Death.
The stench of it coats my skin and fills my nostrils as I look over the dented, damaged foliage. Though the body has been ostensibly removed, the traces remain for those who know how to look. Hell, part of me worries that even an untrained eye will know what happened here.
Dried blood flecks on a few of the leaves and grasses before puddling into the ground. The once-pristine hedgerows look damaged in some undefinable way. As if someone lay in wait before pouncing on their prey.
Brian Philips. A nobody. He’s not even a frat boy trying to come into The Society. How in the hell did he manage to find his way into my hedge maze?
Pulling out my phone, I glance through the various messages. Other than Chase Ackerman who seemingly OD’d on Fentanyl, no one else is missing yet. Yet, being the operative word.
My brows pull down into a fierce frown as I pull up the app keeping me in touch with all the submissives. The last thing we need is a panic, but I know no other way of getting a consensus so quickly.
Master Anderson
This is Dean Anderson. All submissives have one hour to check in. A simple Yes, Sir. is fine.
Pocketing my phone, I make my way through the different paths, breathing in the cool air. Something is wrong. I feel it down deep in my gut. Unfortunately, I can’t put my finger on what it could be. All I know is my university is at risk. More than that, the very fabric of this secret society is threatening to come apart at the seams.
Could this be a sign? A warning? Is someone targeting us?
Not that it’s out of the realm of possibility, but as far as I understand it, we’re at peace with everyone. Things change so swiftly sometimes, especially when dealing in flesh and blood. Until I get to the bottom of it, I’ll be on edge.
The only question I have now is who do I talk to? Who do I tell? As with any secret society, the lifeblood that keeps it going is keeping it secret. If some of my more powerful members think they’re no longer safe... Well, that just won’t do.
Exhaustion slams into me as I run my hand down my face. It was never supposed to end up like this. How did things get so out of hand?
It’s more than just these two deaths. It’s the matter of some of these members as a whole. Scoundrels. The lot of them. Not that I’m all that different, I suppose.
But then, I am different. I have to be. Only, in times like these, the mantle of responsibility is no longer a cloak I choose to wear. It’s now more of a set of chains binding me in place.
“I hear trouble,” a voice grumbles next to me in that unmistakable broken English.
Sergei. Of all the people to show up, it’s fucking Sergei. I guess that means there’s no hiding this from Grigori. Fuck my life.
“Not surprised,” I sigh, glancing over at the newcomer. “What is surprising is why you’re here.”
“Main job keep bitch safe. Can’t keep bitch safe if pacing halls of mansion. Besides,” Sergei’s lips part into a wide grin, showing off his white teeth. “With bitch behaving, it’s more like drips of paint sliding down walls until stuck.”
Chuckling at his iconic butchering of idioms, I look back at the scene and sober. “I’m worried.”
“Yes. You have pinched look about neck and shoulders. Perhaps I bring Ivanka over to give good Russian massage. She makes all screws loose.”
My lips twist up into a smirk as I shake my head. “I think I understand what you’re saying. And no. If I need a massage, I’ll figure something out. No need to inconvenience you or Grigori.”
A silent pause descends between us as we both look about for clues.
Eventually, a heavy sigh slips from my lips as I pin Sergei with a questioning stare. “You haven’t heard anything from Nikolai, have you? Is there any chance he’s at the bottom of this?”
Sergei’s eyes glitter as he cracks his knuckles. “No. I keep close ear. If he becomes threat to bitch, he meets my knives.”
“Then I’m truly at square one,” I mutter, feeling hopeless for the first time in my remembrance.
“No. You are at topiary maze. Unless maze has square?”
A bark of laughter rips from my throat as I lean over and slap my hand on his shoulder. “You know topiary, but don’t know square one?”
He shrugs and shifts about as if my question makes him uncomfortable. “I like horror movies. Especially with Johnny and the axe in topiary maze.” He leans forward with a comically deranged look in his eyes. “Here comes Johnny with the axe!”
“Close enough,” I wheeze, allowing myself to relax a touch as the humor lifts my burden.
All too soon, however, I know I’m going to have to get back to the task at hand. Shaking my head, I kneel down again and look for any sort of clue that can give me any insight as to what happened. As if I’m some goddamn investigator.
I’m not. I’m the fucking dean of Loftry University. I’m the head of a secret society that’s ballooned into something else all together, something almost unmanageable.
But I can’t let anyone else know that. I can’t show any weakness. Especially not now.
