The Haunted High Series Book 1- The Wolf Within Me

by Cheree Alsop

  Alden stooped and picked up something that had been lodged between the carpet and the wall. He held up it to the light. It was a shard of glass.

  “Maybe you aren’t going crazy.”

  I took the piece of glass as if it was a lifeline. “This whole floor was on fire,” I said quietly, staring at the shard. “The heat was beating down on us. I felt like my fur was burning. Professor Briggs appeared from out of nowhere.” The words made me remember why I had gone back up there in the first place. I glanced at Alden. “He wasn’t even winded. You’d think if someone had run all the way up the stairs that quickly, he would have been gasping for air. He came from somewhere else.”

  “A hidden door?” Alden guessed, his eyes wide.

  “I think so,” I replied. “I need to find it. I’ve got to get to the bottom of this before I really go insane.”

  Chapter Ten

  “You should be a wolf for this.”

  I glanced at Alden in surprise. He was busy running his hands along the walls near the stairs, checking for cracks.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Your nose should be better. You could smell the air coming through or his trail or something.”

  I gave him an appraising look. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  Alden smiled. “That’s why I’m here, to point out the obvious and make you feel stupid.”

  That brought a laugh from me. “Well, thanks. That’s invaluable.”

  He chuckled and continued searching the wall.

  The thought of phasing back into a wolf was too much, but I took Alden’s advice and stopped searching with my hands and my eyes. I leaned close to the wall and sniffed instead. I felt foolish at first, but Alden acted as if it was perfectly normal. I walked the entire length of the hallway sniffing for anything that was different. I had gone two steps down the stairs when a different scent touched my nose.

  “Uh, Alden,” I called. “I think I found it.”

  He ran quickly to my side, his grin huge at being right.

  I sniffed down to where the crack met the stairs. There was definitely a panel there, wallpapered with the rest to look as though it fit in with the red and cream stripes that lined the staircase.

  “Right here,” I told Alden.

  He followed it to the other side of the narrow panel and ran his finger up the crack.

  “There has to be a way to open it,” he muttered quietly, pushing on several places. “It wouldn’t be of much use if it was only one way.”

  We started feeling along the panel and the frame around it, pressing, hitting, and tapping the surface in the hopes that we could trigger something. But nothing worked.

  Alden finally shook his head and leaned against the opposite wall. “It makes no sense. There has to be a way to open it from here.”

  I stood next to him and crossed my arms to ease the pressure on my ribs. I studied the wall in frustration.

  “What if it opens by counterbalance?” Alden suddenly said.

  He looked up at the ceiling, then moved to study the wall we had been leaning against. I stepped out of his way and watched him move slowly along the wall.

  “There,” he said beneath his breath. He pushed something where I couldn’t see any difference.

  A click sounded. I spun to face the panel as it pivoted inward.

  “You’re a genius!” I told Alden.

  He smiled so wide it amazed me. “I just don’t know when to give up,” he replied.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” I told him.

  I ducked into the opening.

  Alden grabbed my arm before I was halfway inside. “Are you sure we should go in there?”

  I looked back at him. “I didn’t go this far to turn back now.” I gestured toward the unburned hall. “I risked my life up here. I need to figure out what happened.” I gave him an out. “You can head back to our room if you want.”

  He hesitated, then shook his head and stepped into the passage as well. “What if you need help again?”

  I fought back a smile and replied, “Then I’m glad you’re here.”

  He pushed the panel shut. A small squeak escaped him when we were left in darkness. My eyesight shifted to the grays of the wolf.

  “Hold my arm,” I told him. “I can see in the dark.”

  “I’m glad my best friend’s a werewolf,” Alden said. His grip on my arm was tight. He waved the other around. When he touched the wall, he drew his hand back again and made a face. “I don’t like spider webs.”

  I nodded, realized he couldn’t see me, and said, “Me, neither. It looks like whoever uses this passage either doesn’t care about spiders, or feels they might deter students who stumble onto it.”

