Page 34 of Half Truths (Secret Society 1)
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.”
