The Professor

by Alexandria Clarke

  “Be aware, Miss Costello,” interrupted Flynn, “that should you choose this option, your record here at Waverly University will cease to exist. Your grades, your progress toward your master’s. It will all be lost, as though you never even set foot in the halls of our school.”

  “But,” said Orson before I could open my mouth with a retaliation, “the Black Raptor Society would allocate the funds for your move, settle your student-loan debt, and set you up with a source of income. You could attend whatever university you wanted. Study until you’ve conquered every history book in existence. You would never have to work a day in your life. Your sweet rookie of a boyfriend could retire early. And presumably much to your delight, you would never hear from the Black Raptor Society ever again.”

  “You’re trying to bribe me to leave Waverly?”

  “Think of it more as a business offer,” Lauren chipped in. “A lucrative one. You’d be stupid not to accept it.”

  “I think I’ve exercised my fair share of stupidity as of late,” I said. I wriggled my ankles, testing the durability of the duct tape.

  “Your other option,” said Orson, “is to accept an honorary membership with the Black Raptor Society.”

  I blinked, confused. “I’m sorry, come again?”

  “We don’t offer this type of inclusion often, Miss Costello,” said Flynn. “Should you accept it, you would be privy to all of the Raptors’ secrets. Not to mention, you would benefit from the same advantages you’ve so adamantly condemned. I’m sure you’ll find your moral ground isn’t quite as defined when you reside on one of its higher levels.”

  “Why the hell would you want me to be a member?” I asked. “It doesn’t make any sense. Isn’t your entire society the product of unwavering nepotism?”

  “Every once in a while, if we discover a suitable prospect, we present them with the opportunity to join our ranks,” explained Orson.

  I scoffed. “And you consider me suitable?”

  “Quite,” confirmed Lauren. “You found your way down here, didn’t you? No one else in the history of BRS has ever done that. Except—”

  Flynn cut Lauren short. “If you decide to become one of us, the process here becomes a great deal less troublesome. You would be free to return to your apartment. We would organize your induction ceremony sometime in the next week or so. Then you could continue your master’s progress. Of course, the Raptors would provide you with alternate material for your thesis, but you would graduate with the rest of your classmates at the end of this semester.”

  “What about Wes?”

  “Your boyfriend must agree to work under Officer Wilson as an informant for BRS,” explained Flynn. “If he does not comply, and you still wish to become a member, we would require the cessation of your relationship.”

  To my dismay, my eyes began to burn, a sure sign that I might cry. If Flynn really thought that I would sacrifice my relationship with Wes just to get into BRS’s good graces, she was even more heartless than I thought.

  “What if I decide to leave?” I asked. “What happens then?”

  “We would escort you back to your apartment, assist with your packing, and supervise your departure from the Waverly campus,” explained Orson.

  I glanced from Orson to Flynn to Lauren. All three were calm and collected. This was no more than a business meeting for them. I, on the other hand, felt a panic attack coming on. I couldn’t accept either one of the offered options in good conscience. Either BRS paid me to keep quiet, or I enlisted with their organization, effectively supporting all of the society’s exploits that I’d been so determined to reveal.

  “Can I… may I have a few minutes alone to think about it?” I asked. I needed more time to weigh the pros and cons of each situation, preferably without the higher-ups of BRS breathing down my neck. There was no way I could accept either option, but there had to be some kind of loophole I hadn’t thought of yet.

  Orson pushed his chair away from mine and stood up. “Certainly,” he said. “Ladies, we’ll wait with the others in the conference room. Miss Costello? Do you think ten minutes is sufficient time to mull things over?”

  “Certainly,” I said, imitating his conciliatory inflection.

  He flashed his signature smile as he held the door open and gestured Flynn and Lauren from the room. Outside, raucous laughter floated down the hallway. It sounded like the rest of the Black Raptor Society was in the thick of a mid-semester bash.

