(Make-up tests can be taken for Mrs. Addison’s class by clicking here.)

Cornell University

“Maybe we should have waited for tomorrow,” Apollo says, his eyes repeatedly darting toward the door. He checks his watch for the fifth time in the last ten minutes, which earns him a gentle shove to the arm. “I mean, Chris has his game with that scout and Aurora doesn’t want to be a part of this. Nobody even knows if Jennifer is missing or dead. She could have already moved out before the sorority house burned down. All I’m saying is that the four of us should consider going somewhere else.”

“There sure are a lot of books on psychics, ghosts, magic, and astral projection in this library,” Thomas mutters while he chews on a straw. Giving his eyes a break from the tiny print of a large book, he leans back and pulls out a scrap of paper to look over. “This research has given me some good ideas for mixed drink names. So, this isn’t going to be a total loss. Not much else to go on, but it’s weird that Jennifer went missing and then showed up a few hours later in your dream. You even told me that she was billowing smoke. Maybe she’s alive and calling out to you.”

“It wouldn’t be that strange if you think about it,” Harvey politely interjects before Apollo can argue. Frowning at his one notes, he repeatedly taps on one section that he cannot get out of his head. “There is the one option that you subconsciously added her to your dream after hearing about the fire. Most would go with that, but it’s possibly you reached out to her. To think that everything can be explained so easily is foolish. We are always discovering new phenomena and there have been rumors of those with superhuman powers.”

Bryce clears her throat and nods at Harvey’s hand, which he is keeping behind his back to hide his crossed fingers. “Nice try, but it’s most likely the first option. This recurring nightmare wouldn’t change so easily. It has to be caused by stress, which Apollo is under due to tests and now losing a friend. We all know he had a crush on Jennifer too, so that makes it a lot more painful. Now, if Aurora has the dream with the addition then I’ll go along with this supernatural or whatever you think this is.”

“Dreams are very prevalent in philosophy and mythology,” Harvey points out as he pushes a thin book to Thomas. He shrugs when his offer is rejected, the other student obviously feeling outnumbered and isolated. “Perhaps we are all right and wrong. There is no way to tell what Apollo’s dream means since it only happened once. You said that Aurora has these too, which means we need to wait and see if she shares the change. It would give more weight to Thomas’s beliefs if both of those requirements are met. Needless to say, this also gives us time to learn what happened to Jennifer. Considering what happened with her roommate, it isn’t too difficult to imagine her being away from the house at the time of the fire. She could very well be unaware of the situation, so she isn’t rushing back.”

The doorknob shakes and rattles before Marcy comes into the study lounge, the librarian hisses like a cat at the sight of the students. Looking from one stunned face to the other, she points at her shield-shaped watch to silently tell them that the building is closing soon. Seeing all of the books that she will have to put away, she taps her foot and waits for the students to straighten everything up. Moving a cart to prop the door open, Marcy casually takes the giant stack and walks out of the room. Expecting her to trip or bump into something, Thomas and Apollo look around the corner to watch her disappear into the mythology section. Pushing the cart away, they go back to their seats and quickly realize that even their notes have been taken by the silent woman.

“We should probably call it a day,” Apollo suggests, putting on his jacket. Not seeing anyone else moving to leave, he sighs and puts his head on the table. “We’re out of our depth here. Harvey is the closest one to an expert here, but that’s really stretching it. How about we wait for the weekend and go to a psychic? Pretty sure we can find one and Chris will get a kick out of driving us there. It’d make more sense than reading books on something that most of us don’t even believe in.”

“You don’t have to believe for it to be real,” Thomas stubbornly argues, his fists clenched in frustration. Taking out his phone, he hides it under the table in case Marcy returns, her hatred of smartphones nearing legendary proportions. “I’ll let the whole psychic connection thing go for now. Maybe we can find a psychology student who wants to practice on Apollo. There has to be something in his head that’s causing this. What grade did you have this Mrs. Addison for? I’m sure she’s a major part of the mystery.”

“I never had a Mrs. Addison.”

“Ever know a person with that name?”

“No and she doesn’t look like anyone I ever met.”

“Well, brown hair is fairly common.”

