Change Of Season (38 page)

“See Autumn, when I did my investigating, I realized there was either a tremendous number of coincidences or a curse.  Now, I can’t prove any connections between each student, which is why I don’t lay it all out there on my blog.  I don’t want to get shut down or deal with a lawsuit.  All I know is that there has been a female student that has run away – or died – every two years from this campus since 1999, always in winter.  They all have red hair.  They’re all pretty in that natural way – not caked with make-up, I mean. Six girls, on a schedule – that is, until this past winter.  I have no idea why.”

Autumn felt her stomach turn as she stared at the smiling faces on the table.  There was an undeniable pattern here:  appearance, time of year, spacing…  He was right.  Casteel Preparatory Academy was cursed.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” he said softly, shuffling his pages back into a stack.  “But I’ve done my research.  I wouldn’t set out to scare people on a whim.  Something is seriously wrong with this school.”

“I have red hair,” she whispered.

“I noticed.  I can’t deny it freaks me out, especially given your residence situation.”

A curse.  She was yet another predictable number in a line of seemingly troubled students who were lost and never seen again.  If
he
managed to find her and drag her off into the night, would this guy blame the ghosts, too?

“I can’t stay much longer,” he said, tucking the large envelope back into his bag.  “I prepared a summary for you of what I know – names, dates, that sort of stuff.  If you have any other questions, you can email me, okay?”

He passed her the thinner envelope and she took it hesitantly.  It felt like a passing of a torch.  Her turn to run.  Her fingers fumbled absently with the open flap as she nodded.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, even if under shitty circumstances.”  His ball cap and hood back in place, he slid his arms into the straps of his backpack and opened the door of the study room.

“Wait!”  Autumn blurted out.  “What’s your name?”

He smiled, shaking his head.  “Sorry.  It’s Ben.  Guess I skipped the niceties.”

Autumn shrugged, feigning nonchalance.  “It’s fine.  Thanks, Ben.”

She watched him leave, still stunned by the revelations of their brief discussion. 
There’s a pattern of girls disappearing.  Girls who all look more like me than I’m comfortable acknowledging
.  Veronica wouldn’t be back for another six hours, give or take.  Autumn would have to try and process this alone.

A nap sounded like a brilliant solution.  Sleep away the hours of lonely panic and recharge her brain.

Tucking the envelope into her own bag, she rose slowly, mindful of the dizzy spells that were a constant now.  She’d head back to the dorm, tuck into bed and pretend she didn’t have six sets of eyes staring at her, cutting to her core.  Crossing through the maze of shelves, retracing her steps as best she could, she finally found the stairwell to the ground level.  Her grip was tight on the rail as she descended – insurance against a nasty faint and fall down the nine concrete steps. 
Just a few minutes and I’ll be warm in bed
, she told herself.  Even walking was tiring now.

A sigh.  Heavy, burdened.

Autumn spun around just quickly enough to notice the flash of crimson dart behind a set of shelves to her left.  Frowning, she edged closer, staring intently. 
Probably someone’s coat
, she reasoned, shaking her head. 

A book fell to the floor with a resounding
thud
.  Another flash of red.

Not my concern.  It’s nothing.  You’re jumpy because of the meeting with Ben.
 

A chill gripped her then, her body trembling as icy air seemed to move past her.  There were no windows nearby.  A whisper in her ear, melancholy and feminine:

“
Look
.”

Her feet moved of their own accord, left then right and repeat.  She clung to the strap of her bag, prepared to strike out at whoever was lurking behind the shelves.

You can’t hit a ghost
.

Her heart lodged in her throat, Autumn peered slowly around the corner of the first shelving unit.  Nothing there.  This was absurd.  She was exhausted, hallucinating.  That’s all it was.

Another sigh, closer now.  The next aisle over. 

Eyes wildly darted around, seeking signs of life and finding none.  The stacks were packed with tomes, obscuring any view from the safety of the opposing aisle.  If she wanted answers, she’d have to obey. 
Look
.  Her bag slapped lightly against her thigh as she edged around the corner. 