  “They may have something there,” Alden muttered.

  I led the way forward. The passage turned to follow the stairs, bringing us down one level and then opening up into a wide, low-ceilinged room. Dusty busts, old statues with strange scaled armor, and the bones of several long-legged, clawed beasts I didn’t recognized were covered in cobwebs and dust.

  “What do you see?” Alden asked.

  “Not much,” I replied, keeping us to the center of the path. The less he had to fear, the easier our passage would be.

  “What good is a passage if you don’t keep cool things here?” Alden questioned. “I would definitely make use of a secret tunnel like this.” His voice brightened and he continued with, “We could sneak around the Academy in secret! No one will know how we get places. We could play pranks on Vicken’s coven! They would be so mad.”

  My ribs gave an angry throb at the mention of the vampire.

  “Shh, I hear something,” I whispered.

  I followed the sound of voices to the other end of the long room. Another staircase branched from there. I led us down to a door. Voices spoke beyond it.

  “They caught us unaware. We need better defenses.”

  “What we need is a better offense,” a gruff voice replied. I recognized it as from the man who had pulled me back onto the roof.

  “Not that again,” the Headmistress’ voice said. “You can’t build an army of students.”

  “And remember what happened last time,” Professor Briggs said.

  The gruff voice replied with, “You’re still holding that against me even though you know what happened.” His voice grew louder as if he had turned to face the door. “Fanny, we’re sitting here waiting for another attack instead of taking the initiative. It’s dangerous for the school and the students, as well as every other being alive if they get out. You know that as well as I.”

  When the Headmistress replied, it was with a voice of resignation. “Fine, Mercer. What do you suggest?”

  “The students are stronger than we are,” the man replied.

  “But they’re innocent,” Professor Mellon said, her quiet voice carrying through the door. “They shouldn’t know about these things.”

  “What about the werewolf?” Mercer replied. “He warned us before it was too late. He showed courage.”

  A smile touched my lips before the next voice spoke.

  “No,” Professor Briggs said brusquely. “You can’t involve a werewolf in this. It’s too dangerous.”

  The fact that he referred to me as simply a werewolf with a hint of disgust in his tone gripped my heart in a fist. After our conversations, I felt like we had become friends. The reality that he viewed me the way the rest of Haunted High did felt like a dagger. That, more than anything else, made me shove the door open.

  “I want to be involved.”

  The professors sat in a room so contrasting from the spider-covered path we had crossed that I paused in shock. Thick red carpets lined the floor. The professors sat on gold-gilded furniture that looked well-worn but comfortable. A short table laden with goblets and food filled the room with heady scents that made my empty stomach growl. The lighting came from a crackling fire in the corner, candlesticks hanging from sconces, and a candelabra in the middle of the table. Apparentl
y, they had let Briggs handle the lights.

  Professor Briggs rose from his chair at our appearance. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, his tone thick with annoyance. The scar down his cheek twisted, making his scowl appear even deeper.

  “I helped save those students,” I pointed out. “I ran through a burning hallway and dove through a window that’s now fixed except for this.” I tossed the shard of glass at him. He caught it out of the air and glanced down at it. “Now everything’s repaired like it never happened. I deserve some answers.”

  “Diving through the window was foolhardy,” Briggs said, tossing the piece of glass onto the table. “You didn’t listen, and you put yourself at risk. You’ve been here a few days and already think you know this world. That kind of thinking is dangerous.”

  I was completely caught off-guard by his brusqueness. It put me on the defensive. I crossed my arms. “I’ve been in this world a few days and even though I don’t understand it, I’m willing to fight for it. I think that should count for something.”

  “You’re hot-headed.”

  “I didn’t hear you complain when I dove through that window to save those students,” I replied. I met his glare with one of my own. I had never been so confrontational. I couldn’t explain it, but I also couldn’t back down. “I didn’t see you doing anything to get them out of there.”