“You know, there are times when it looks like she has a gold eye.”

“And you only mention that now because?”

“Thought it was my imagination.”

The friends laugh at the statement, Apollo joining in after a minute of wondering why his honest answer got such a response. Without warning, Thomas stops and nearly drops his phone as he jumps to his feet. Tapping at the screen, he curses at how he loses his signal and the screen goes black. Searching his bag for the charger, the excited student realizes that he left it in his room and scrambles to get his jacket on. Nearly hitting himself in the face with the door, Thomas skids to a stop and waves to the others instead of saying goodbye. They can hear a loud whistle from the front desk, the sound probably another way for Marcy to get attention without speaking a word.

With a tired sigh, Apollo grabs his satchel and prepares to trudge after his roommate. “Sorry about that and wasting your night, guys. I’m sure you had better things to do. If you get to Chris’s game then tell him good luck from me and Aurora. Have a feeling that Thomas isn’t going to let me have a peaceful night.”

“At least he keeps your life interesting,” Bryce says with a half-hearted smile. She watches for a minute to make sure Apollo is out of earshot before grabbing Harvey by the wrist. “What was that about? I mean, Thomas has always been easily excited, especially when he has a mystery on his hands. All I can guess is that he recognized the name.”

“I think it was the mention of golden eyes,” Harvey points out, his curiosity only slightly peaked. Getting up to leave, he hears a loud bang from the back of the library and the table jumps slightly. “Must be closing up, so we should head out. I’ll walk you home and we can keep talking. Not that there’s much to discuss. Apollo and Aurora have been struggling with this dream for a long time. She has decided to ignore it while he suffers, but that’s all we have to go on. Let Thomas do the research and leap down whatever rabbit hole has caught his attention. It’s what he’s good at.”

Bryce puts on her coat and takes her time buttoning it, the idea of going back to her quiet room very unappealing. “Apollo had a good idea. Let’s root for Chris and see if he gets picked by the scout. Is that how it works? I might spend a lot of time in the gym and talking with the athletes, but I don’t know much about the professional side. Probably should learn more if I want to become a sports trainer. Do you hear something strange?”

A sense of dread in his gut, Harvey peeks out the door and swears that the building looks larger than before. The repetitive bangs get louder as the students leave the study lounge, the door slamming shut and locking behind them. It takes them a second to realize that the stacks are falling towards them, the metal shelves glinting in the fluorescent lights. They hear other late-working students scream as they are caught in the collapse, disturbing crunches cutting off their voices. Harvey stays a step behind Bryce, the tall man hoping to use his own body to shield her if they are not fast enough. Eyeing the stacks, he is unsure if he can hold one up, but he is willing to try to protect his friend.

Coming to the corner of the study lounge section, the pair are caught by surprise when a shelving unit rolls into their path. Bryce jumps back to avoid getting crushed while Harvey whirls around to check the domino effect that is catching up to them. A young woman steps out from behind a column in time to get run over by the furniture. Her body remains stuck to the metal side as it crashes into the wall and starts rolling back, the corpse slowing it down. Not wanting to become trapped, the two students goes back to running even though they swear the exit was not this far away from the room.

Harvey gasps for air and holds his side, a cramp making it difficult to keep up with his friend. Waving for Bryce to continue running, he pushes himself to move while falling further behind. Shouts from above give them enough of a warning to avoid the students who are knocked off the second floor. A rain of bodies, glass, and furniture surrounds the pair, several shards sticking into their skin. As they reach the lobby, the carpeted section of the floor pivots and sends all of the shelves tumble towards the students. Doubting that he can make it, Harvey shoves Bryce from behind to help her reach the tiles that remain stable. He is unable to stay on his feet and falls, his body bouncing into a nearby stairwell. The young man vanishes among the crashing furniture and scraps of those who have already died in the chaos.