  “I’ll wait outside the door,” said Lauren as she passed her father. She looked back at me with a wry grin. “Just in case.”

  As soon as the door closed and the glow from the hallway sconces disappeared, I burst into action, wrenching my wrists back and forth in an attempt to loosen my duct-tape restraints. The little hairs on my skin tore away as the tape lost some of its grip, but like ripping off a giant Band-Aid, I kept at it. Maybe ten minutes was just enough time to break free. Although, even if I did manage to escape from the chair, I didn’t want to think about how I would get past Lauren and the rest of BRS’s guard dogs.

  The door creaked open again, and I immediately stilled. It was Lauren again, as though she’d waited for her father and Flynn to return to the meeting room before she snuck back into the art room. A chill washed over me. What horror did she wish to inflict on me that her superiors wouldn’t approve of?

  “They said ten minutes,” I said as Lauren crept in and closed the door quietly behind her.

  “Yeah, I know, genius,” she whispered back. “Keep your voice down.”

  She crossed the room and knelt down at my feet. I felt the duct tape around my ankles tighten then heard the swift swish of a switchblade opening. I bucked my feet as far away from Lauren as possible. “Shit! What the hell are you doing?”

  “Shut up!” she hissed. “And stop moving unless you want me to accidentally cut your damn feet off. I’m trying to get you out of here.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. The roofies you force-fed me earlier are still messing with my brain a little bit,” I quipped. “That was you, was it not, Salander? Great code name, by the way. What else have you used your master IT skills for?”

  “I didn’t have a choice.” As she hacked through the duct tape between my ankles, Lauren spoke in a low ramble. “Most of what I told you this morning was true,” she said. “I don’t want anything to do with BRS. Unfortunately, it’s not easy to opt out.”

  “How do I know this isn’t just another trick?” I asked. My feet sprang apart, and Lauren gently removed the duct tape from around my ankles. She fetched my boots from across the room and deposited them at my feet.

  “Because I was the one who gave O’Connor my puzzle box,” she said.

  “What?”

  She sighed, moving her focus up to my hands. With painstaking precision, she maneuvered the blade between my skin and the duct tape and sliced upwards. “Every member of the society gets some kind of box like that when they’re inducted. The ring too. I knew that if O’Connor managed to get his hands on one, he’d probably be able to figure it all out. I guess he never really got the chance. He would’ve eventually. O’Connor caught on to BRS a while ago. He dug up all that shit that was locked in his safe—”

  “You knew about the safe?”

  “Who do you think told him to hide all that information?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as if to question my command of common sense. “I don’t care what my father and aunt say. BRS is lethal. This isn’t the first death we’ve been connected to.”

  “But you said it was an accident, and that BRS considered murder unsavory.”

  “There was no proof to link BRS directly with the previous deaths,” she said. “And it was an accident. They weren’t going to kill O’Connor, just rough him up, but Donovan was there. He’s got serious anger issues, no matter how creepily calm he seems. I heard that he was the one who took it too far.”

  “Why does that not surprise me?” I muttered, grimacing as Lauren peeled the duct tape away from
my left wrist and set to work on the other one.

  “That’s why he was demoted,” she went on. “That same day, I took his place on the council.”

  “If you’re so against all of this, why would you work so hard to get promoted? And why the hell wouldn’t you just clue me in on all of this shit when we spoke this morning?”

  “Look, Nicole,” she said, all of her concentration dedicated to not slicing open my right wrist with the switchblade as she wriggled it beneath the duct tape. “This whole double-agent thing only works if they think I’m solidly committed to BRS. That’s why I got your phone number. That’s why I hacked your computer. It bought me some time. Even when I get you out of here, they won’t suspect me.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said, and with a final flick of the knife, she freed my right hand.

  I rubbed at the raw skin around my wrists. “Thanks.”

  She nodded hurriedly. “Listen. I gave O’Connor that box because I thought that he would be able to uncover all the crap that BRS has done. I didn’t count on him dying. Now, he’s passed that beacon on to you, and I can tell that you’re not about to set it down again.”

