THROAT below the first word.
SLT(?) below that.
WINSTOS on the back wall.
HEL to the left.
BURN at the top.
And interspersed among all the letters was the number 1. Written over and over again.
I shut my eyes tight. “I’m tired,” I whispered. “I’m just seeing things.”
That was certainly more believable than the other option—that the last person who took a shower in here wrote a bunch of nonsense in the condensation. Not likely, seeing how the staff cleaned all the rooms at the end of each semester.
There was another option, though. One I didn’t want to think of.
That someone had broken in and written words on the door to scare me. That someone didn’t want me here. Someone who wanted to scare me so badly I’d leave. Strauss? Or maybe it was Rose Oswold. Ellendale? Maybe he’d bribed one of the RAs to open my room. He certainly hadn’t made a secret of his disdain for everything I was doing here.
But that was ridiculous. Right?
I stepped out of the shower and toweled off. “I’m just tired.”
Bear wasn’t in the room. Max had started taking him with him when he drove back to the farm, said he liked the company. Bear seemed all too pleased with the arrangement.
I got dressed quickly, my movements jerky and nervous despite the pep talk I’d given myself. I yanked a comb through my hair, scanning the room every few seconds. I finally gave up and bolted out the door, jiggling the handle to make sure it was locked.
I looked up and down the hall to make sure there was no one there.
I was alone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“You’ve got a visitor,” Vern said around noon. Max came in, ducking his shoulders, a guilty half smile on his lips. You couldn’t stay mad at him, and he knew it. He nudged a small, plastic-wrapped item forward like a golden retriever apologizing for eating your favorite shoes. “Brought you a cookie.”
I crossed my arms.
“I’m really sorry about last night,” he said quietly. “What I said—I put my boot in my mouth. I wasn’t there for you back then, when you needed me. And I can’t take that back, but I swear, Cella, if something were to ever happen to you, I wouldn’t survive it.” He looked at me, his eyes a sharp cerulean, and my stomach did a little somersault. There it was again, that feeling of familiarity, of home. The feeling of his hands around my waist, that little jolt whenever we touched. The knowledge that I always knew what he was thinking, and he knew me, too. Knew all the secrets I tried to hide, all my insecurities.
And he knew exactly what sweet treat melted my cold, dead heart.
I unwrapped the plastic around the chocolate chip cookie and took a bite. “It’s good,” I said begrudgingly.
He beamed that classic Max grin, all blinding white teeth and dimples. “I picked the biggest one they had.” He caught my gaze and held it. “I want to figure this thing out with Dani, too. Because you’re right. Something happened to her, and we owe it to her to get to the bottom of it. All the stuff with us, and the past, is …”—he took a deep breath—“Dani. That’s the most important thing.”
“Well …” I slid him a pile of texts and took another bite. “If you’re going to be here, I suppose I might as well put you to work.”
He grinned. “Way ahead of you there,” he said sheepishly. “I drove to Rose Oswold’s old school this morning. And woohwee, the admins there sure love to gossip. You were right about her. Turns out she was fired for … drumroll please … casting a hex. Looks like dear old Rosie has a pattern of getting too close to her students, and things don’t go too well when they don’t return the sentiment.”
I chewed the soft bits around the cookie, savoring its sweetness. “I found something, too.” I recounted what I’d overheard this morning with Robetresse and Strauss.
“Robetresse probably told her not to come within a mile of here. Strauss, too,” he said.
“We could look up the hex she cast, see if there are any similarities with the one on Dani. Then the council would have to listen.”
Max nodded. The lines in his face were even more pronounced, black stubble shadowing his jawline. “I’ve been thinking, too. I want to go back and talk to Grant.”
“What makes you think he’ll talk to us?”
