The Professor

by Alexandria Clarke

  “Wow,” said Henry, lingering in the doorway of the library as he beheld its contents. “Are the Raptors ever satisfied? They have a whole library full of rare books right above their heads, but that’s not enough, is it? They wanted more.”

  I tipped my head in acknowledgement. “True scholars are never satisfied. Wisdom is always pursued but never truly caught.”

  “Is that a quote from someone?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  I wandered into the Raptors’ library, aiming for the long, low table in the middle of the room. Beneath it, I knew there was another secret passageway, but it was what lay on top of the table that drew my attention. The Black Raptor Society’s charter was a voluminous tome bound in weathered leather. I flipped through its pages, searching gingerly for the signatures of the members from a certain year. On the page labeled 1981, I found what I was looking for.

  “Is that it?” asked Henry, peering over my shoulder at the charter.

  I pointed to a name scrawled in flamboyant script. “There she is. Catherine Lockwood.”

  Henry’s nose wrinkled at the sight of her signature. “Is your father in here too?”

  “He was,” I said. Near Catherine’s signature, there was a cluster of burn marks, as though someone had used the hot end of a cigarette to mar the ink beneath. I ran my fingers over the thick paper. “Catherine was determined to wipe him from the Raptors’ history.”

  Henry eyed the burn marks. “Didn’t work out all that well for her, did it?”

  I shook my head, still absentmindedly caressing the disfigured pages. Henry set a gentle hand on my shoulder.

  “We should hurry,” he said softly. “Or your father won’t be the only Costello that Catherine tries to wipe from history.”

  I picked up the charter, and with Henry’s help, deposited it into the nondescript black backpack that we had brought with us to carry it. Henry zipped up the bag, sealing the charter inside, then hoisted it onto his back and tightened the straps.

  “Move out,” he said, clapping me on the back.

  We had barely set foot outside the library’s door when the explosion hit.

  With a earsplitting sound like a sonic boom, the dome of the Waverly library shattered, showering the quadrangle with construction debris and broken bits of stained glass. A plume of smoke and fire erupted from the roof of the building. The night was illuminated by the blaze, and a chorus of yelling and screaming crescendoed from a dull symphony to an outright roar.

  Lauren ducked instinctively, shielding her head with her hands, even though she and Olivia were nowhere near the library. “Shit!” she exclaimed. “What the hell was that?”

  Olivia ushered her along from behind, keeping close to the wall of Research Hall. “Move, move, move. Oh, this is bad. This was not part of the plan.”

  “What plan? Oh, my God.”

  They had rounded the corner of Research Hall where the Waverly library came into full view. It was catastrophic. The building was already in ruins, blackened by the fire that raged on at its center. The air was rent with the worry and panic of students and faculty alike. A few more people emerged from the mouth of the burning library, coughing and sputtering as they ran into the arms of nearby friends and collapsed with relief. In the distance, the haunting dissonance of several emergency vehicle sirens began, growing louder with every passing second.

  Lauren stopped dead in her tracks at the sight, staring open-mouthed at the wreckage.

  Olivia nudged her from behind. “We have to keep moving,” she said. It sounded like an order, despite the gentle way Olivia slipped her hand into Lauren’s in order to tug her along.

  Hesitantly, Lauren resumed her pace and let Olivia lead her around the edge of the quadrangle to the next building over. They kept to the shadows, avoiding the bright lamps that kept Waverly lit at night, but there was no way to evade the broiling glow of the library. The heat of it warmed Lauren even in the frigid night, so much so that she could feel sweat beading on her forehead. She dislodged her damp hand from Olivia’s, wiping it on her jeans, but Olivia moved closer, keeping Lauren between her own body and the wall of the classroom building. Lauren’s shoulder rasped against the rough bricks.

  “Okay, Ollie? I know you’re taking my aunt’s orders to keep watch over me pretty seriously, but don’t you think this is a little much?” asked Lauren. Despite being pressed to a building, she was unable to rip her gaze away from the chaos of the library.

