“Yeah.” He shook his head, taking his hand from under mine. “I have to go.”
Without preamble, the three girls he was with stood, readjusting their clothing and tossing their hair before they started walking. Logan moved his table slightly, squeezed out between the two tables and followed. He didn’t say another word, didn’t look at us again, and didn’t bother to look back. I watched as he put his arms around two of the girls and strolled out. I wasn’t sure what was worse—having him sitting beside me, being rude to Max or watching him leave with those girls while my heart felt like it was cracking a little. It was stupid, of course. So, so stupid. I obviously had a crush on him, but I shouldn’t care what he did or who he did it with.
“Well, that was eventful,” Max said, breaking into my thoughts.
“Yeah.” I blinked at him. “I’m sorry. He’s obviously a mean drunk.”
“I don’t think it’s that.” He chuckled. “He obviously likes you.”
“He was on some sort of orgy date. He left with them and I’m pretty sure they’re not going to go home and talk about the food.” I glanced over at their table. “I don’t even think the girls had food.”
“Orgy date or not, Fitz likes you.” Max shrugged. “And all I can say is, be careful.”
“Because he’s a player?”
“Eh, I mean, yeah, that too.”
“Uh oh, are you going to bring up a Reddit form you read?”
He laughed. “I should’ve never told you I go on there.”
“Hey, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve ended up there once or twice.” I shrugged, still smiling.
“I can’t even tell you the things discussed about him on Reddit because it wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“Women have wild imaginations.”
“Actually, I think a lot of them are men.” His eyes crinkled as I laughed. “Either way, I’m staying mum about that. If he finds out that I’m the reason you’re not giving him a chance, he’s going to beat me up and not answer any of my questions for the paper,” he said. “You know what is on Reddit though? New Lana Ly stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?” I sat forward in my chair.
“More conspiracies. There’s a rumor one of the secret societies is using girls as sacrificial lambs.”
“That’s far-fetched.” I scoffed. “I’m sure the cops would’ve caught them by now.”
“True.” He shot me a look. “Like I said, conspiracy.”
“Who did the cops question, anyway?” I asked. “They’d said they had a suspect.”
“If you ask me, the suspect thing was all bullshit. They arrested some guy from around here, Deacon somebody, and let him go after twenty-four hours.” He shook his head. “They should’ve been questioning other people.”
“Like who?” I finished my sangria.
Max stayed silent for a long moment before finally meeting my gaze. “Definitely Fitz. Logan Fitzgerald.”
Chapter Thirteen
There was another envelope in front of my door when I got home. I picked it up quickly, looking from side to side, as if someone was going to run out here and snatch it, or worse, snatch me. I walked inside quickly, locking the door behind me and tearing the side of the envelope. This time, the card had a post-it on it that read: TOMORROW. THIS IS NOT A REQUEST. The instructions were the same otherwise. A drawing of an octopus tentacle on the front with the words: YOU’VE BEEN SUMMONED. On the other side: 900 Stewart Avenue. 12 am. It was ten o’clock now. Tomorrow. It wasn’t that I was inclined to go to random places by myself at that time of night, but I wanted answers. Why’d they keep sending this to me, and why did my brother have one that looked like a credit card, with a series of numbers in the back and his name etched in the front? I looked at the one in my hand again and decided I’d go. The only thing I had planned tomorrow was the orientation I’d missed when I was back home visiting Lincoln.
* * *
The wind picked up as I walked, and I wrapped my coat tighter around myself. It was way too early to be walking to campus. Too dark, too early, and too cold, especially without the cup of coffee that I had to forfeit because I didn’t want to be late. Now, I had a killer headache, my chest was tight, even after four pumps of the inhaler, and I was grouchy. I pushed the button at the crosswalk and shifted from foot to foot, waiting for little walker to appear on the other side, alerting me that I could cross. Loud cawing got my attention. I glanced at the park across the street, my eyes on the perfectly dark shapes of the sycamore trees. The cawing got louder. I kept staring, wondering where the birds were. I couldn’t see them from here. A church bell rang in the far-off distance, and suddenly the birds flapped their wings. A murder of crows lifted from the tree branches, leaving them bereft of shapes, and began to fly in my direction all at once. There seemed to be hundreds of them, thousands. I held my breath, held my coat tighter, as if it would somehow shield me from their attack. I crouched, on instinct, holding both arms over my head and shutting my eyes tightly. When the cawing quieted, not much, but a little, I peeked over my arm. Some of them were still flying around, but most seemed to be perched on the electric wire that hung from one street light to the next. The crosswalk gave me right of way. I stood quickly and jogged to the other side, heart pounding in my ears.
By the time I reached campus, I was grouchy, scared of birds, and reaching for my inhaler once again. There were about twenty people standing around, definitely freshmen—I could spot their overzealous yet self-conscious stances from a mile away.
“Is this the tour?” I asked.
“I hope so,” the guy said, “We’ve been standing out here for fifteen minutes and it’s cold as fuck and early as fuck.”