Bryce stares at the destruction that has sent pages flying into the air, but she keeps enough of her senses to get back to her feet. The library continues to shake, which Marcy ignores as she calmly checks a cart full of returns. With a sigh of annoyance, the librarian steadies a pile of books that threaten to topple over, but she does not show any interest in what is going on around her. More of the shelves topple over in the distance and lights fall from the ceiling, the milder carnage barely registering in the confused woman’s mind. It is only when a piece of paper flies by her face and cuts her cheek that Bryce is stirred into action. She backs away from the swarm of pages that dart towards her, each one leaving a narrow slice in her skin or clothes.

Opening her mouth to yell for help, the corners of her lips are slashed by a paper that thuds into the nearby wall. Blood dripping down her face, Bryce staggers toward the revolving door and falls inside. The exit refuses to move in the direction she pushes, instead going in reverse at a speed that slams her against the glass. She tumbles and curses as she is banged around, her head repeatedly hitting the floor and ceiling. Whirling around at a dizzying speed, the door abruptly stops and hurls Bryce back into the library. The barely conscious student sails over the page-covered tiles and slams into the only standing shelving unit. As she slumps to the ground, the heavy furniture tips over and crashes on top of her. The impact is enough to break the floor, most of which collapses into the basement.

Looking up from her returns, Marcy finally acknowledges the destruction and lets out a long sigh. Reaching under her desk, the librarian pulls out a dusty sign that is missing one of its suction cups. Remaining in her wheeled chair, she makes her way around the large hole in the floor and heads for the entrance. Wedging her shoe in the revolving door to stop it from moving, she locks the others and puts up the sign. Glancing over her shoulder, Marcy decides that being closed for a private event is close enough and snaps her fingers. As she rolls away, the glass darkens to prevent anyone from seeing inside, leaving only the sign visible from outside.

(The voices are calling to those who forgot to visit yesterday.)

Madras Christian College

“Pencils on the floor!” Mrs. Addison shouts, jolting Apollo from his test. Passing by his desk, she takes his test and rolls it up like a map. “Good to see you do the work instead of doodling like usual, Mr. Chambers. By the way, class, whoever gets the lowest grade will have to help Marcy in the library. She has bookworms and I promised to send her an expendable helper. Now, please take your regular seats.”

All of the students stand and move one chair to the left, none of them reacting when those already at the end fall through the wall. Sickening thuds can be heard in the ceiling, which seeps blood above Mrs. Addison’s desk. The ostrich standing by the board grabs a bucket to put under the drops before using its wings to wipe off the puddles. The creature’s feathers adopt a red tint as they absorb the liquid, which transforms it into a giant parrot. Staring at the students, the bird hovers in the air and waits for its master to give it a signal. The instant the teacher whistles, it soars at the students and grabs a young man in the back. He kicks and screams while getting dragged across the sandpaper-like carpeting. With a screeching song, the parrot veers out the door, which snaps shut and locks itself.

“I hope he isn’t afraid of bugs,” Mrs. Addison whispers, taking a seat on the front row of desks. Her legs stretch to abnormal lengths, so that she can put her feet on two students who massage her calves. “That will earn you extra credit. Now, I have some glorious news for everyone. It’s been a long time since I got to announce a new arrival. In fact, I don’t remember ever having to do it. She might be a little shy since the poor thing went through fire and brimstone to get here. Don’t hold your nose, Mr. Murphy, because I assure you that she had a bath first. Please come out and take the seat next to, Mr. Chambers. Oh, her name is Jennifer O’Connor. Probably should have said that first.”

Apollo abruptly realizes that he is back in his dream when he sees Jennifer walk out of a side door. Having never had a friend or family member appear in his recurring nightmare, the young man tries to wake himself up. All he receives is a dull ache in his groin, as if someone is grinding their heel into his crotch. Watching the unblinking redhead, Apollo notices a faint trail of smoke wafting off her skin. She is wearing a crimson dress that is singed around the edges and has to large burn marks around her lower back. Jennifer finally smiles when she sits next to him and clasps her hands in her lap. Tears flow down her cheeks until Mrs. Addison pops a bubble and a wave of heat dissolves the small droplets.

“Are you okay?” Apollo whispers while taking out his notebook. He yelps when their teacher leaps onto his desk and lifts him by catching his chin with her ruler. “I’m sorry for talking about of turn. She was crying and seemed upset. I didn’t want her to be scared and distract the class since you hate when that happens. Please put me down and I promise not to talk anymore.”

