping around the university director's office in this storm.

The moon was shining brightly, but that was of little use to me because it was still pitch black.

The room was surprisingly large, and the gigantic windows reminded me of those in a castle.

Larissa had simply thrown me into the lion's den. All I needed was scary piano music, and I wouldn't be able to control my fear.

I was in the office of my English professor, who was also the university director and one of the Copelands, which didn't make my situation much better.

Grace had warned us about the Copelands yesterday, even though the excuse about the drugs had been really bad . Larissa did not believe that for a second, I was sure of it.

Knowing that Professor Copeland was one of those hairy beasts made my goosebumps break out again. I hated knowing all this. It scared the shit out of me at that very moment.

I slowly walked across the wooden floorboards of the large room.

The ceiling was very high, and I wondered what the room had originally been built for. Had this always been a university?

Suddenly it became brighter.

I stopped and stared in horror at the candles in the room, whose flames gradually lit up.

What the...

I blinked. Once. Once more.

This wasn't normal. Nothing in this town was normal.

I tried to ignore the dimmed candlelight and kept walking.

My gaze fell on the two-step stone staircase that led down to seating and a fireplace decorated with stone serpents.

Of course. Snakes everywhere. Ornaments everywhere. The building had many unusual mixes of architectural styles. But everything at Vanderwood University radiated a certain glow, something almost mystical and fairytale-like.

To the left and right of the room, the walls were decorated with green exotic plants and bookshelves, as was the wall at the end where I was standing.

The candlelight shone on the bookshelves, which contained numerous first editions.

Just like in this witch's house, my curiosity grew, and I walked around the solid oak desk with its velvety emerald green armchairs and the dark-brown leather office chair on the other side. Everything looked so classy, almost antique and yet in good condition.

I stroked the covers.

Of course , they were classics that everyone must have heard of. Middle March by George Elliot or Bleak House by Charles Dickens . But other, lesser-known works by authors I hadn't heard of before also immediately caught my eye.

Tack.

I glanced at the door, where a clock was hanging, which suddenly began to play a soft melody. The hands of the clock showed me that it was already midnight.

The candles flickered and cast far too large shadows through the dim office.

As if it wasn't ironic enough to be searching for student files in an old building at witching hour, I could hear a wolf howling in the distance.

I felt woozy, so I tried to focus on the mission to get out of here as quickly as possible. And as long as Larissa was out there, I shouldn't worry.

My eyes fell on the large desk.

Come on, Bayla, where would you put the student files if you were a professor?

I pulled the first drawer.

It was locked.

"God..."

The one underneath was open, but only filled with elegant pens and quills, as well as countless inkwells.

I was fascinated by the professor's aesthetics. That immediately gave him a sympathy point on my list, because in the age of cell phones and throwaway pens, who still wrote with quill pens and ink?

However, the minus point came for the next closed drawer.

I pulled out my cell phone to text Larissa to come in and do her job, but she didn't answer.

This girl was always on her cell phone, and right now she wasn't responding.

I sighed.

A low whistle, accompanied by a breeze, made me glance around. The windows here were definitely not completely airtight.

I quickly pulled the nearest drawer. With success. A row of files came into view and I pulled the drawer out further until its entire length was touching the bookshelf.

Wow , I wanted a desk like that.

Second sympathy point for Professor Copeland.

I read the little labels that stuck out. When I read the dates, I knew I was in the wrong place.

1960 to 2000. I was unlikely to find Julie's mysterious admirer there.

I pushed the drawer back into its holder with a crash and squinted.

"Damn!" I cursed as quiet as possible.

Why did old things always have to make so much noise? Larissa was probably wondering if I was taking the professor's office apart.

I hurried to get to the other side of the desk without tearing anything off the table, and pulled out the bottom drawer.

Perfect . Also, files. Up-to-date ones this time.

I searched for the year, then our year. A little overwhelmed by all the files, I sat down on the floor, but immediately regretted it, because a terrible creaking sound rang out underneath me.

My eyes fell on the black dividers between the years, which on closer inspection were not dividers but entire files. I pulled out our year's. Sports courses and leisure activities. Jackpot!

I didn't have to browse for long before I found what I was looking for. Quickly, I took a photo of the football team list with my cell phone.

Now let's get out of here.

