‘I think they’re back. Here. At Cambridge.’ I did my best to keep my voice low, like his, but I was so excited it was hard tostay controlled.
He threw another apprehensive glance over his shoulder, but other than the barman, who showed no interest in us, and a handful of people chatting in the corridor outside, we were alone.
‘June Owens and Paulina Gallagher,’ he replied, as if that was an answer.
And in a way, it was. ‘It’s a pattern, isn’t it?’
He took a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabbed his mouth, but still I saw his lips twist. ‘Listen. There’s a reason why I never named them outright. A reason why I kept my research unofficial.’
‘You’re frightened.’ It wasn’t an entirely new thought–it had crossed my mind as I considered the reasons why someone would deliberately withhold information. But even so, I was surprised. This was a grown man, a famous name in his field, wealthy, educated, influential. Why would someone like him be afraid of a few students?
He lowered the handkerchief, fingers trembling, and gave a strained smile. ‘Because I’ve got common sense.’
‘Okay, but I’m scared, too. My best friend has got herself mixed up with them, and I don’t want her to be the next to—’ Ibroke off, my throat so constricted that I couldn’t get the words out. ‘I have to figure out what’s going on. I have to stop them.’
His features softened with compassion. ‘You can’t fight a forest fire with a watering can.’
‘I’ll call in a water-bomber if I have to.’ I took a deep breath and leant in closer. ‘Please. Just tell me what you know. I promise I’ll never mention your name. Whatever you tell me, it stays between us.’
He was silent. A woman next door gave a shrill laugh, and the barman landed a glass onto the countertop with a clunk. I didn’t even dare to blink. This was my only promising lead after a string of failures, my last chance this year to find out something that might give me hope that the next one would be better.
At long last, the professor sighed and tucked the handkerchief back into his jacket pocket. ‘Very well, but… if you want to know what I’ve discovered over the years, you’ll have to keep an open mind. My research has taken me in a somewhat unorthodox direction.’
‘How do you mean?’
He slid his thin wire-framed spectacles down his nose a little, peering at me over the top. ‘Are you a spiritual person, Miss Golding?’
I frowned, puzzled. ‘My best friend reads me my horoscope a lot, does that count?’
‘Not quite the direction I mean.’ He smiled, although there was a deep, almost hypnotic gravity in his eyes. I couldn’t look away. ‘There are legends, you know, legends that involve this university. Myths circulating about it and its members.’
I found myself blinking several times before I understood what he was hinting at. ‘And by myths you mean… something supernatural?’ The word sounded as incredulous as I felt, and perhaps even a little mocking.
He was unperturbed. ‘Well, that depends on your definition. Science tends to be a little rigid when it comes to what’s considered natural. I personally believe that there is far more in this universe than we can explain by means of logic and reason.’
‘Like what?’
He folded his hands on the table, twisting the wedding ring on his finger with intense focus. ‘Like what… Well, let’s imagine we have a student society. Its existence has never officially been proven, but clues keep popping up all over the place. Have been for more than a century, actually, at various universities across the country. And not only that. When we look at some of the most influential areas of our society, we find that certain positions–powerfulpositions–are repeatedly linked to this society. We’re talking influential ministers, successful business moguls, prominent lobbyists, developers, visionaries. What would you say if I told you that, sooner or later, these people always seem to vanish from the surface of the Earth, and always in the same way?’
I swallowed hard, my whole heart in my mouth, thudding, thudding, thudding. ‘They die?’
Professor Edwards tilted his head slowly from side to side. ‘That’s one possible interpretation.’
‘What—’
‘Garrett!’ The voice was so abrupt that it made me jump. A woman in her sixties was standing in the doorway, waving in our direction. Judging by her flushed cheeks, she was several glasses deep into the mulled wine.Go to a Christmas party and you’ll realise professors aren’t God almighty, they’re just people too, as Zoe liked to say. ‘So here’s where you’re hiding, we’ve been looking for you! Come on, I need your help in an argument I’m having with Thomas.’
‘Just a minute.’ He smiled until she had gone away again, then gave me a nod. ‘Please excuse me. This isn’t the right place for this conversation anyway. I’m going to London tomorrow morning, but I’ll be back in mid-January for a couple of days to clear out my office. Make an appointment through the faculty admin.’ He hesitated, then leant in towards me. ‘And don’t mention this to anybody. It’s in both our interests.’
All I could do was nod and say thank you. My mind was in a whirl, and the only word I could latch on to properly wassupernatural.
If I told Davie, he’d never be able to stop laughing. And itwasridiculous, really, even to consider the idea. The group was strange, sure, but they were just people. Students with too much money and influence, too easily bored. A dangerous mix, but hardly worthy of a fairy tale. What was Professor Edwards trying to imply? That a bunch of snobs were going around sacrificing people in tribute to some ancient god?
I shook my head, turning away from the table as the professor reached the door. My eyes went instinctively to the person standing on the opposite side of the corridor. Just outside the door I’d opened earlier.
Between Blake and myself were yards of air, dim, reddish light and several people chatting in the hallway, yet I knew we were looking straight at each other. I stiffened, seeing his eyes drift left–to where Professor Edwards must be standing. I didn’t need to see Blake clearly to know he’d recognised him. To know he knew.
My lungs tightened, making it hard to breathe. The weight of the moment flooded through me like tar, and I couldn’t fight my way through. Before Blake could look back at me, I ducked left and opened the second door out of the room. I found myself in a narrow passage, where some steps led upwards. I didn’t stop to think, just grabbed the banister as quickly as I could and hurried up the wooden staircase, my heart clattering almost as loudly as my feet. I’d just reached the first-floor landing when I distinctly heard a creak from below. I knew what door it was, of course–I knew who’d opened it and who was coming up the stairs behind me. With a calm but determined tread that only spurred me on.