  “Mr. Briscoe!” the Headmistress said.

  Professor Briggs held up a hand. “Wait a minute, Fanny. He has a point.”

  Headmistress Wrengold adjusted her spectacles with a white-gloved hand; her mouth closed into a thinly-pressed line.

  Briggs took a limping step closer to me. “You were foolish but brave, I’ll acknowledge that,” he said in a tone that implied the words were hard to say. Then he shook his head. “But you don’t know what you’re getting into. This is over your head.”

  “This is all over my head!” I said, my chest heaving. “I have no idea what’s going on at all!” I willed myself to remain calm. The last thing I needed was to phase into a wolf. I lowered my voice. “I have been out of control since I found out I was a werewolf. None of this is normal. But I am trying.” I met the Headmistress’ eyes. “I’m doing my best to fit in here, despite everyone who’s against me.”

  “No one is against you,” Headmistress Wrengold replied.

  “Of course they are,” Professor Briggs said.

  Everyone looked at him.

  “He’s a werewolf,” the professor continued. “The prejudice since Conrad’s attack is understandable.” He lowered his gaze. “I, especially, have blame where that is concerned.”

  “Which is also understandable,” a female professor I had never met said. She stood near the fireplace, her golden hair reflecting the flames.

  Briggs shook his head. “It isn’t fair to Finn that everyone here already fears him.” He looked at the Headmistress. “If that was going to be the case, we shouldn’t have allowed him here in the first place.”

  “We shouldn’t be talking about this in front of him,” Headmistress Wrengold said. She gave me an apologetic look. “I had hopes that your presence here would change things.”

  “Rescuing students in the face of demon fire should help with that,” Professor Rexus pointed out. He stood on the other side of the fireplace, his bear-like form and thick horns making him look like some creature out of The Iliad. He nodded at me. “It’s a good thing you woke up.”

  It was my turn to look away from their expectant gazes. “I, uh, didn’t wake up. I was in the forest.”

  “How do you know about the forest?” Professor Mellon asked. “We don’t go there this semester.”

  I glanced at Alden, then away. I didn’t want to talk about the beating from Vicken’s coven. I didn’t know how the school politics worked at The Remus Academy for Integral Education, but at my last school, narks paid for snitching. I had survived the beating even if Vicken hadn’t wanted me to. I wasn’t about to push my luck. “I sleepwalked. It happened the first night I was here and I couldn’t find my way back to my room.” I gestured at Alden. “That’s how we became friends.”

  He grinned at me.

  I pressed on. “Last night I woke up in the forest again. I spoke to….” I hesitated. As open-minded as the school appeared to be, I didn’t know how they would react if I said a ghost had told me the school was on fire. But they were listening with full attention and at least appeared to be keeping an open mind. I let out a breath and told the truth. “I was talking to a ghost. Actually, I was in my wolf form, so I couldn’t speak, but she was talking to me. She’s the one who said the Academy was on fire. She heard it from the wind.”

  To their credit, the professors took the news of a ghost who listened to the wind calmly as if it happened every day.

  “Most of the ghosts in that cemetery are older spirits,” a thin professor perched on the edge of one of the chairs said. Her skin looked as though it had been pulled tightly over her bones. When she looked up at me, I swore I could see the firelight through her. “Was it Arnold the Ironsmith or Bailer Ray, perhaps?”

  “He said ‘she’,” Professor Mellon pointed out. She nodded at me encouragingly.

  “Her name is Mezania,” I told them. “She was scared of me the first night because I phased even though I tried not to. This time, she seemed less scared because she recognized….” My voice trailed away at their expressions.

  Everyone was looking at Professor Briggs. Headmistress Wrengold lowered her spectacles with one gloved hand that trembled slightly. Professor Mellon appeared pale as though she had been the one to meet the ghost. The other professors looked from each other to Briggs, their expressions a mixture of sorrow and shock.