  “My job is to protect you, Lauren,” answered Olivia. She glanced left and right, methodically scanning the area before maneuvering Lauren between the buildings. “Right now, we need to get you back to your dorm room. If any of the Raptors see us, we could screw up the entire plan.”

  “What plan?” repeated Lauren. She took hold of Olivia’s jacket, keeping her from slipping away.

  “We don’t have time for an explanation.”

  “I’m not moving until you tell me what’s going on,” declared Lauren. Her grip tightened on the other girl’s jacket. “Did someone blow up the library on purpose?”

  Olivia’s face hardened, and she turned away from Lauren to hide her expression.

  “Oh, my God,” said Lauren. She released Olivia’s jacket, stunned by a sudden realization. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

  “What?”

  “Did you blow up the library?”

  “No!” said Olivia quickly. “God, Lauren. I wouldn’t do that, especially if there were still people inside.”

  “Then what the hell, Ollie?” demanded Lauren. “You were the first one to report the alarm to Flynn. Not to mention, how do you explain looking like you’d just run a damn marathon if you weren’t sprinting to the library and back?”

  Olivia gave an exasperated sigh. She glanced nervously around before she made eye contact with Lauren again. For a moment, she seemed to be considering if she could bodily remove Lauren from the premises, but Lauren crossed her arms and fixed Olivia with a penetrating stare.

  “Look, I did pull the fire alarm, okay?” admitted Olivia, tossing her arms up in defeat. “But I had nothing to do with the explosion.”

  “Why would you pull the alarm in the first place? Why would you need a distraction like that? Who bombed the library, Ollie?”

  “I don’t know!” shouted Olivia. Once more, she checked her surroundings, but in light of the emergency, no one paid them any mind. Olivia lowered her voice. “Like I said, the explosion wasn’t part of the plan.”

  “What—”

  “What plan?” finished Olivia. She took Lauren by the arm. This time, Lauren allowed her to steer her onward. “Yeah, I heard you the first few times. But here’s the thing. You’re not supposed to know about this. Any of this. In fact, when I first met you, I guessed that, out of all the Raptors, you were the one most likely to figure it out. You’re too inquisitive for your own good.”

  “Clearly I’m not, because I have no idea what you’re prattling on about.”

  They cleared the quad, the noise at the library finally starting to fade as Olivia chaperoned Lauren across the vast lawn between the classroom buildings and the dormitories. Before Olivia could continue her explanation, her phone let out two short beeps. She glanced at the screen and stopped short.

  “Shit. Shit.”

  “What is it?” asked Lauren, peeking over Olivia’s shoulder in an attempt to get a look at the text message.

  “We have to get back to Research Hall,” said Olivia. She executed an abrupt about-face turn, broke into a run, and headed back in the direction they had come from.

  For a moment, Lauren considered letting Olivia go. She was alone and unsupervised. The Raptors would have a hard time figuring out what happened to her what with the on-campus calamity. It would be easy to disappear into the night. She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder toward the city lights beyond the Waverly campus. Then she looked back at Olivia’s receding figure. Olivia was right. Lauren was too inquisitive, and just as it always had, her curiosit
y got the best of her. With a wistful sigh, she sprinted after Olivia.

  When Lauren caught up to the other girl, Olivia handed her phone to Lauren. “You wanted to know why I pulled the fire alarm,” she said. It was a testament to her athleticism that her voice remained smooth, even as the pair sprinted across the university grounds. “That’s why.”

  Lauren looked at the phone screen. It displayed a text from an unknown number:

  Stuck in headquarters. SOS.

  “Who is this?” asked Lauren. She returned to the phone’s home screen, only to discover that there were no personal details to identify it as Olivia’s. “This is a burner phone. Why do you have a burner phone?”

  As if in response to Lauren’s question, the phone beeped again.

  Only way out through passage in RH. Blocked from other side.

  “It’s my work phone.” Olivia plucked the cell out of Lauren’s hands and typed a quick response. “Those texts were from my boss. I pulled the fire alarm because I was following orders to do so.”