Dragging my phone out of my pocket, I look at all the responses as my lips thin. So far, nearly everyone has checked back in. At least it doesn’t look like we have a missing submissive on top of everything else.
“What do I tell Grigori?”
I pull my gaze away from the screen and tilt my head as I glance at the Russian behemoth. “What’s there to tell him that you don’t already know?”
“I know nothing. That’s why I’m here. Is bitch safe on campus?”
A weary sigh flits through my lips as I stand up. “Is anyone? You know better than most the movers and shakers who slip in and out of The Society. Dangerous men and women take submissives and use them as playthings. It’s how it’s always been done. You think a simple bracelet of ownership will keep anyone truly safe?”
Sergei’s eyes narrow as he leans in close enough for the acrid scent of his body spray to wash over me. “Is that threat? Has anyone made cat call or come hither to our bitch? Point the way. They will bleed.” Without so much as a preamble, he pulls out a knife and pops it open with a deadly schnick.
The absolute last thing I need is a bull-headed Bratva enforcer storming around my campus, interrogating everyone. Shaking my head again, I hold up my hands to show him I’m no threat. And honestly, probably no one is really to blame.
We protect our own. It would be foolhardy and down right idiotic to kill someone so close to our lair. It can’t be anyone here. That is, unless someone on the inside is sending a message?
“Chelsea is safe here,” I finally say as I motion toward the remaining carnage. “At least as safe as we can make her. But we need to stay on guard and not let anything get past us.”
“If bitch not completely safe here, bitch school from home. I make sure she’s safe enough.”
“Please, Sergei. Don’t make any rash decisions. Especially not when it comes to her education and social engagements. Chelsea will despise you both if you keep her away from campus.”
“Let bitch hate. Bitch will live. That’s far more important. She’s top stone in boss’s crown. Any hair is harmed, my hair is on the shaving block.”
“Pretty sure you mean your ass is grass.”
“My ass is rock.” Turning, he sticks his butt out toward me and lightly smacks it. “Will take chisel to break this.” After a moment, his smile droops. “Level with me,” he murmurs, all traces of broken English gone. “What is happening here at Loftry?”
For a moment, I can only look at him as my brain tries and fails to make sense of this fundamental shift in him. It’s as if a different person stands before me. Someone far more lethal. But I must be imagining things.
“I wish to God I knew,” I finally admit. “Maybe you should keep Chelsea home. Just until I can get to the bottom of this. If it’s not Nikolai, I have someone else I can call. Let me know if anything changes on your end, and I’ll keep Grigori updated on mine.”
“Da.”
With a turn of his heel, he walks back toward the main campus, leaving me alone with my thoughts. What the hell is happening indeed? Chase’s death can easily be attributed to an overdose, but where he got the Fentanyl is beyond me. Luke would never allow any sort of narcotics or opioids near the fields and neither would the other coaches.
What’s worse is that he’s an honorary member of The Society. We take intoxication very seriously. To play while inebriated is just asking for trouble.
So many questions and not nearly enough answers for my liking. As much as I want to think this is a coincidence, I can’t. One death on campus is too many. Two deaths in one night is unheard of.
Unease drips down my spine as I pull my phone out once more. Thankfully, all submissives have checked in. Switching to a different app, I glance over the attendance list for the major classes. Though it’s typical to have some absences, I’m more concerned with any names that stick out.
As I skim the second sheet, my heart nearly comes to a stop. Marnie. Marnie... Why do I know that name? Pulling up her information, I try to look for anything that might give me a clue.
Based on her phone number, it looks as if she’s from Florida. Though it’s not uncommon to have students from every state and country attend this prestigious university, it is odd for me to recognize someone and have them be from Florida. Thankfully, there’s someone who can settle my mind once and for all.
John Anderson
Do you know a Marnie?
For a moment, the screen stays on read with no response. Just that alone makes the pit in my stomach grow even tighter.
Luke Lannister
...
Do you mean Dupire?
I pull up my other screen to confirm.
Yes.
Yep. I know her. Why do you ask?
Do you know her because of her classes or because of The Order?
Again, the communication stops for a moment. Honestly, that’s really all the confirmation I need. Fuck. I thought The Order was out of our business. Now, here I am again, stuck in the middle of whatever damn issues that secret society has.
She’s not in the order, if that’s what you’re asking. But she’s from my neck of the woods. Is something wrong?
