He turned up the volume, while reversing through the newscast. He stopped at a red banner emblazoned withBreaking News, then let it run. The two anchors wore matching grim expressions, while reporting on the latest from the campus fire. They were intercut with nighttime footage of shining engines and arcing sprays of water. The Old Library lay engulfed in flames.
Duncan glanced over to Sharyn. She stood with a fist clenched to her chest, clearly girding herself.
She knows what’s coming.
A reporter in the field appeared on the screen, backdropped against the smoking remains of the library at dawn. “We’ve just heard from the head of Fire and Rescue. They report one casualty, a body found inside badly burned. An investigation is pending.”
The feed switched to a man in a suit standing before a cluster of microphones. “We are treating this as malicious arson. It appears the fire-suppression system may have been sabotaged or disabled. But more importantly, the body inside shows clear evidence of foul play.”
In the background, someone asked for the identity of the victim.
“Until we can confirm, we aren’t—” The man was interrupted by an aid, who whispered in his ear, and the interview abruptly ended.
The feed switched back to the anchor desk. The newscaster cupped a palm over one ear, likely listening to the control room, then lowered his hand and addressed the camera. “We’ve just received CCTV footage from a camera in the park that might offer insight into the night’s tragic events. Be warned. What we’re about to show is graphic and disturbing.”
Next appeared grainy footage. The darkness reduced everything to muted shades of gray. The view showed the front doors to the Old Library. A cluster of figures appeared, all concealed in robes and hoods. They dragged a man in a dark suit up to the doors. The victim’s face was bloodied and swollen, his arm cradled crookedly to his chest. One of the assailants unlocked the library, and the group vanished inside.
Sharyn moaned, lowering her fist as if in defeat, “No...”
The anchor desk reappeared. “After consulting with the university, we believe we can confirm the identity of the victim.”
On the screen, a frozen snapshot of the bloodied face appeared beside a formal school headshot. It was clearly the same man.
The anchor continued, “Julian Wright was a humanities professor at the university. Latest word from campus security is that the police have cordoned off his office, which was said to have been ransacked...”
The broadcast ran on, but Duncan muted it and turned to Sharyn. “Someone clearly came for the book. First at Wright’s office, then the library. The professor may have lied about it being there. Maybe to buy you more time.”
“But eventually they tortured your name out of him,” Tag said dourly.
“Then killed him,” Naomi finished.
Sharyn backed away, as if trying to deny it all.
Still on the sofa, Archie rested his face in his palms. “What the bloody hell do we do now? We have to go to the police, right? They can’tallbe bad. Not like at the Lemmy.”
Sharyn waved to the television. “What about the deaths at the nightclub? Have there been any reports?”
“Briefly. Deemed a robbery gone bad, timed to the height of the Halloween bash. The area remains locked down as the police correctly suspect the arson attack and nightclub murders are all tied to the same crime spree. But the authorities are remaining cagey.”
A heavy silence followed, weighing them all down.
Archie was the first to move, stirring to his feet, still in a robe and boxers. “Don’t know about you all, but I’m going to make us some brekkie. If we’re gonna be chased or arrested, it’ll be on a full stomach.”
Before he could take more than a few steps, Naomi swore, drawing back Archie’s attention and everyone else’s. She pointed to the television. “Unmute it!”
Duncan turned and spotted the same anchors on the screen. Only between them was posted a graphic of a pentagram. With the remote still in hand, he turned the sound back on.
“—Satanic ritual, according to our source in the field. The body in the library is said to have been found sprawled inside a painted pentagram. With a dagger still lodged in his heart.” The anchor turned to his partner. “Mind you, these reports are tentative, and we await confirmation.”
The other newscaster nodded. “What we do know is that the victim—Julian Wright—was not only a humanities professor at Exeter, but also the director of a new postgraduate program on Magic and Occult Science. According to a police source, this angle is already being investigated, with a person of interest targeted.”
“I wager they’ll be looking to pin his murder on someone in our class,” Tag said. “A Satanic death on Halloween night. The victim, a man who taught witches.”
Naomi looked sick. “Not justanyonein our class. If the professor’s death was purposely staged to incriminate a student, they would’ve targeted someone specifically.” She stared over at Sharyn. “They forced your name out of Wright. They were at our flat.”
Sharyn’s features went pale as she clearly understood. “They could’ve easily planted evidence. And I was the last seen with the professor.” She closed her eyes, moaning a name. “And Ms. Peele...”
Duncan shifted closer. “The head librarian? What about her?”