“Oh, I thought you were hitting on her,” Mrs. Addison replies, dropping Apollo back into his seat. She slaps a sucking candy on his desk and patiently waits for him to accept the tiny treat. “It’s spicy. Now, I will repeat one of my rules. There will be no sex in my classroom! I run a moral and clean ship here. Don’t make me teach with the black lights on because I’ll do it and ruin our fun. I swear, kids these days are like rabbits. Fluffy, adorable bunnies that you just have to hug until they crunch. Now, please open to page one thousand five hundred and eight.”

“There’s only three hundred pages in the book,” a nervous student in the front says.

With an angry growl, Mrs. Addison brings her ruler down with enough force to send most of his body through the floor. Only his hands remain and the quietly turn to the back of the book, which has the correct number scrawled in the corner. Not wanting the same treatment, the other students hurry to do what they are told. Two of them are too slow for their teacher, who snaps her fingers as she passes by their seats. One of the books grows teeth and leaps to gnaw on the flailing woman’s neck, which stretches to accommodate the attack. The young man watches his classmate continue to get mauled while his body balloons and floats toward the ceiling. Gently hitting one of the sprinklers, he explodes and sends a rain of gore splattering onto the front of the room. With a tired sigh, a six-armed janitor comes out from under the teacher’s desk and goes about cleaning the mess.

Jennifer mumbles incoherently and coughs up ashes, her hands blindly fumbling with her book. Deciding that he has nothing to lose, Apollo helps her get to the right page and puts a pen next to her quivering hand. He is about to call the teacher over for help when he remembers it is a dream, so he tries to calm his friend down by thinking very hard. A ripple runs through the room and Jennifer sits upright, the smoke flowing from her body coming out in thick plumes that cover the floor. Unsure of what he did, Apollo tries to undo the damage by wishing it away, but one of his classmates bursts into flames. Panic sets in and his mind wanders, every thought creating a vivid change in the scenery. Windows pop out of the walls to show grotesque landscapes while fake stars drop from the ceiling, their tips dripping glistening acid. Turning to Jennifer, he is about to apologize when her chair turns into a metallic Venus flytrap and slams shut around her. Tufts of his friend’s hair stick out from between the crystalline teeth and one of her feet remains on the floor. To Apollo’s surprise, the severed part shows no blood or bone, but has charred wood on the inside.

“Someone is getting ripe,” Mrs. Addison squeals with glee. Golden spires erupt from the floor and she dances among them as her clothes melt away. “Sadly, little apple, it isn’t time for the big event. I’m going to have to put you back in the crisper. Don’t cry because we’ll meet again very soon.”

Sensing that he is about to be attacked, Apollo tries to get out of his chair, but finds that his skin has fused with the arms. Thrashing about, he is unable to free himself before a blast of cold erupts from beneath him. He tries to scream as his body is turned into ice, but his throat closes before he can get the sound out. Frozen with a face of fear and agony, Apollo can only watch as Mrs. Addison takes a seat on his desk. Her brown hair grows around her naked body before separating and becoming a chocolate-colored dress. One of her eyes turns gold as she inspects her captured prey, a playful song slipping from her ruby-lipped mouth. Satisfied that he is contained, she pokes her student in the forehead and watches him topple backwards. Apollo shatters against the smoke-covered floor and his pieces fly in every direction, his eyes seeing only an approaching wall before he jolts awake.

(Remember the good old days? If not then CLICK HERE.)

Christ’s College in Cambridge

Jennifer stops when she sees Charlene leaving the sorority house, the administrator dressed in an ebony pantsuit. Her mouth goes dry when the woman turns to her and waves before ducking into a waiting taxi. The confused student watches the vehicle go by, the windows too dark for her to see what is going on inside. She continues to stare until it disappears around the corner and a rumble of thunder snaps her out of the trance. Cautiously heading up the uneven walkway, Jennifer looks around for the sisters and is freaked out that there are none on the patio or in the windows. The shades have been drawn to prevent anyone from seeing inside, which is unusual for the daytime. Getting to the door, she calms herself down with some breathing exercises and takes the pause to listen through the keyhole. The two actions offset each other, so she goes inside with the same amount of tension she had several minutes ago.

