by Cynthia Kuhn
Tad was thoughtful. “I don’t know about any meetings, but there is an underground tunnel on campus.”
“It’s not just a rumor, then?” Nate leaned forward eagerly. “Does it link all of the buildings?”
“I don’t know,” Tad said. “But Crandall and Randsworth are definitely connected. My dad took me through once when I was young. We didn’t go into any of the rooms, but I still thought it a fabulous adventure at the time, like exploring a catacomb.” He snapped his fingers. “Oh, I also remember him telling my grandfather—also a Stonedale professor emeritus—that some controversial matters were being handled circuitously. In fact, he emphasized the word so much that I looked it up afterwards. At the time, I thought he meant there was a way to maneuver politically outside of meetings, but perhaps he meant there was a circular room where secret meetings were being held.”
“That’s got to be it.” Nate elbowed me.
I nodded and asked Tad if he knew about any secret societies on campus.
“Just fraternities, sororities, and honor societies. That sort of thing. Is that what you mean?”
“Those are known. I’m talking about clandestine groups.”
“No.” He seemed genuinely baffled.
“Does the Briar Rose Society ring any bells?”
“Like in the folktale, where the woman is sleeping?” Tad asked.
“That’s the one,” I said. “‘Little Briar Rose.’ It’s a variant of ‘Sleeping Beauty.’”
“No, sorry.”
Nate and I exchanged a look. I didn’t know what he was thinking, but I was considering the ways in which sleep sometimes figures metaphorically as death in literature. Was the Briar Rose Society responsible for the murders? That was an idea worth investigating.
“Is there anything we can do for you?” Nate asked Tad.
“My dad’s team of legal eagles has descended upon Stonedale County Courthouse, so that’s covered. But in the meantime, if you hear anything…”
“Consider it done,” said Nate.
The following Tuesday, I ran into Nate by the department mailboxes in the main office. I beckoned him over. We’d talked for a long time after visiting Tad, and we both thought it was likely the society was behind the campus attacks. We had agreed to come up with plans for action individually.
“Do you have a plan yet?” I asked him.
“No,” he said. “Wait, yes I do. We should tell the detective what’s going on.”
“I can’t,” I said. “If Calista’s a member of the society, then I would be turning her in.”
“True,” he said. He pulled papers out of his mailbox and squinted inside to be sure he had gotten them all. “But if she’s a killer, shouldn’t she be turned in?”
“She’s not a killer,” I protested.
He tucked the papers into his bag, not saying anything.
“Can you meet me for coffee this afternoon?”
He shook his head. “No, I have advising appointments.”
“Then I’ll just tell you my plan now. Let’s see if we can figure out what’s going on at those meetings. We could hide in the room where the books are stored tomorrow night and listen. I still have the key.” Although I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to do less than go back downstairs in the dark, I couldn’t see a way around it.
His eyes lit up and he pointed at the basement. “Oh, you mean—”
“Yes. I don’t know if they always meet at the same day and time.”
“Let’s find out,” Nate said, decisively. “I’m in. Meet you in the stairwell at…when was it?”
“It was around six.”
“Six? That doesn’t seem like a very dastardly time to meet. I would have guessed midnight.”
“Maybe they don’t think anyone would bother them in their hidden location.”
“You mean in their evil lair.”
I shot him a look. “Anyway, let’s try to meet at quarter after five. I don’t want to run into anyone else down there and—”
“Blow our cover?” He winked.
“Sure,” I said. “Though I think we technically would need to have a cover before it could be blown.” His lightheartedness was contagious, but inside I was afraid.
“Should I bring binoculars?” He was really getting into this.
“You can, but since we’re going to be listening through a vent that doesn’t open, all you’d see is the floor.”
“Got it. But if this doesn’t provide any answers, I’m going to Archer and telling him everything. It’s just too dangerous around here.”
I nodded.
He readjusted the strap of his backpack slung over one shoulder and gave me the little salute he favored. It was charming, as usual. “Talk to you later,” he said loudly over his shoulder as he left, as if to throw off any eavesdropping bystanders.
Later that evening, I had reached the final paper in my current grading pile. This student clearly hadn’t yet grasped the importance of a specific introduction, given that his essay began, “Since the dawn of time, great literature has been written.” I could tell this one was going to require extensive commentary, an activity that necessitated a careful balance between encouragement and correction. Deep in the grading zone, I was startled by the sound of my cell phone ringing.
“Lila? It’s Nate. I’m sorry to call so late, but I wanted to make sure we’re ready for tomorrow.”
“Yes, but…how do we protect ourselves? We aren’t just exploring an empty tunnel. We’re putting ourselves in the proximity of an unknown number of people who meet to do who knows what. It’s not like the symbols are showing up in positive situations. It’s probably not safe.”
“Accurate on all counts.” He paused. “But you won’t be alone—and you can take some comfort in knowing that I regularly work out.” He chuckled. “Right?”