A girl wearing a gray sweater vest over a black long sleeve T-shirt walked over and waved her hands up.
“I’m Sandra, your tour guide.” She smiled brightly. “Follow me as we begin our walking tour through campus. Needless to say, campus is huge so I’m only showing you this portion today.”
I’d anticipated an orientation with her pointing around at different buildings and showing us things on a map. I didn’t think it would be a walking tour, a thorough one at that, but I followed along anyway. This was my last chance at a group orientation and I wanted to take it. Even if I learned something like, how to get from the Plant Science building we were walking into to the library in under twenty-minutes and without an Uber, I’d call this a victory. Sandra spoke about the architecture of the school, and how the original building, Old Stone Row, with arches and limestone trimmed arches, was built in a style called Second Empire. She moved on to talking about the library, and The Tower attached.
“Is it true people have meetings in that tower?” someone asked, interrupting her. My eyes nearly popped out of my head. That was what Hailey had told me.
“I don’t know,” Sandra replied. “That’s a rumor.”
We walked down a flight of stairs in the Plant Science building, and she announced she was showing us an underground tunnel.
“This was originally built to help science students transport things from point A to point B without losing parts or spilling things along the way. We now use it to walk between buildings without having to go outside when it’s freezing out,” she said, smiling. “One point if you can name another university with underground tunnels.”
“Northwestern,” I said quickly.
“Concordia,” someone chimed.
“University of Minnesota,” another added.
“Okay, geez.” The tour guide laughed. “My last tour was impressed because they thought we were the only ones.”
“Your last tour was full of idiots,” one guy muttered.
A few people chuckled. I felt my lips tug into a smile as I tried to contain my own laughter. As we moved through the tunnel, the guide added, “I bet you didn’t know that some of our secret societies have their own tunnels.”
My ears perked up at that.
“Where are those?” someone asked.
“It wouldn’t be a secret if I went around telling everyone.”
“But you know where they are?” someone else piped up.
“I have an idea, but I haven’t gone to search for it,” she said.
“Why not?” a few asked, again in unison.
“I guess I’m not the exploring type.” She stopped walking, her expression serious as she turned to us. “Besides, I’ve heard stories of people who have gone looking and . . . well, they haven’t returned.”
Her statement echoed through the tunnels, vibrating off of the walls and boomeranging back into us. There was nothing but silence after that. We finally reached an exit. The cold wind smacked into us as we walked outside. Sandra headed the flock and stood in the center.
“Did you know we have our own zip code?” she asked.
“Yes,” everyone replied.
The campus was huge. So huge that I probably wouldn’t be able to explore it all in one year. Lincoln had once told me he hadn’t seen half of it and he’d been here four years.
“Tell us more about the secret societies,” someone said.
“No. I don’t think I’m getting any sleep tonight after the disappearing thing,” a girl added. “That’s not a joke, you know? Lana Ly is still missing.”
“I know as much as everyone else knows about the societies. Most of them are prestigious, as is to be expected coming here.” The tour guide smiled, clearly unwilling to go down the rabbit hole where the disappeared girls were concerned. “They do a lot of work in the community, donating money and goods anonymously during Thanksgiving and Christmas to those in need. Beyond that, I don’t know much.”
“Do you know anything about The Sphinx?”
“Only that they’re no longer around,” she said, “But, did you know Carl Sagan bought the building they used to meet in? He turned it into his writing cave slash house. I believe it’s privately owned now.”
“Probably by another secret society,” Nightmare Girl muttered, shuddering. Some people laughed.
“Or maybe by family members,” Sandra responded.
I decided to break off from the tour at that point. I’d had enough with the disappearance talk, secret tunnels, and the house that Sagan bought. I was walking home when I got a text message.
Unknown number: I know what happened to your brother
Me: WHO IS THIS?!
*No response*
With shaky hands, I pressed to call, and again, it said the number was no longer in service. Anger swept through me and the urge to throw my phone in the middle of the street rose. Instead, I breathed in and out and dialed my mother. She answered on the first ring.
“You’re up early.” Her voice was flat.
“I was in orientation,” I said. “How’s Linc?”
“The same. They’re studying the wavelengths in his brain right now. He has things attached everywhere.” She sniffed. “I would’ve sent you a picture otherwise.”
“But he’s going to be fine, right? He’s going to get out of this and be fine,” I said, trying to sound cheerful.
“That’s what the doctor is saying.”
“Then that’s all that matters.”
She sighed into the phone line. “How are you holding up?”
“Fine.” I shrugged, even though she couldn’t see me.
“Are you eating?”
“Yeah.”
I was. Probably not as much as I normally ate. My clothes were beginning to fit a little loose around my hips. It wasn’t something I’d tell her. Normally, it would’ve been something mom would’ve celebrated, but under the circumstances, I couldn’t imagine she’d care.
“You need to do college things, Amelia. Meet friends, go to parties. Live. Please don’t let this ruin your experience.”
I scoffed. “My brother died, mom. It’s not like this was a minor thing that happened.”
“I know, honey, but promise you’ll try.”