I pushed the file back into its holder and closed the drawer. Then I straightened up.

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

I looked around, caught off guard, and swallowed hard when I saw a dark shadow standing in the doorway. As he quietly closed the door behind him, more candlesticks and the chandelier on the high ceiling illuminated the entire room, bathing the walls in a brighter, albeit dimmed, light.

Professor Copeland...

"I..." I started, trying to talk my way out of it, but he raised his hand.

"We all have our secrets..." he said, and it seemed to me that an amused smile played around his lips.

He crossed the office and poured an auburn-colored drink into one of the crystal glasses on an antique cupboard next to a chest of drawers.

"It almost seems like life is coming back to these old walls after a long time. Young men fighting, female students looking for things that shouldn't be their concern."

He looked at me and sipped his drink. The warm light illuminated his handsome face, making him look younger than he probably had to be to run such an institution. The flickering candles cast a moving shadow on his emerald green satin vest.

"And yet, appearances are deceptive... Every time anew."

He motioned for me to come to him, and I obeyed.

How had I not heard him come in? And how had he seen that I had been at the sports files?

The professor held out a glass to me, but I refused.

"I'm only eighteen," I said, trying to process that my English professor had offered me a drink.

"I can make you a year older if you want," he laughed, one of his slightly longer hair strands falling into his forehead.

Professor Copeland strode over to the couch and gestured to the other side, which made me sit down opposite him.

He himself went to the fireplace, where he lit the fire and looked thoughtfully into the flames for a moment, as if he saw something specific there.

Grace had told me that many Senseque were afraid of fire, but that the intensity of this fear depended on the strength of the creature.

"You're not afraid of fire."

The professor laughed softly and sat down opposite me.

"Everything is controllable."

I said nothing, just stared at the blazing flames of the noble fireplace as he did.

"So, you are a Quatura?" he asked, propping his elbows on his knees.

It sounded less like a question, but I decided to be polite and answer him.

"I don't think so... How do you know, Professor...?"

"Oh, please. Call me Alarik. These formalities are not for me, especially not outside of my classes, Miss...?"

He looked at me questioningly.

"Adams..." I stuttered a little sheepishly. "But I prefer the first name, too."

By now, I had lost my fear. For whatever reason, the professor was still here at this hour. It must be some kind of wolf thing . Nothing frightening at all...

He looked at me in surprise.

"Adams? Is that your mother's name?"

I hesitated.

If I found out anything else about her that I didn't know, I would probably have to confront her again. But she would most likely close up and lie to me, as usual…

"Yes, why?"

The professor smiled.

"And so, our paths cross again." He looked at the fireplace, lost in thought, before drinking from his glass as if he needed it badly, and finally looked at me as if I'd escaped from the zoo.

In the end, he laughed, shook his head, and leaned back.

"Diana Adams has a daughter..."

Curious as to how he knew my mother, I watched the man.

"We were in the same year, your mother and I." He took a sip of his whiskey, then looked at me again. "She was such an ambitious researcher. Molecular biology."

He seemed to remember her really well.

"You don't seem that enthusiastic about science? What was your name again?"

"Bayla," I helped Alarik out. I didn't hold it against him because his seminars hadn't taken place that often.

"I'm more of a literature type," I admitted shyly.

Alarik looked at me with a friendly smile and nodded. "Then you've come to the right place."

He turned the glass in front of him in his hands, leaning his elbows on the backrest, and rested his leg with his calf on his other knee. With a nod, he pointed to the shelves filled to the ceiling.

"Tell me, what do you like to read?"

Don't say Jane Austen. Just don't say it Bayla....

"Jane Austen."

I gave a shy smile and brushed one of the strands of my shoulder-length hair back behind my ear.

Instead of laughing like the others always did, he stared at me in puzzlement.

"Did I say something wrong?"

I knew I hadn't said anything wrong. Maybe he just thought her books were bad and was disappointed in me.

He was still staring at me.

"You just remind me a lot of someone."

Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

"I hope these are good memories."

A soft smile filled his face, then that thoughtfulness again.

"Sometimes it's the best memories that can make us sad."

I immediately sensed the pain behind these words.

My question had been too personal. However, Alarik didn't let it show. Instead, he stood up, placed the glass on the table and walked to his desk, stepping around to the many books.

