The road winds through the town, past shuttered storefronts and darkened houses. My breath comes in quick, shallow bursts, my mind spinning with questions. The air is thick with the scent of damp leaves and autumn chill.
The car turns onto a more open road and begins to accelerate. I can’t run any faster. My chest burns. The Audi pulls away from me with ease, speeding into the night. I slow down, trying to catch my breath in the frigid night air. Even though I can’t see them anymore, I try to keep up a steady jog as I follow the road.
I have a sinking feeling that I know exactly where they’re going.
I trust my instincts and keep moving. The night is eerily still. The gnarled trees lining the road are covered in dark birds, silent and watching. The yellow moon hangs low in the night sky.
As I round the final bend, my destination looms into view.
The university.
My stomach tightens.
A pair of heavy iron gates stand open, as if waiting for me. I slow as I pass through them, keeping to the shadows. Finally, I come to a stop and bend at the waist, hands on my knees, gasping for oxygen. My breath fogs in the crisp night air.
But there it is. The Audi is parked directly in front of the entrance to the grand, ivy-covered building.
I straighten up. Although this is what I suspected, I still don’t have a clue what’s going on.
I’m still hugging the shadows, but no one is around. They must have already gone inside. I take a steadying breath and then sprint across the university lawn.
19
The university towers over me, dark and foreboding. The building is all sharp angles and soaring spires, not unlike Van Tassel Manor. Its dark stone walls are streaked with age, and ivy creeps up the side like skeletal fingers. Gargoyles perch along the roofline, their weathered faces watching me with strange, empty eyes. Tall, arched windows give away nothing of what’s going on inside.
The whole place hums with a heavy presence.
What the hell is going on? Why has Ichabod been broughthere?
When I reach the main doors, they’re locked tight and won’t budge. I press my hands against the thick wood. I’m sure Ichabod is inside. There must be another way in.
I look up at the sheer walls, searching for an opening. There’s nothing on the front of the building. Carefully, I start to circle around to the side. At this hour, the university feels abandoned, but I know there must be at least a few people inside.
Around to the left, I finally spot a small window cracked open on the ground floor.Bingo.
Bracing myself, I hook my fingertips over the edge of the window and hoist myself up, feet scrambling to find some purchase in the ivy. Once my feet are on the windowsill, it’s easier, but I’m still breathing hard as I wiggle through the gap and land with a soft thud on top of a metal cabinet.
For a moment, I just lay there, catching my breath. Slowly, I start to take in my surroundings. The room is dimly lit from the open window, but the sharp smell of cleaning products burns my nose, and I suspect I’m in some kind of caretaker’s closet. As I lower myself to the floor, I start to question what I’m doing. I still have no plan. I’ve broken into a university, and I might not even find anything.
Why am I even here? What does the university have to do with anything?
Well, I certainly won’t have any questions answered by lingering in here. I cross the small room in a few steps and press my ear to the door. I can’t hear anything outside. Thankfully, the door handle turns easily. I take a deep breath and step out into the corridor beyond.
When I step into the hallway, I hear the first scream. It sounds like Ichabod. His voice echoes down the corridor, raw and desperate, each shout slicing through the stillness of the university’s empty halls. I turn towards the sound and start running, my footsteps beating a frantic rhythm against the lacquered floor.
I don’t know where I’m going, I’ve never been here before. The air is thick with chalk dust, making it hard to swallow. Ichabod cries out again, and I use his voice to guide me through the labyrinth of corridors.
I skid to a halt outside a set of double doors.
I hesitate.
Suddenly, I’m not so sure I want to know what’s on the other side. But Ichabod’s shouts tell me he’s in trouble. I steel myself and push the doors open.
And stop dead in my tracks.
I’m looking at what I assume must usually be the university’s food hall. Long, wooden tables are pushed up against one wall and a shuttered hatch takes up most of the other. But everything has been pushed aside, leaving a large open space in the centre of the room. It’s scattered with red candles, their flickering flames casting distorted, writhing shadows against the vaulted ceiling. Wax drips down onto the flagstone floor, pooling like blood.
Three men stand in a semicircle facing me, robed all in black with hoods drawn low over their faces. They startle at the sound of the opening doors, and I can just make out their faces in the flickering candlelight. I don’t recognise two of the men, but the man in the centre is my father. He stands rigid, his expression unreadable.