To Jennifer’s horror, every sister, pledge, and friend of the sorority has gathered on the main floor of the house. A sea of scowls and whispered curses meet the nervous theater major when she closes the door and steps further inside. Intimidated by the massive crowd, she stays near the wall and attempts to inch her way upstairs with her head down. Jennifer gets to the first step when the mob parts and shows her what they have prepared for her arrival. The other students have brought all of her belongings to the center of the lounge, which has been cleared out of furniture. Several of the silent students have bottles of lighter fluid, their hands dripping from enthusiastically dousing the pile. Those with matches are standing near the windows, a mad glint in their hungry eyes. Jennifer opens her mouth to speak when one of her former friends steps forward to slap her across the face.

“Don’t you dare try to say that you don’t want any trouble,” the freckled student hisses like a cornered cat. Tying back her blonde hair, she returns to the mob and signals for them to continuing bathing the pile in lighter fluid. “Charlene is revoking our charter because of what you did. She said our parties and acts of vandalism have been tolerated long enough. You killing Natalie and James was the final straw that they couldn’t overlook. Now, we all have to be punished when our only mistake was letting a psychopath into our home.”

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Jennifer timidly argues while she massages her aching jaw. She ducks when another sister tries to hit her again, but a kick to her leg knocks her to the floor. “Let me talk to Charlene tomorrow. Coach Warner said only I had to leave. He didn’t tell me anything about this, so let me fix it. At least let me get my photos and some of my clothes. For god’s sake, how can any of you think I killed Natalie and James? Do I really look like I have the strength or even the ability to do that?”

“You are a theater major, so you could have been faking it,” says a drunken voice from the middling of the pack. Emboldened by the nods of agreement, the short girl pushes through the crowd until she can grab Jennifer by the ear. “You ruined our futures, bitch. Charlene isn’t going to let us off the hook so easily. She thinks our influence drove you to kill, so she’s keeping an eye on all of us. This might even be noted on our records, which is something I didn’t even think was possible or legal. All because Natalie hurt your feelings?”

“She was trying to drive me out of the house.”

“Then you should have left.”

“I didn’t want to leave. This was my home.”

“Well, you sure as hell didn’t care enough about us to commit murder off the property.”

“I didn’t kill anyone!”

“Nobody believes you, O’Connor, so stop wasting your breath.”

With a high-pitched whistle from the seniors, those with the matches get close to the soaked pile and begin setting it on fire. Cheers go up as clothing ignites and posters swiftly turn to ember-tinted ashes. Sparks fly from the computer and television, which release foul-smelling pops as they burn. An acridness fills the air as Jennifer’s collection of makeup and paints melt into puddles, the stench making her think something toxic was added to the mixture. Blocked from getting close, the theater major can only watch everything she owns go up in smoke that lingers around the ceiling. Staring at the thickening cloud, the thought of suffocating crosses her mind, but she is kicked whenever she attempts to move or speak.

It takes a few minutes for the furniture to start crumbling, which causes the pile to fall apart and spread toward the crowd. Those closest to the bonfire do nothing to get out of the way, their legs struck by the fiery refuse. With screams, most of them fall back in pain, but three pitched forward and land in the flames. Having shown no concern for getting lighter fluid on themselves, the students ignite as quickly as the posters and struggle to get back to their feet. One of them becomes trapped beneath the desk, her shouts for help falling on panicking ears. The other two get free and lunge to their friends for help, but they only spread the flames and force the rest of the crowd to shove all of them into the inferno. With the added fuel, the bonfire licks at the ceiling and pumps out smoke that smells of burning flesh. None of the sisters try to escape even though their eyes are filled with terror, the only time they move being to prevent Jennifer from crawling away.