  I stayed quiet, pursing my lips. Lauren was perceptive, that was for sure.

  “I figured,” she went on. “You know all that bullshit that my dad and aunt fed you? With either option, you’re screwed. BRS will always be a part of your life, even if you decided to take the money and leave Waverly. I’ve seen it before, Nicole. They keep tabs on everyone they’ve ever paid off. They’ll tail you with private investigators, just to make sure you won’t ever mention BRS to any kind of authority. Here, put on your shoes.”

  I did as told, leaning over to pull my boots onto my cold feet.

  “I made a mistake when I gave O’Connor that box,” said Lauren. Her voice shook. “I wanted him to do the work for me, so that my father would never suspect me of taking down the society. If it weren’t for me, he’d still be alive.”

  “Hey, that’s not true—”

  “It is, and I can’t let the same thing happen to you.” Her eyes shimmered in the gloomy light, but she seemed determined not to let her tears fall. “Leave Waverly. Go home, find your boyfriend, and get out of town. It’s the only way you’ll be safe.”

  “I thought your father had goons camped out at my apartment.”

  “Everyone’s at the party. He just said that to scare you. Even so, you need to be careful. It’s better if no one sees you leave.”

  “And what about BRS?”

  Lauren’s face hardened. “I’ll find a way to shut it down eventually. It might just take longer than I thought.”

  “I can help—”

  “No, you can’t!” she whispered furiously. “Didn’t you learn anything from O’Connor? You have no power here, Nicole, and no other options. Get out while you still can.”

  “How the hell am I supposed to do that?” I asked. I swept my arms around us, indicating the art room. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re under the freaking ground. Your buddies might be laughing it up out there, but I have a feeling they’d notice if I waltzed by on my bid for freedom.”

  “Most everyone’s drunk,” she said shortly. “They’re celebrating. They got rid of O’Connor’s body and caught you. It’s a victory for us.”

  “The Lockwoods certainly aren’t inebriated.”

  “True, but I can get you out of here without them knowing. There are a bunch of underground tunnels that connect some of the other Waverly buildings to our clubhouse,” she explained. “It’s how we got you down here without anyone noticing. There’s one in the basement of Research Hall.”

  “No fucking way.”

  “The library down here. Have you seen it?”

  I nodded.

  Lauren crept over to the door, opened it a smidge, and peeked out. She beckoned me forward with her index finger. “That’s where we’re headed.”

  Heart pounding, I followed Lauren out into the hallway, squinting against the bright light of the sconces. Chatter, laughter, and music poured from the dining room at the far end of the corridor, and though another member could emerge from the party at any second and discover us, we edged forward. Thankfully, the library was only a few doors down, and we slipped inside unnoticed.

  Lauren raced to the long desk in the middle of the room, the one that held the BRS charter, and lay down on the floor beneath it.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered, squatting down next to her.

  “Just…one…second,” she grunted as she fiddled with something on the underside of the desk. A defined click met my ears. “There.”

  She squirmed out from under the desk just in time. The floor gave way, revealing a rickety ladder and deep drop. I looked down into it, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “It’s not far,” Lauren reassured me. “It comes out in the basement of my dormitory. No one uses this one much. Mostly, it’s just me. It’s safe, I promise.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “You don’t trust me?”

  “Not a bit.”

  Lauren grinned. “That’s probably wise of you. Get going. Our ten minutes are nearly up, and I still have to stage your great escape.”

  I shuffled forward, dropping my legs into the passageway and finding the first rung of the ladder. As I slipped entirely into the hole in the floor, I looked back up at Lauren. “I misjudged you.”

  “Everyone always does.”

  Without warning, the floor tiles slid back into place, and all traces of light from the clubhouse vanished. Blindly, I lowered myself into the darkness below.