His levity steadied me somewhat. “Yes, but—”
“I’ll bring some mace too,” he said. “Just in case.”
I had no experience with weapons and wasn’t sure if it would be better to bring something to protect us or to leave it behind. What if someone took it away from us and used it against us? The whole idea of violence made me queasy.
We said our goodbyes and I forced my attention back to that vague and rambling essay, wanting to restore at least some kind of order to the universe, however small.
I spent the night tossing and turning, worried about what would happen in the basement, and the next day passed in a blur. As a result, I didn’t hear much of the chancellor’s endless PowerPoint presentation on the university’s plan for taking over the academic world, which called mostly for faculty to do a lot more work for the same amount of money. Or, as he called it, “Ten Steps to a Superior Stonedale.” It was a bit of a shock when the overhead lights came back on. We all blinked sleepily before remembering to clap for the presentation, though most of us were probably applauding for its completion, not its content.
I had fifteen minutes until the rendezvous, and anxiety simmered just below the surface. Beneath the table, I unfolded the handwritten note I’d found in my mailbox after class and read it again: “Change in plan: Randsworth instead. Same time.” I was glad Nate had realized that if we were lurking around at the bottom of the stairwell in Crandall, we might run into people going downstairs. It was much wiser to approach from the opposite end of the tunnel, now that we knew it went all the way to the other building. I’d chosen my wardrobe carefully this morning—dark clothing and flat shoes. If I had to run, I’d be prepared.
Finally, the mentor meeting was adjourned. I said goodbye to Judith and went to meet Nate at the appointed spot. The basement stairwell was empty, thankfully, but I still descended slowly, trying to be stealthy. No one was down there yet. As I waited near the doorway, I tried to ignore the tingle of apprehension ascending my spine. Perhaps I shouldn’t be
standing around in the light like a giant target.
After ten minutes, Nate still hadn’t arrived. I was going to have to do this without him if I didn’t want to run into anybody in the hallway. I pushed through the fire door and crept carefully down the dark corridor towards the place where it curved, hoping the door of the circular room was closed enough for me to sneak by and get into the storage room without being seen. As I paused to pull the key out of my bag, I heard a sound behind me and whirled around.
In a flash, a figure was upon me, striking me on the head, and I felt myself sliding into darkest shadow.
Chapter 23
I awoke to find myself inside an unfamiliar room, with a pile of dissected student desk parts—chair legs protruding from the heap at unnatural angles—taking up the far half of the space. A wall of empty metal shelves was directly across from me. The single light bulb hanging crookedly down from the ceiling was on, though it seemed better at accentuating the gloom than providing illumination. It appeared to be a different storage room from the one I’d been aiming for.
This was bad. Very bad. At least I was still on campus, which was slightly comforting given that I could have been in a ditch somewhere right now. But I didn’t want to meet my end in a student-desk graveyard either.
I stood up slowly and made my way over to the door. I jiggled the knob, but it was locked tight. Pounding on the wood and yelling for help only caused lightning to streak across my brain from the spot where I’d been hit.
I gently pressed the bump at the side of my head to gauge the discomfort—about an eight out of ten on the pain scale—and tried to come up with a plan. I reached into my pocket with the other hand, but my cell phone was gone.
Shakily, I sank to the floor.
A sound coming from a vent on the wall to my right drew my attention. I crawled over and adjusted it—thankfully, this one wasn’t stuck—until I could see into the next room, where about thirty people were filing silently in. Each came to a stop before one of the chairs facing the wooden podium, but they did not sit down. Whoever had knocked me out must have dragged me into the storage room on the opposite side of the circular room where I’d heard the chanting.
It was difficult to tell from this low side angle who they were. What the heck was going on?
Someone stepped up to a podium and faced the crowd. She opened a red book, from which she read in a dramatic manner. With shock, I recognized Willa’s voice. At certain points, the audience would respond, sounds of affirmation or denial, as in a religious service. Or, I shuddered, a darker ceremony.
Her voice rang out. “Greetings, sisters.”
“Greetings,” replied the crowd.
“Please take a seat.” As they complied, Willa continued. “Join me, sisters,” she said. “We meet here…”
“In the tomb,” said the crowd.
“Where so many have been left…”
“Unsung,” voiced the crowd.
Willa produced a large knife from somewhere and held it up, point side down. Then she made a fierce stabbing motion. “We vow…”
“Vow!” repeated the crowd.
“To celebrate those who came before. We promise to sever”—another stab—“the old ways and nurture new ones. We renew this vow with every gathering of the Briar Rose Society. If you agree, please affirm.”
“Secrecy for truth,” said the crowd.
When Willa made another violent slice through the air, I lurched backwards, hitting something behind me, which made a noise as it scraped across the floor. One of the individuals in the row closest to me turned her head sharply over her shoulder. I froze until she faced front. I assumed one or more of the group members had dragged me in here, and I didn’t want them coming to hit me on the head a second time.