I was jealous that he had so many first editions, including ancient books, that must be damn expensive.

Longingly, I bit my lower lip.

"Let me show you something."

He bent down and reached further down the shelf. Then he came back with a dark blue-bound book, which he placed on the table in front of me, and sat down again.

When I saw a golden dragonfly on the cover, I held my breath. It looked exactly like the print on the secret box the old woman had sold me at the market.

Curious, I read the title: The Dragonfly Society .

I searched for an author, finally picked up the book, but couldn't find a name anywhere.

"Who wrote it?" I finally asked.

"A good friend of your mother's and mine."

I looked up in astonishment.

"There was only one edition, which is why there are only seven copies in existence."

I found it impressive that he had contact with the author, just like my mother.

"My mother knows this person?"

As I looked up from the beautifully decorated leather cover, Alarik stared into his glass.

"You know, a lot has happened since then." He took a sip before his strained gaze lingered on the book, and I saw his expression relax a little.

"I want you to read the book and tell me if I'm the only one who's so fascinated by it."

I nodded in awe, because if there were only seven copies of it, then what I had just held in my hands was something very special. And the fact that my English professor lent me this copy was more than an honor. Especially after I had broken into his office.

"By when... do you want it back?"

He laughed. "We'll see each other for at least three years now. I think that will be enough time."

I thought about telling him that I would be leaving in a month's time, but decided against it. I would certainly have finished the book by then. So, I just nodded.

"One question... Alarik," I began, but hesitated. "How do these candlesticks work?"

As far as I knew, he wasn't a sorcerer... Or was he? "You're a hybrid?"

Alarik Copeland laughed in amusement.

"There are no hybrids." He smiled again. "And if I, as a man, were one of you, that would definitely make me special."

"Why?" I asked with interest.

Alarik seemed to be patient with all my questions. At least someone who wanted to answer them for me.

"Have you ever seen a male Quatura?"

Grace, Julie, their family, my mother... They were all... female.

"I didn't even know they existed until three days ago."

He looked at me for a moment before saying, "Diana must have had her reasons..." His gaze slid to the fireplace, where the flames blazed high and made the stone snakes on the mantelpiece frame shimmer. "And I think I would have done the same."

I looked at the flames again.

Everyone acted like this life with all these superpowers was a burden. Maybe that really was Mum's reason. After all, there was a cult you had to join and the risk of dying wasn't exactly small either.

"Where were we? Oh, yes... Anyway, the chances of a male Quatura with elemental powers being born are 1 in 1000."

So, there were no hybrids and only a few males of these Quatura...

"So, almost only girls are born?" I wondered aloud.

"There are also boys born, but they are almost exclusively ungifted and have to be sent away by their families."

First of all, Professor Copeland was a fucking encyclopedia. Second, he knew quite a lot about the Quatura, although as far as I knew, he wasn't even allowed to have anything to do with them. And third, couldn't I have just been born a boy and everything would have been fine? Because deep down, I knew Mum wouldn't have given me away anyway. And maybe it would have even stopped her from moving here with me, to this bloody hole, full of wolves and witches, Latin curses and cults.

"And to your first question... All these lights here..." He gestured around the room with his hand. "A Quatura has stored some of her energy in here."

I immediately wondered if my mother could do something like that. And if so, how? How did this elemental crap actually work?

"You should go now. It's getting late." Alarik looked outside, where the storm was still raging. "I'll take you. I have to go that way, anyway."

"It's okay," I declined gratefully and rose from the soft leather cushioning, but Alarik insisted.

"You shouldn't be out anywhere alone at this time of night. Especially not in Blairville ."

"He didn't!" Larissa exclaimed, looking at me in amazement.

"Yes, he was actually really friendly and open-minded."

Larissa grinned. "You're so lucky that you like books. If I'd been him, I'd have thrown you out of there in a heartbeat."

"I'm sure it wasn't because of that."

I pretended to be offended. I probably would have been if I'd gotten out of there on my own and Larissa hadn't been there. She hadn't yet told me how she'd got back to the accommodation and why she hadn't warned me beforehand.

"So, we know who his favorite student will be."

"Larissa!" I gave her a warning look.

"Who's going to be whose favorite student?"

Grace and Julie sat down behind us. It had taken them a little longer to get ready, and Larissa and I had left before they did.