I thought about the weird texts and the cards I’d received and promised her I’d try. What was I going to try to do? I wasn’t sure. Hopefully, find out answers and not get myself killed in the process.
Chapter Fourteen
My knee was bouncing incessantly as the Uber pulled up to the address I punched into the GPS. When I looked at the map on her phone, I only saw the water that surrounded us. We were literally at the top of a huge waterfall. On one of the gorges. Outside the window, I could see a structure. It was Carl Sagan’s former place—evidently the freshmen on the tour were as smart as they said they were. The secret society definitely owned this place or at least had access to it, assuming it was a secret society that had invited me, which, it had to be.
“This the place?” she asked after a moment of me just sitting in the back of her black Altima.
I nodded. “Can you give me a second, please?”
“Sure, sis.” She eyed me in the rearview. “I don’t know what you’re doing here and it’s none of my business, but I wouldn’t feel right with myself if I didn’t tell you this is creepy.”
I nodded and offered her a small smile as I scrolled through my contacts and clicked on Travis’s profile. Was it weird to send my ex-boyfriend, whom I hadn’t spoken to at all in well over a month, my location? Yes. Was it weird that I was being dropped off in the middle of nowhere at a structure that sat on top of a waterfall in the absolute dead of night? Hell yes. Therefore, texting my ex-boyfriend my location was the least weird thing about all of this. I took a few deep breaths and gave myself a little pep talk: I can do this. I’m doing this. I’m doing this.
“Thanks.” I opened the door and looked at my driver. “And thanks for waiting for me to get my act together.”
“No problem. Remember to five-star me. If you make it out alive.”
As soon as I stepped out of the car and shut the door, she drove off. My heart jumped to my throat. If I made it out alive? Who said things like that? I stared at the rear lights of her car, wondering if I would’ve just driven off after dropping off a woman alone here in the wilderness. Probably not. My phone buzzed with a phone call and I looked down to see Travis’s face staring back at me. I answered it, grateful to have one moment of comfort.
“Why are you sending me your location?”
“Because I’m in a creepy place and I didn’t know who else to send it to.”
“You can’t do this, Mae.” He sighed into the phone. “You agreed that once you broke up with me and left, you wouldn’t play games.”
“Games? I’m not playing any games. I just need a friend right now, okay?”
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Why is it so loud there?”
“I’m by a waterfall.”
“Waterfall?” He seemed on alert now. “Where the hell are you?”
“Ithaca Falls.” My lip wouldn’t stop quivering.
“Why are you there? Are you alone? Is that why you sent me your location?”
“Yes.”
“Goddammit, Amelia. Why are you there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. I could picture him pacing up and down his bedroom. “Does this have something to do with Lincoln? Promise you’re not going to hurt yourself, Mae.”
“What? No. Oh my God. No,” I said sternly. Did he think I called him because I was contemplating suicide? It was rather cocky of him to believe I’d make him my final call.
“What happened? Is everything okay?” The question came from a woman in the background.
Suddenly, his cell phone was muffled, probably by his shirt, as he said something. It was then that I realized how stupid I was being. I wanted comfort and the first person I thought to turn to was my ex-boyfriend, who had clearly moved on, not that I could blame him or cared. I’d chosen to come here by myself at this time of the night and I needed to grow the hell up and accept that nobody was going to come to save me.
“I shouldn’t have sent you my location.” I wiped my face. “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t—”
“Just ignore it. I have to go.” I hung up before he could say another word.
I walked slowly toward the wooden door. With the Uber gone and no street lights, it was pitch black out here. I brought a hand up and held it in the air, taking a couple of deep breaths in hopes to gather the courage to knock. I was already here. And it was dark, which I didn’t like. And I wanted answers about Lincoln. Maybe they were the ones behind the creepy texts too. It was that thought that made me tighten my fist and pound the door with the side of it three times.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
The door creaked open slowly. It smelled like incents, the kind I’d only smelled at Sunday church, or when my crazy Mexican grandmother decided she needed to cleanse a new property my parents acquired. I had a clear view of candles scattered all over the floor, the only thing giving light to the otherwise dark house.
“Hello?” I stepped inside, looking for someone behind the door, but it was empty. I walked toward the center of the room. “Hello?”
The door shut loudly behind me. I jumped, heart pounding wildly as I whipped around, looking for whoever shut it. There was no one there, or more likely, I couldn’t see them in the dark.
“This isn’t funny,” I yelled out, wrapping my arms around myself as I walked forward, looking up at a big circular window that covered the entirety of the center of the ceiling.
It had the perfect view of the stars. I was almost at the center of it, surrounded by candles on either side of where I stood, when four tall figures cloaked in black gowns from head to toe stepped into view. I rocked back, my feet nearly stumbling over themselves as I tried to give myself distance from the people before me.
“We didn’t intend for it to be funny,” one of them said.
“What do you want?” My hands shook. I clasped them in front of myself.
“What do we want?” He chuckled. “It’s more a question of what do you want?”
Half-Truths: New York Times Bestselling Author Page 10