  “Following orders?”

  “Yes. I’m a federal agent. I’ve been working undercover to expose the Raptors.”

  “Seriously? But the Dashwoods—”

  “The Dashwoods don’t actually have a daughter,” explained Olivia. Her steps fell into the same pattern as Lauren’s. For several yards, their boots thumped a unified beat into the ground. “The Dashwoods don’t even live in America anymore. We chose a family that had pull with the Raptors but were no longer active with the society. With the Dashwood name, I was guaranteed an invitation to BRS, but since the real Dashwoods hadn’t been in contact with the Raptors in so long, the agency could create a full cover for me with little risk of the society finding out about it.”

  “How old are you?” asked Lauren. She glanced over at Olivia, viewing her friend in a whole new light. “Is Olivia even your real name?”

  “I’m twenty-seven,” she replied, vaulting over a protruding tree root. “I started working with the FBI when I was twenty-three and enrolled at Waverly as a freshman the same year Nicole Costello began her master's degree. And no, Olivia is not my real name.”

  “What is it really?”

  “It’s Hope.”

  32

  In the quad, the emergency teams had finally arrived in an array of flashing red lights and shrill sirens. Firefighters doused the library while paramedics tended to those who had been hurt in the fray. Students lined the edges of the scene, naturally forming a loose circle around the library. Some held hands, others talked rapidly on their cell phones, and still others simply watched in awe. It was a mystifying vigil, one that Lauren had a difficult time passing by.

  “What am I supposed to call you then if Olivia isn’t really your name?” asked Lauren, attempting to distract herself from the dismal gathering in the quad.

  “Olivia’s fine,” she replied. They sprinted through the quad, dodging one or two rogue students, as Olivia drew in a long, steadying breath. “It’s been three years, remember? I’ve gotten used to responding to it.”

  “And your boss—”

  “Henry.”

  “Henry. Why did he order you to pull the fire alarm?”

  “He needed a diversion to get the Raptors away from the clubhouse.”

  “How come?” asked Lauren.

  “Because Nicole Costello had to sneak in to the record room to get the BRS charter.”

  Olivia’s answer knocked the wind out of Lauren. Her abdomen cramped up, and she crashed into Olivia. The pair stumbled, but Olivia yanked Lauren upright before she could go tumbling to the ground.

  “Nicole’s in the clubhouse?” gasped Lauren, getting her feet back under her.

  Olivia nodded grimly. As they ran past a gaggle of students sitting on a curb and waiting to be seen by the paramedics, both girls looked up at the torched library.

  “They could be dead by now,” mused Lauren. She was beginning to feel like an angel of death. O’Connor, her father, and now Nicole?

  “Unless my boss is texting me as a ghost, they’re not dead yet,” replied Olivia. She clapped a hand on Lauren’s shoulder. “Focus, Lauren. We’re the only ones who know they’re down there so, it’s up to us to get them to safety.”

  They sprinted flat out across the last two hundred yards between the library and Research Hall, but when they reached the brick building, Olivia ignored the stone steps up to the entryway and turned the corner. There, she kicked in a basement window, lowered herself inside, and peeked up at Lauren.

  “Any day now,” she said impatiently.

  Lauren sat on the cold ground, breathing hard, and maneuvered her legs through the window. She slipped into the basement, landing with a grunt. The drop to the floor was steeper than she had anticipated, but the relative silence between the concrete walls was a warm welcome compared to the pandemonium outside. Together, she and Olivia pushed aside the fake water heater that concealed the society’s secret entrance. Out of the four, this one was the most cramped. It was a tunnel the size of a large air conditioning vent, just wide enough to clamber through, covered by an ornate metal grate. Once, when she was still playing the role of a double agent, Lauren had helped a gang of Raptors drag an unconscious Nicole into the clubhouse through this very passage.