I’m not sure yet. Thanks.
Hey. If there’s an issue with The Order, I can always go down there and settle it.
No way in hell am I allowing him to do that. There’s already been too much death associated with that damned society.
I’ll handle it. Could be nothing anyway. You have Shelaine and the baby to think about.
Got it. I’m here if you need me.
A disgruntled sigh slips through my lips as I pull up my contacts and call the one person I thought I’d be able to avoid for a bit longer.
“John,” Louis, the head of The Order of Ravens and Wolves, growls over the phone. “What do I owe the pleasure?”
“I just need to know one thing. Is there a problem between us?”
“Not to my knowledge. As long as Luke stays up there, everything should be fine. But I’m assuming there’s an issue. Because why else would you call?”
“Marnie Dupire.”
Just like with Luke, there’s a pause. Each breath that expels from his lips and brushes against the phone just cranks up that twist of dread that threatens to turn my insides into a constricted mess.
“I know the girl. What seems to be the problem?”
“We’ve had a murder on campus, and now she’s not in class. It has me very concerned.”
His dark chuckle floods the speaker. “She couldn’t kill anyone. She’s a meek little mouse.”
Irritation rolls down my spine at his attempt at a joke. “I’m not saying she did. But she’s not here and I have a dead guy. Coincidence?”
“Must be. As I’ve said. As long as Luke stays up there with you in New York, my boys will keep to themselves. What concerns me most is that you’ve somehow allowed a student of yours to go missing. But no worries. We’ll keep an eye out for her. Little mice have a way of finding themselves back home. Don’t worry about her for another moment.”
My jaw clenches as I grit my teeth tight enough I’m sure I’ll crack a molar. “I will have your word that you or your family are not here creating mayhem. The Society has continued to keep Luke safe and out of harm’s way. I suggest you keep that in the back of your mind.”
“Are you threatening me, John?” he bites out. “I don’t take kindly to being threatened. I’ve told you we have no issue, but your disrespect will make an issue if you continue to push it. Forget about Marnie. Any collateral damage that might have happened surrounding her has nothing to do with you.”
My knees threaten to buckle as he all but admits they’re all connected. At least I can give myself some plausible deniability when it comes to this murder. He didn’t say they did it, but the way he crafted his words at least gives me the illusion of an answer.
Not that it really helps matters at all. A murder is still a murder, after all. Eventually, I might have to come up with an answer that satisfies other inquiries.
“I’m just trying to keep mine, and technically yours, safe,” I finally sigh as I force tension from my shoulders. “I have to explore any threats to my campus and family.”
“I know that. Which is why I’m going to ignore this interaction. How’s Luke?”
“You could ask him yourself.”
“I’m asking you.”
“He seems to be well-settled. Our track team is thriving. Shelaine and the baby are doing well.”
Again, a heavy pause drags out through the phone. As Louis clears his throat, I can’t help but wonder if he’s shoving down emotions he’d rather not deal with. “Thank you. And thank you again for keeping him safe. I can’t say exactly what happened up there with you, but I personally did not orchestrate it.”
Truthfully, him not giving me an exact name keeps us both in the clear. It just makes sense he’d speak in riddles. No doubt I’d do the same if someone in my flock took someone’s life.
It’s just the way it works with secret societies. He’s told me without telling me. He’s given me enough that I can stop looking at shadows deep within my ranks, and for that, I’ll be forever grateful.
“That’s all I needed to know. And Marnie is safe, right?”
“I’m not a psychic, John. But I can assume she’s being taken care of. Family emergencies can happen, you know. She’s probably back home helping with that. In fact, I’ll put money on it. Don’t give her another moment of your time. Wherever she is, it’s no longer your concern.”
With that, he hangs up, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Unfortunately, the silence doesn’t last nearly long enough. A sharp ping draws my attention back to my phone.
Professor Hastings
You’re going to want to see the first edition of the Loftry Lantern.
An irritated growl hums at the back of my throat as I re-skim the text.
John Anderson
You’re the faculty adviser. You deal with it. Whatever it is. Deal with it. That’s your job.
Thinking the matter concluded, I try to get my brain back where it needs to be and away from that bit of temptation wrapped in a tight skirt, walking on fuck-me heels. As with how today is going, it seems as if I’m not going to get what I want.
Soon after firing off that text, another comes through, one that stops my heart cold. All it contains is an image.
Just one image.
The headline.
That’s all I need to see red.