The tension snaps when one of the pledges tackles a senior into the flames, the pair battling while they burn. Jennifer huddles in the corner as violence breaks out throughout the main floor of the house. Those who are too scared to fight are chased upstairs where the smoke is so thick that only their choking silhouettes can be seen in the cloud. One of the newer members comes falling to the foyer, her neck snapping on impact. Nobody else emerges from the second floor, their faint gasps and coughs lasting for a few minutes Others fight blow for blow, the brawls typically ending with both people falling into the growing inferno. A high-pitched scream startles everyone as one of the seniors rips off her best friend’s arm and begins beating her with it, foam flying from both of their mouths. Cheers rise up at the scene as more try to tear into their opponents with a primal ferocity. Throughout the bloodbath, the fire continues to spread as if driven to swallow the entire building.

A finger falling on her leg snaps Jennifer out of her fear and she tries to make a mad crawl for the door. Staying low to avoid the smoke, she mutters every prayer that she can remember, including fictional ones for movies. Hearing footsteps coming towards her, she turns around to see the short sister approaching. Jennifer tries to move faster, but her ankle is grabbed and she is dragged toward the bonfire. Grabbing an umbrella, she twists her body and flails at the other student’s hands. The weak blows have no effect on the student whose eyes have become glazed with an oily film. Charged from the side, the sister lets go with one hand to lash out and snap the neck of her attacker. Out of ideas and stricken with fear, Jennifer opens the umbrella in the hopes of hitting the other woman in the face. Instead, the ribs extend and stretch to form a mouth that snaps off the upper half of the student’s body like a crocodile. Horrified by the unexpected event, the theater major drops the umbrella and scrambles under a table.

“Please be a dream,” Jennifer whimpers while staring at the hand on her ankle. She gingerly pries it off and nearly throws up before she gets free, the severed body part seeping onto her shoe. “This doesn’t make any sense. Fire . . . People shouldn’t be able to do any of this. It’s insane. I’m going to die in the middle of insanity. Unless this is a dream. Maybe I fell asleep on the bus. After all, none of this can happen. It’s not real. It’s not . . . normal.”

“Never any fun in normal,” a voice coos from a wall outlet.

The chaos freezes in midmotion as a chilling laugh rolls down the stairs and blows out all of the windows. Fed by the rush of fresh air, the inferno explodes and rapidly consumes everything in the house. Dancing figures can be seen in the flames, their movements matching those of the faint arm that extend from the smoke over. Charred bodies fall to the floor while Jennifer closes her eyes, a sudden sense of weightlessness the last thing she feels before passing out.

(Running out of funny things to post here for the links.)

Ohio University

Coach Warner stands on the other side of the soundproof study room, his unblinking eyes never straying from Jennifer. A ring of black hair is around his head, which has been polished to shine when struck directly by the hanging lamp. Taking off his green jacket, the teacher exposes his burly arms that makes the student think of a tattooed bear. He casually rubs his precious collection, which are a patchwork of pictures that vary in style, color, and subject. Scratching at his leg, Coach Warner reveals that he has more on his legs, which are toned and look like they could kick through concrete. Satisfied that the silence has done its job on Jennifer’s nerves, he takes out a folder and drops it on the table. Pictures of Natalie and James’s dead bodies slide toward Jennifer, who clenches her eyes shut and looks away.

“Either you didn’t do this or you’re a better actress than your grades imply,” the Coach says, his chiseled face showing no sign that he is joking. Taking a seat, he pulls out a notepad and repeatedly taps a pen on the cover. “Now, the police seem to think you’re the one behind this. I told them they’re wrong, but my word isn’t going as far as it should. Too many people are aware of your roommate’s attempts to drive you away, which gives you motive. At the very least, you will be taken away for a while in order to be watched. That is unless you can give me an alibi or something that shifts the blame to someone else.”

“Why is the hockey coach doing an interrogation?” Jennifer asks, blurting out the first thing that comes to her mind. A wave of fear ripples through her body when the teacher snarls, his eyes appearing to turn black. “I snuck into the library and slept in one of the study rooms. There was too much noise in the house and I didn’t want to drag my friends into this. How can anybody believe I did this? James was snapped in half and suffocated while Natalie had her eyes gouged out by glass that was found lodged in her throat. Whoever did this had to be insanely strong and have cuts on their hands. Neither of those apply to me.”