  10

  Lauren had spoken the truth about the secret tunnel. It was only about ten feet down before my boots hit the floor of the passageway, but in the pitch black, I had no idea which way I was supposed to be heading. Thankfully, BRS hadn’t bothered to relieve me of my phone. There was no point, I guessed, considering they’d already wiped it blank. I took it out from my jacket pocket and flipped the LED light on. My route was easier than I expected. The rough stone tunnel branched out in one direction, so with a silent prayer that Lauren was genuinely trying to help me, I set off, bowing my head to avoid banging it on the low, stooped ceiling.

  Ten minutes later, the passageway sloped gradually upward, and at the end, I pushed open a section in the wall, crawled through the hole, and found myself in the boiler room of Lauren’s dormitory. From there, I climbed the stairs to the first floor and let myself out into the main hallway. As I passed by a few student residents, I instinctively ducked my face, keeping my eyes on the floor, just in case any of them were members of BRS. I left the dorm building without issue and emerged into the bright sunlight of midday.

  I wiped my watering eyes with the back of my hand. It had been so dark and chilly in the clubhouse that I’d all but forgotten it was just a normal day for the other Waverly students. They milled about in the dormitory courtyard, chatting with friends, or rushed to classes with stacks of books cradled in their arms. How mundane it all seemed now. I wished suddenly that I’d never looked in O’Connor’s safe, that I had remained blissfully ignorant of the Black Raptor Society. There were some things you just couldn’t take back.

  As I jogged toward home, I considered my options. According to Lauren, my best bet was packing up and leaving Waverly, but there was a whole host of details to consider when trying to lose someone on your tail, and my fragile knowledge of the subject relied solely on mass-marketed movies. I’d leave the high-stakes deception up to Wes. It was absurd that I even had to think about this sort of thing. There was still so much I didn’t know about BRS. How deep did their connections go? What would Wes and I have to do to stop them from following us? They could track us in a million different ways—bank accounts, license plates, et cetera—but was the Black Raptor Society that committed to hunting down its prey?

  Anger burned through me, and I sped up my pace. Why should I have to be the one to leave W
averly when BRS was the problematic entity? Though they might’ve confiscated all of my electronic evidence, I still had all of O’Connor’s paper research in the apartment back home. Going to the local police with it wasn’t an option though. Wilson and Whitehall would cover it up without a hitch. My only option was to skip over the local force entirely. Maybe the county or the state would take me seriously. One could only hope.

  As I neared my apartment building, I slowed down. Despite Lauren’s reassurance, a prickle of fear raised the hair on the back of my neck. Wes’s cruiser was gone. The force must have picked it up while I was being interrogated beneath the Waverly library. No one lingered around the building, and there were very few cars in the parking lot, most of which I recognized as belonging to my neighbors. Still, I pulled the hood of my winter coat up to veil my face before walking out into the courtyard and heading up the stairs.

  I stopped dead in my tracks when I reached my apartment. Wes’s set of keys dangled from the doorknob. To anyone else, it might’ve looked like a simple mistake, but I knew Wes. He was obsessed with safety, almost to the point of neuroticism, and the only reason he would’ve left his key in the door was if he wasn’t in a position to remove it.

  I pressed my ear to the door, listening for any signs of trouble. A muffled yell echoed from inside, followed by a low growl.

  “Damn dog!”

  The voice was unfamiliar, and if Franklin, the most easygoing dog I’d ever met, was upset over the intruder, I knew it wasn’t someone friendly. Franklin had flawless judgement when it came to people.

  Suddenly, a high-pitched yelp, one that was unmistakably uttered by a non-human, met my ears. The asshole inside, whoever he was, had done something to Franklin.

  Fueled by hate and fury alone, I kicked open the door and grabbed the first weapon I could find, which happened to be the old softball bat that Wes and I kept near the kitchen for situations just like these. Across the living room, Franklin cowered beneath the coffee table, hiding from the stranger who kept attempting to drag Franklin out by the collar.