  “Mezania?” he repeated, his gaze on the wall behind me.

  When I nodded, he leaned against the couch as though his legs refused to hold him any longer.

  “It can’t be her,” the Headmistress said. “She was buried at her family’s estate. The tombstone in the cemetery was just a marker—”

  “To remember her by,” Professor Briggs concluded in a whisper. “But she listened to the wind.”

  “What’s going on?” Alden asked behind me, his voice quiet.

  “I’m not sure,” I replied under my breath. “I think he knew her.”

  Professor Briggs gave me a pained look. “Mezania Brown was a student here at the Academy. She was killed by Conrad along with others.” He swallowed, then said, “We were close.”

  I remembered the story he had told me about the girl who called his name before Conrad killed her, the one he had called Zanie.

  “That’s why she was afraid of me,” I said. The realization filled me with a combination of horror and sorrow. “She was killed by a werewolf.”

  Professor Briggs let out a breath as if he had been holding it. “Can you take me to her?”

  Professor Mellon gave him a compassionate look. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

  Briggs nodded, though reluctantly. “I need to know why she’s here.” He glanced at Mercer. “With the demon attack, it’s too much of a coincidence.”

  “Maybe someone else should go,” the Headmistress suggested.

  The professor shook his head. “It has to be me.” He met my gaze. “Take me to her.”

  Professor Mantis set a long-fingered hand on his arm. “Not right now, Trace. Classes start in a few minutes.” As if on cue, the bell rang for breakfast.

  I stifled a groan, but several of the teachers gave similar ones, reminding me that they, too, had stayed up all night.

  “How am I to teach those rascals about death chants when I can barely keep my eyes open?” the skeletal professor asked.

  “You think you have it bad?” Professor Mellon replied. “We’re on the chapter about pixie tongues. If I mix up the a’s and e’s again, we’re going to have some very disgruntled pixies.”

  Professor Rexus shook his massive head. “If my students come away identifying griffins as hippogriffs, this whole p
lace is going to fall apart.”

  Headmistress Wrengold placed a hand on Brigg’s arm. “She’s been there this long,” the headmistress told him gently. “She’ll be there tonight. Ghosts appear easier in the light of the moon; it’ll take less energy from her.”

  Briggs hadn’t taken his gaze from mine while the professors argued whose class was harder to teach without sleep, but at her touch, he started. She took her hand away. “Fine,” he gave in. He speared me with a stern look. “But we go tonight.”

  “I’ll be there whether I’m asleep or awake,” I replied, trying for humor. When he refused to acknowledge the joke, I fought back a sigh and said, “Tonight for sure.”

  He limped from the room without a backwards glance. The other professors followed behind, still debating which class was the most likely to pay for their long night.

  “A dragon’s cuboid is very easily confused with a minotaur’s,” Professor Tripe was saying in the same monotone voice.

  “Yes, but if they get it wrong, at least yours won’t cause a possible interspecies war,” Professor Mellon replied.

  Alden elbowed me in the ribs. I winced at the surprisingly painful jab.

  “Sorry,” he whispered. “I forgot.” He indicated the professors as they left through the door. “But can you believe them, arguing about whose class is harder? They sound just like us.”

  “They were you, once.”

  We both turned at the sound of the Headmistress’ voice.

  Alden’s pale cheeks turned red. “Sorry, Headmistress Wrengold. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

  She looked amused instead of upset. “Don’t worry, Mr. Grim. You didn’t say anything offensive, you merely pointed out the truth. Back then, when Conrad attacked the students and the professors, most of the teachers you know were students just like you.” She gave a sad smile. “I’m proud of them, of all of us. The Remus Academy for Integral Education almost shut down after the werewolf attack, but they helped keep it together. The older ones took the place of professors who had either been killed or left, and the younger ones encouraged students to return. They fought for this place.” She gave me an approving look. “As you volunteered to fight for it now. It won’t be easy.”