“I agree, but the police have no other suspects,” Coach Warner mentions while he watches her face. Seeing her avert her eyes from the pictures, he nods his head and scrawls a barely legible note. “To answer your first question, I am here because I have some contacts with the police department. Old friends who owe me favors, but a double homicide with this amount of brutality is too much for them. Word has already spread and some people are thinking you’re a blossoming serial killer.”

Shoving the pictures away, the weeping student puts her head on the table. “I can’t believe this. Did I hate Natalie? Not really. We didn’t get along, but I only wanted her to stop bullying me. Killing her would have been a ridiculous and stupid move because of exactly what is happening now. Our problems weren’t a secret, so I’m the logical suspect. Did it ever occur to the police that she was angering other people and one of them waited until I was in a position to take the blame? I mean, we’re dealing with insane scenarios, so why not go into a full conspiracy theory? Natalie made an enemy of someone with the strength to snap her beefy boyfriend in half like a twig and then kill her with broken glass. How about it being two killers? Anybody talk to Bigfoot and Bloody Mary yet?”

“This is not the time to get angry and irrational.”

“It’s the perfect time for that!”

“Have your outburst, but I still have a question.”

“I don’t need your permission to get upset!”

Coach Warner leans back in his chair and stares at the young woman, her body quivering from fear and rage. He considers putting the pictures away, but he prefers the sight of them keeping Jennifer on edge. The man’s eyes narrow as he examines every movement and inch of her for hints that she is lying. While he doubts that she has the strength to kill James, Coach Warner can think of at least two of her friends who could work together to do the deed. As far as Natalie, he knows a thick pair of gloves would have protected the red-haired student from injuring her hands. Although, he doubts she could have accomplished such a meticulous murder without getting hurt in the struggle.

“I will see what I can do with the police,” Coach Warner finally says while attempting to soften his voice. Hating the sound and feeling phlegm in his throat, he goes back to his stern and gravely tenor. “There is only one piece of information that I need. You said that you snuck into the library, which is something administration will overlook. No sign of you on the security cameras, so I need you to tell me if anybody else was in the building. Did you see Marcy, a janitor, or even another student?”

“Didn’t even know there were cameras,” Jennifer sheepishly admits. Feeling a little more comfortable with the promise of help, she leans back and stares at the hanging lamp. “I didn’t see anybody since I didn’t want to be caught. There were voices from the basement. Not sure if they were the janitors, but I did hear Marcy. Possibly Charlene too, which was weird. To be honest, I was really tired and could have been wrong. None of them knew I was there, so I don’t think this can be of much help.”

“Actually, I should be able to work with that,” the teacher replies as he finishes his notes. He taps his fingers a few times while considering other questions. “Please go back to the sorority and wait in the lounge for one of us. Your time as a pledge will be over, but Charlene is already looking for another room. Aurora Chambers is an option since we recently learned that her roommate dropped out. We’re sorry about the delay, Ms. O’Connor. Thank you for being patient with us.”

Happy to get out of the room and find something to eat, Jennifer grabs her bag and hurries out the door. The lights flicker and start to dim as Coach Warner collects the pictures, the man taking a moment to examine each one. He licks his lips at one that shows the lopsided bed, which the police never took a second look at. Putting the folder in his satchel, he is stricken by a mild pain in his skull that rolls to the base of his spine. It takes several minutes of the sensation running up and down his back before he falls to his knees. Taking in a gasping breath, Coach Warner looks at the window that has been blackened from the outside.

“I was told that we had more time, but you are in charge,” he whispers, blood-tinted drool falling from his mouth. Scratching at his arm, he winces when he almost pulls off one of the tattooed skin patches that have been grafted to his own flesh. “Most of them aren’t ready, but things can be pushed ahead. I agree that patience is not easy to maintain. We will do what we can to increase the speed of our work. Thank you and I look forward to seeing you again. It has been far too long for all of us.”

Coach Warner waits until the aches in his body fade away before he stands, his legs shaking slightly. Keeping his eyes on the window, he backs out of the room and closes the door as softly as possible. The instant the deadbolt clicks, a flock of ebony ravens burst off the side of the building and let the sun shine into the empty lounge.