Scenarios ran unbidden through my mind, starting with Roland’s murder. If Willa had approached Roland from the front, where the knife had entered his body, he could have stopped her. Unless he didn’t see the knife coming. Could they have been embracing? But if she had been so ill-treated by him, as Calista claimed, that wouldn’t have happened. Or was their behavior intended to cover a romantic relationship? Hard to imagine. But I had just seen her demonstrate a stabbing in front of a room full of people…that seemed fairly damning, didn’t it? Not to mention terrifying.
There was a beat of stillness, then a hand in the front row was raised. “I move…” I couldn’t hear the rest of the sentence.
“I second,” came a voice from the back.
A vote was taken and declared successful.
As I listened, I became increasingly light-headed. I knew I was going to faint and tried to fight it but a loud roaring filled my ears, and I slowly slid forward.
I awakened on the floor some time later to absolute quiet.
Scuttling over to the wall, I checked through the vent again. The room was empty and the lights were off, so I couldn’t see anything. I stood very slowly and tried to figure out what to do next.
There were footsteps in the hallway.
My whole body vibrated with adrenaline. I ran over to the desk parts pile and grabbed a dismembered chair leg to use as a weapon, then crouched down behind the shelves, trying to make myself invisible. I peeked through the metal bars.
When the door flew open, Willa was standing there.
Freakin’ Willa. Madam Big Knife Herself.
Then another woman entered, holding a red book. It was Judith. Judith? I couldn’t accept it.
Strangely, they didn’t seem to be looking for me. They just glided in soundlessly. It gave me goosebumps.
My mind raced. There were two murderers here. I didn’t think I could fight them both at once. Maybe the best I could hope for was that whatever they had in mind was quick and painless.
Then another person came through the door. My odds were getting worse by the second.
Millicent was holding the knife I’d seen Willa using in one hand and a small black gun in the other. She swept the room with her eyes, calling my name.
I didn’t move.
“Lila, if you don’t come out here, I’ll shoot Judith right now.”
I crept out from my hiding spot, chair leg in hand.
“Drop it,” she said. “If you throw that at me, I’ll shoot you. Now join the others, over by the wall.”
I did as she said.
“Sit down, ladies,” she ordered. “And put that book on the floor, Judith.”
We all complied with Millicent’s directions as she watched, weapons aimed unwaveringly at us.
I didn’t understand why she was turning on her accomplices, who both seemed terribly pale.
Millicent’s eyes glittered. “No funny stuff. I am happy to use this knife or shoot this gun. Either one works for me.”
“Who hit me?” My question came out as a croak. I was trying desperately to come up with an escape plan but couldn’t work out how to do anything without getting shot.
“Be quiet,” Willa, sitting next to me, whispered.
“I’m surprised your brain still works after the crack from my pistol here,” Millicent said. “You’re stronger than I’d thought.”
“Let us go,” Willa said. “You don’t have to do this.”
Wait, they weren’t in this together?
“Oh, yes I do,” Millicent said, briskly. “But first, let’s review, so I’m sure you all understand your sins.”
Judith spoke quietly. “I’m sorry, Millicent. Spencer is a very special man, and I understand how you might resent me for—”
“What? You think I want your husband? How ridiculous. And completely wrong.” Millicent leaned against the wall, smug as a cat. “I don’t hate you because of Spencer, Judith. It’s because of Betty. More specifically, the way the members of your group treated Betty.”
“She told you about the Briar Rose Society?” Judith said, so
unding surprised.
“She founded the whole thing—”
Willa interrupted. “That’s not quite true. We were involved too.”
Millicent waved her hand dismissively. “You helped her, sure. But it was her idea. She’s a genius.”
“But she told you about it?” Judith asked again, openly incredulous. “The first thing we agreed on was that members needed to keep it a secret.”
“She didn’t so much tell me directly as she did write about it in her journals,” said Millicent. “Which I always read when I house-sat for her. So, clearly, she wanted me know.”
That was some twisted logic right there.
“What exactly is the society?” I asked, seizing my opportunity. I couldn’t seem to tie the pieces together, but I had to know.
“We were going to invite you to join, Lila,” said Willa.
“Why would I want to join a society that kills people?”
“What? No, that’s not what we do,” said Judith, shaking her head. “Why would you think that?”
“Let’s see—there was the rose symbol on the knife that killed Roland, for starters,” I said.
“That was me,” said Millicent proudly. “Using the society’s original ritual knife.”
“And on the stake that killed Eldon—” I continued.
“Also me, though I made that one myself,” Millicent chimed in again. She appeared to have no qualms about knocking off whoever crossed her path. It was chilling, how pleased she was about her evil deeds.
“How did you get the ritual knife?” Willa asked in clipped tones. I could tell she was angry but trying to control it. “Calista was taking over as president, but I can’t believe she would have let it out of her sight.”
“I saw it in Calista’s office when I went in to leave a desk copy that had arrived for her. She was in class. I would have preferred to use my gun, but there was a poetic quality to framing the Briar Rose Society after what you did to my sister.”