"Professor Copeland has lent Bay a book."

"What!" Grace looked at me in shock.

I avoided her gaze.

No matter what kind of enmity they had with the Copelands, it wasn't my problem. I would soon be out of here. And until then, I would convince Larissa to come with me.

"This was supposed to stay between us," I said, turning to Larissa.

"Whoops."

Nothing whoops . Now, Grace and Julie probably thought I was hanging out with the werewolves. I could hardly believe it myself, but the professor at least seemed all right.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen."

Alarik came a little late, like the first time, rushing down to his desk in the stair-like lecture room and dropping his thick file folder on the tabletop with a crash. A few loose sheets of paper fell out and sailed to the floor. Some of them had brown coffee stains on the edges.

Alarik's hair was a little messy, and today he wasn't wearing a vest, but a blue knitted sweater over his white shirt, the collar of which was slightly creased.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, clearing his throat, and a few of the guys around Nash laughed and began to whisper.

Nash himself was busy on his cell phone again.

"And I'm sorry I wasn't there the day before yesterday. I'm sure you all missed me a lot."

He grinned, and it reminded me of the way Julian always did.

"Hardly..." Nash sighed, visibly pleased.

Alarik looked at him for a moment. He seemed as if he was considering saying something, but didn't.

Instead, he continued. "I've prepared a project for you."

"Great, this is going to be fun," groaned the brunette guy from Nash's group of guys.

"That's right Noah. You'll have to spend some time on it, but a little more dedication wouldn't hurt."

Alarik went to one of the more modern lockers and opened the door. He took out a large box, which he set down in front of Emely with a clatter.

She also seemed unimpressed and looked with mistrust at the box.

Alarik pulled out a black book and placed it in front of her. Then he went on and handed out the same books to the guys.

"What are we supposed to do with a notebook?" this Noah asked, flipping through the empty book.

"That's exactly what I want you to ask yourselves."

Alarik put one down in front of Nash and pulled the cell phone out of his hand.

"Hey!"

"You'll get this back after the ninety minutes."

Nash snorted and took the notebook in his hands.

When Alarik finally reached us, he placed two books in front of me and Larissa. Then he gave me a friendly look and went back to his desk.

I could feel Larissa's grin from the side.

"You've been given blank pages. I want you to do something with them."

"He really thinks we're creative..." the brown-haired DeLoughrey laughed from the very back.

I noticed Adrian staring in our direction, but when he spotted my gaze on him, he too turned his attention to the book in front of him.

"Indeed, Miles."

The professor smiled encouragingly in the direction of the troublemaker with the undercut man bun, who turned the book back and forth, his eyes rolling.

For a moment, the werewolves stared at them tensely, and I knew they were trying to ignore the fact that the DeLoughreys were here too.

"This is not just any book. Think of it as a gift from me to you," Alarik continued.

"Great gift," exclaimed one of the other guys next to Nash, whom I didn't know.

"Can you guys shut up now!" Vivienna sounded annoyed, as usual.

Nash looked at her, slightly tense and probably wondering if he should respond to her, but Alarik spoke up before anything could happen.

"There's some food for thought I'd like to share with you." He held up the notebook. "Books are meant to connect." He glanced around the room and stopped briefly at me. "Books serve as a means of communication between at least two parties. The sender and the recipient. Also known as the author and the addressee."

I picked up the notebook and felt the black leather and the golden metal edges. It seemed to be of high quality.

"That's why I want you to find a partner with whom you can design the book together. How you do that is entirely up to you." The gleam in his eyes almost showed how enthusiastic he was about his own idea. "As always, it's not compulsory, but it might inspire one or two others."

A groan went through the group of guys. I looked back at Julian, who was looking thoughtfully out of the window into the courtyard.

"And now let's get on with the classics."

Alarik pushed the book aside and started talking.

Maybe I should tell Mum about the strange conversation with the professor...

I would spend this weekend with her, and maybe I should use the time to do something with her, push away all the resentment and get my mind on other things. Maybe there would even be an opportunity to talk about her past and perhaps find out more about her teenage years.

I wondered if the professor's words last night came from a longing for the old days. The days where Mum had also gone to university here.

And suddenly, there was something melancholy about sitting here, walking through these halls. As if I were part of something bigger.

Mum did have a life here. Perhaps even a very nice one.