It was Nikki – she couldn’t deny it.  Her doppelganger stood at the other end of the aisle, her skin cast in a grayish pallor.  She wore her uniform, the blouse untucked on one side, socks slouched down and revealing what appeared to be bruises on her knees.  Her hand gestured downwards as she stared at Autumn, nodding slightly.  A large book lay open on the carpet, a single page torn and left crumpled near Autumn’s feet. 

“Why?”  It was all she could manage.

She pressed a finger to her lips, demanding silence.  Autumn obeyed, frozen as the spectre turned around, slipping around the corner and out of sight.  The balled page taunted her.

Did she dare touch it?

A final sigh drifted down the aisle, growing distant.  Nikki was gone; she sensed it in her gut.  What remained was this vandalized book, one she’d been eager to share with Autumn.  A message? 

I have to know.

Bending over, Autumn gingerly picked it up, her free hand gently unfolding the paper.  It was soft and thin, like a dictionary page, and as she unfolded it, she understood it to be something similar.  It was a drawing of the human heart and lungs in frontal view, incredibly detailed and shaded in red and blue.  Crouching down, she flipped the book closed, confirming her hunch: 
Gray’s Anatomy
.  Veronica had never mentioned Nikki showing an interest in medicine.  Why had she chosen this book, this image?

Footsteps nearby shattered her reverie and she immediately jammed the page inside the envelope, picking up the heavy book and shoving it on the closest shelf.  Dizzy with the sudden motion, her hand shot out to steady herself against the stacks as a familiar face came into view.

“Miss Brody.” 

“Professor Grant.  Hello.”

His voice dripped with disdain and she immediately struggled with the urge to curse him out. 
I don’t need this right now.  I don’t need him right now
.  Still shaken from her encounter with Ben and Nikki’s latest trick, her patience was a very thin thread.

He said nothing at first, simply stared at her, scrutinizing her.  Her skin crawled as his head cocked slightly to the left, his attention unwavering. 

“Looking for remedial aid?” he asked at last.

Remedial… oh. 
This had to be a Biology section.  Of course the pretentious bastard assumed that she was struggling with his class. 
Careful.  Don’t piss him off
.

“No.  Just doing a little research for a Creative Writing assignment.”

She fought the urge to cover her breasts with her arms or draw her coat tighter.  What the hell was his problem?  Why couldn’t he just go away?

“I see.  You could ask me for guidance, being as I have a doctorate degree in Biology.”  He stepped closer, glancing at the shelves beside them.  “
Gray’s Anatomy
is also helpful, if you’re concerned with human functions.”

She swallowed hard, her hand instinctively patting her bag. 
Did he see me?  Does he know?
  Undoubtedly Logan would have a field day with vandalism charges. 

“I was researching feline anatomy actually, but I’ll remember that.  I have to go but I’ll see you in class.”

He nodded silently as she edged backwards, spinning around and darting through the aisles towards the exit.  She could feel him memorizing her ashen face. 
What was he even doing in there
?  Safely outside, she hustled across the quad, buoyed by thoughts of the lock on her room door. 
Creepy prick
, she thought angrily, swiping her FOB on the reader and storming inside Ashbury.  She’d have to study twice as hard tonight.  She could see another class of constant questions in her future.

But first
, she thought wearily,
sleep.

***

A bag of popcorn shook in her face.  “Eat!”

Autumn groaned.  “I can’t stomach it right now, V.”

Veronica sighed, her hand slipping inside the paper bag and tossing white blossoms into her mouth with a crunch.  Her head tilted as she examined the pages strewn on Autumn’s bed.

“Okay, the resemblance is freaking me out now.”

“Thank you!” Autumn tugged absently at her hair, shuffling the pictures into order.  “Ben’s face when he heard what room I was in? Gave me chills.  He thinks I’m cursed, I know it.”

“I don’t believe you’re cursed,” Veronica gently rebuked.  “But shit is definitely strange.  My hands are greasy as hell.  Read me through it?”

