Page 9 of Shadowface

Mystic is where I grew up, an hour away from here. I love my grandfather, who I call Papa, but I never had a chance to meet my grandmother.

She presses her lips together. “So, he went here during that time? During the Shadowface era?”

I blink at her, silently doing the math in my head. “Yeah, I guess he did.” I never really thought about it, and he never spoke about it. Although, I can understand why he wouldn’t want to talk about a serial killer with his little girl.

“And you have no other family in the region?”

I shake my head. “No. My father was an only child. I’m the only one left on that side, other than Papa.”

A shadow looms over us, and I glance up at someone standing a couple of feet away, holding a piece of paper in his hand. “Hey ladies, wanna come to a party?”

Dani shoots up and rips the invitation from his hand. “What’s this?”

He shrugs, but not before checking me out. “It’s the harvest party. You ladies up for it, or are you too chicken shit? Happens every year on the first weekend of fall. It’s a tradition.”

I grab the invite from her and stare at the image of the mask on the front as annoyance tugs at my gut.

“A Shadowface-themed party? Really?” I roll my eyes and he grins. I can’t say I’m surprised. This campus, this town, is obsessed—whispers are everywhere, and that text message was just the beginning. Calling it a harvest party is a joke when it’s obvious what it is.

Everyone speaks about Shadowface as if he’s a god. As if he’s a deity that walks among the shadows of this town, infiltrating his evil into every stone. In actuality, he killed people. Very real victims. He wasn’t a god; he was a fucking coward who hid his true identity.

“We’ll be there,” Dani muses, ignoring the guy, but excitement gleams from her face.

For whatever reason, the guy lingers for a moment, his eyes on my legs, and I wave him off. “Carry on.” I frown as I play with the invitation between my fingers and stare down at the picture representing death, chaos, and evil. I shoot Dani a look as soon as he leaves. “I’m not going to this.”

“Yeah, you are,” she responds. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud.”

More people walk by, and a familiar face comes into my periphery, and I drop the invite to my lap. Black hair, a pale white face, contrasting against otherwise dark cold features…thick glasses. Sexy as fuck.

Lincoln Kennedy.

Dani notices, too, and she nudges me and loudly whispers, “Professor Hottie.”

Fuck. It is him. And he’s even better looking up close.

He walks toward us, his face a cool glaze. He’s wearing a black T-shirt sculpted to his arms. Pants that should be illegal, given he is staff and his students are milling about. His face is so pale, he looks like a vampire.

Not a professor yet, I remind myself. Technically, he’s still a student.

I hate that I’m looking… I hate that he has any of my attention. I can’t help but feel a familiarity about him more than just his name.

Like maybe I’ve met him before, seen him before… But I distinctly remember not meeting Lincoln Kennedy—and how bitter I was about that.

I try to appear calm and avoid making direct eye contact with him. I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to possess the same level of intelligence as he apparently has.

Writing a textbook…

As he strolls past me, I awkwardly adjust my posture, crossing my long, bare legs, wondering if it’s possible he was my mysterious messenger last night.

He gives me nothing, no sign it was he who contacted me. He walks right by me, doesn’t even spare me a glance until the very last moment. His gaze lingers on me for half a second.

My heart nearly stops as he tilts his lips to a small smile and, for the first time, he proves there is at least some warmth behind those cold, dead eyes. He turns his head and keeps walking, and I realize I’m smiling. Like really smiling back at him.

“My god. How can a nerd be that hot?” Dani’s mouth is hanging open. “He totally checked you out.”

“He didn’t check me out,” I tell her as the heat in my face rises. But a flash of recognition hits his eyes, and the inside of my belly squirms. His eyes, the way he looked at me, even if it was for only a moment…

And he’s not alone, I realize. The people he’s with are dressed in black, too, because apparently, it’s the trendy thing to do at this campus. The two girls in his group are showing lots of skin: low cut jeans that can barely count as pants, loose, ripped T-shirts, and… Is that girl wearing a collar? I nearly choke on my tongue.