Page 124 of Bad for Me

Time.

I glance at my phone as I push through the literature building’s double doors to see there’s only forty-five minutes until I get to see her again. Last night, I barely slept knowing that only a few hours separated me from seeing her and telling her how I feel. I’ll have to wait until after class, but that’s okay, I’m patient. Sometimes.

A laugh at my own expense huffs from my chest and echoes softly through my dark classroom. I switch on the lights, and they hum to life, revealing the auditorium seats and desks, the polished hardwood floors, and the last person I thought I’d ever see here.

“What the fuck is so funny, son? Don’t you know the shit you’ve stepped in?”

My father stands at the foot of the auditorium’s small stage, his arms crossed in his signature black Brioni suit, but the jovial smile he’s known for is gone. In its place is a scowl, and his face is purple with anger.

Shit.

Dread freezes my veins. I haven’t seen that face in years, and my mind instantly refuses to acknowledge the most likely reason he’s here, opting for humor instead.

“Were you really sitting in the fucking dark for dramatic effect?”

“I couldn’t find the light switch,” he grumbles. “And your office door was locked.”

“Well let me remedy that,” I mutter as I start down the stairs again. I raise my voice to ask the question I’m terrified to hear the answer to. “Twice in one week, hm? And to what do I owe the honor?”

Please don’t fucking say it. Please don’t fucking say it?—

My phone vibrates in my hand, and I glance at it to turn it off. But when I see Everly’s name, I can’t help but stop where I am on the steps and swipe the text message open.

Everly

GravChat posted a rumor this morning about a student and teacher. Someone knows, Woods. I think we were caught.

According to the timestamp of her text, she sent the message nearly an hour ago, but the foggy mountains have always made the service here suck. Now it’s fucking me over.

Goddammit. I let myself have hope for the first time in years, and that one message tears it all to shreds. I can feel the blood drain from my face, leaving me cold again. My hands shake and I nearly miss my pocket as I try to stow my phone away. I try to keep my composure despite the denial clanging through my mind.

No. No. No. We didn’t have enough time. Fuck.

When I meet my father’s gaze again, I’m ready for his wrath. I may look calm on the outside, but he’ll know there’s a problem as soon as he sees my face. He’s always known me better than myself. Days ago that would’ve pissed me off, but for now I’m grateful I’ll have an ally for whatever fallout may come.

His eyes narrow at my expression, and he shakes his head. “Goddammit. It’s true, isn’t it?”

“How did you find out?” I ask as I slowly make my way down the stairs and past him toward my office. He stops me by waving a black envelope in my face.

“This wasmailedto me.” My heart freezes at the sight of the broken red seal, and it drops to my stomach as he hands me the letter inside.

The black parchment feels rough in my hands, the same as it did the last time I held one my senior year at Graveston. My eyes blur the ink, but I can still make out the crow with the tattered rag wrapped around its head, blinding its vision, and his foot tipping the scales of justice. The signet of the Order of Crows.

The Order is a brutal organization that was solely invented to keep Graveston University’s reputation squeaky clean at all costs. Every Crow has heard the tale of how Mordecai Graveston cemented the importance of burying secrets for the sake of the university’s reputation. The Order’s mission began with the “disappearance” of one of Graveston University’s two founders. One founder was never heard from again, while Mordecai had a university named after him. Not only that, he and his closest confidantes lived long, wealthy lives in positions of power and esteem.

But every Crow suspects there’s more to the story. We’re just too caught up in fulfilling—and reaping the benefits of—our deal with the Devil to buck against the status quo and find out why the Order is so invested in the university.

All we know is the school’s reputation is paramount. The most influential people in the world study here and go on to do great things. They need the university’s reputation to stay intact and vice versa. The Order protects both. Every alum who’s made a name for himself or herself outside these stone walls has unknowingly depended on the Crows to bury secrets that could damn them. The Missive—the mysterious, nameless head of the Order—is the kingmaker, and the Crows are his executioners. As a former Crow, I received too many of these letters while I was in undergrad here, and this moment feels horrifyingly familiar. A nightmare I’ve tried to forget.

The Missive has sent commands the same way since before my father was a Crow. He leaves them in the Trinity Chapel bell tower and gives the Crows on campus a signal that only we would notice so that one could come check for a letter. And on the note? A single name. That’s all we ever received, but the implications were clear. The Missive wanted that person gone, and we had to make that happen by any means necessary. How we did that was up to us, so long as whatever secret they carried was buried with the name and nothing we did could be traced back to the university.

I’ve never heard of the Missive mailing a letter to a former Crow. And my father’s letter doesn’t have a single name. Instead, the message informs him that I’ve “given into temptation” with Everly. If the Missive deemed this secret important enough to notify my father, then I’m not just in trouble, my life is on the line. And so is Everly’s.

My father snatches the letter and returns it to the envelope before sliding it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He glances around the empty room before giving me a pointed look.

“We should take this to your office, Woodrow.”

I nod once and retrieve the antique key from my key ring like I’ve done hundreds of times before. Today, though, my fingers tremble, and I curse my nerves for getting the best of me.

---