Autumn nodded, tossing Veronica a stack of napkins from her desk.  “So, working backwards, here’s the timeline:  Nikki was found in 2009 after a fire on campus in another building.  You know the weird there, so we’ll move on.”  Holding up the next picture, she continued.  “Alyssa Patterson went missing in 2007.  Ran away from campus, as best anyone knows.  Ben says it struck him as being off somehow.  Out of character.”

“Like Nikki,” Veronica interjected softly.

“Yeah.”  She studied the next picture in her hand.  “Leigh-Anne Blackwell, 2005.  Ran away after telling people she would.  Again, Ben says no one’s ever heard from her again, but given her threats to bail, why would that be shocking?”

Crunch
.  “Still, she looks a lot like Nikki.  And the two years apart deal is creepy.”  Veronica gestured to the next photo.  “What about her?”

“Cindy Rames.  Only twelve.  Ran away shortly after the start of semester two, 2003.  Not a natural redhead, but kept her hair dyed bright auburn.  Her parents recently divorced, according to Ben’s notes.  No trace of her either.”  Autumn shook her head sadly, setting the image aside.  “She looks so sad…”

“Maybe she hated her new living arrangements?” Veronica suggested.  “Still, the world’s harsh.  I can’t imagine anything good came of her being on the streets.”

Autumn grimaced.  “Too young…  Anyway, continuing our dreary line-up, Anne Linehan.  Went missing during Reading Week, 2001.  Seventeen years old, juvenile delinquent, according to Ben.  Had a boyfriend supposedly in Montreal.  Likely ran off to be with him.”

“Makes sense.  She’d be legally able to quit school.  Was she French?”

“Grew up in Quebec City.  Definitely could disappear into
la belle province
.  Last one:  Rachel Bateman.  Disappeared February 14
th
, 1999.  No explanation.  Rachel suffered depression, but was a loner.  No boyfriend, no friends at home.  Kept to herself, according to her files.”

“Can I just say right now that Ben’s snooping into the psychological files is so not cool, even if he had a reason?” Veronica chimed in.  “I know he meant well, but we have no business knowing that Rachel was depressed and friendless.”

“Agreed.  But how else would he find out about a student from twelve years ago without upsetting people?  Kind of a Catch-22.”

Veronica sighed.  “I suppose.  Still not cool.  So there’s six students missing, all redheads in one way or another, and all but one ran away.”

Autumn scanned the summary Ben typed for her, flipping the page.  “Yes… Wait, no:  there’s a seventh one, but it was in 1980.  He didn’t have a photo for her though, since he learned of her after graduation.  Notes I should check the yearbooks.”

Veronica rose, stretching her arms overhead.  “I could use a walk.  Library?”

Autumn shrugged.  “We’ve got thirty minutes.  Can we pull it off?”

Veronica laughed. “Who cares?  We’ll sneak back in if we have to.”

“Good point.  Let’s do it.”

On the short walk across the quad, their heads haloed by their breath, Autumn continued to read through the pages of notes.

“V, there’s something else here.  All of the six since 1999 were in the Behavioural Reform program.”  Autumn handed the pages over to her friend.  “See?”

Veronica hummed, scanning the text as their feet sloshed in muddy grass.  “Mmhmm… Yep, you’re right.  Damn, that’s fucked up.  Aren’t you-”

“Yes,” Autumn answered abruptly.  “I’m so not sleeping tonight.”

Veronica frowned.  “I’m staying over with you, then.  You shouldn’t be alone, not with a burden like this.”

Autumn forced a smile, pausing at the library entrance.  “You’re a good friend, Veronica.  Really.  Without you to listen, I don’t know what I’d do these days.”

Veronica shrugged.  “Isn’t that what friends do?  Listen?”

“Sometimes.”   Heather was a lost cause, it seemed, and even Miraj was angry each time they met.  Fed up.  With a shake, she held open the door.  “After you, wifey.”