  Olivia shed her jacket, and Lauren followed suit. The layers would only make it harder to wriggle through the passage. Olivia lifted the metal grate, the muscles in her biceps bulging against the taut material of her long-sleeved shirt, and set it aside. As soon as the passage opened, Lauren caught a whiff of burning debris.

  Olivia crouched down, preparing to crawl in, but Lauren held her back. “Are you sure about this?” she asked.

  “It’s the only way in.”

  Without further ado, Olivia disappeared into the wall. Lauren stooped down, peering into the passage. It looked hazier than usual, as if the smoke from the library had escaped this way as well. Ahead, Olivia coughed lightly. Lauren closed her eyes, hoping that the whole tunnel wouldn’t collapse in on them once they were closer to the clubhouse, then followed Olivia inside.

  “God, I forgot how much I hate this passage,” huffed Olivia as she flattened out and flipped over to pull herself past a particularly tight part of the tunnel. “It’s a good thing I’m not claustrophobic.”

  The moist stone scraped against the skin on Lauren’s hands as she levered herself closer to the narrowing. “Speak for yourself.”

  Another double beep emanated from Olivia’s burner phone. She wiggled it free from the front pocket of her jeans and checked the new message, the blue light of the screen illuminating the damp walls of the tapered tunnel.

  “Bad news?” asked Lauren, reading Olivia’s worried frown even at such an odd angle.

  “The clubhouse caved in between the dining room and the main hall,” reported Olivia. She put her phone away and carried on. “It sounds like Wes is trapped on the opposite side.”

  “Nicole’s boyfriend is here too? I wonder what he did with Holden.”

  “Hang on, he was the one who kidnapped Hastings?”

  “Yeah. Your boss didn’t tell you that?”

  “It wasn’t—”

  “Part of the plan,” completed Lauren for her. “Help me through here.”

  Olivia folded in on herself, reaching between her knees to take hold of Lauren’s hands and pull her through the skinny gap in the tunnel. “I just hope he’s smart enough to get out on his own,” she said. “I doubt we’ll have enough time to get through to his side after we evacuate Henry and Nicole.”

  “For my sake, we’d better,” replied Lauren. She gasped as she emerged on the opposite side of the gap, bunched up against Olivia.

  “What do you mean?”

  “If Wes doesn’t make it, Nicole will surely kill me for rescuing her and not him.”

  “Ah, feminist chivalry. How novel.”

  A little farther on, the passage widened just enough for the girls to rise to a crouch. Here, the air was definitely
thicker, and an acrid stench filtered in from ahead. Above them, an ominous creaking sound perforated the rock.

  “That’s definitely not good,” groaned Lauren.

  “Don’t think about it. We’re nearly there.”

  For the remaining stretch of the passageway, they moved progressively faster. The tunnel continued to widen until Olivia and Lauren only had to duck their heads to avoid brush-ins with the low ceiling, but when they rounded the last bend, the sight at the end caused them to slow down. A cascade of jagged boulders obstructed the entry point into the clubhouse.

  “Whoa,” said Lauren, skidding to a stop. “Your boss wasn’t kidding about the blockage.”

  Olivia examined the wall of rocks, her hands planted on her hips. “It doesn’t seem as bad as it looks. We could move most of these on our own.”

  Suddenly, the beam of an LED flashlight bounced off the tunnel walls from a small gap at the top of the wall. A deep voice resonated through to Olivia and Lauren. “Hope? Is that you?”

  “Yeah!” Olivia called back. “How’s it looking from your side?”

  “We cleared most of the rocks, but there’s one massive one that we can’t move on our own,” said Henry. He peered through the break between the rocks. “You must be Lauren.”

  Lauren waved. “Hi, Henry. Nice to meet you.”

  “Ditto. I’m glad you’re here. Nicole’s panicking—”

  “I am not panicking!”

  Henry ignored her, rolling his eyes, but Lauren was happy to hear Nicole’s voice, even if the circumstances were less than pleasant.

  “If you two can move the smaller rocks on your side, I can lift Nicole up and over,” finished Henry. “I can get through on my own.”