Page 94 of Switching Graves

We all share a look, silently debating if we should outright ask her about the Syndicate that Finley refers to. Before I realize that we’ve settled on doing it, Beatrix clears her throat.

“Are you referring to the Midnight Syndicate?”

Matilda nods once. “I am.”

“They’re real?” Ava blanches, tugging on the neckline of her shirt.

“Absolutely. And they’re much closer than you realize.” The last statement is directed toward me.

“What do you mean?”

“The Midnight Syndicate reaches far beyond Nocturne Valley. You would be surprised who is a part of it. Everything from family members, friends . . . Lovers.”

Beatrix scrunches her nose. “Trust me, none of us have any lovers,” she laughs.

Matilda offers her a tight, condescending smile. “Sure.”

Shaking my head, I quickly change the subject before Matilda tattles on me once again. “What am I supposed to do after the woods?”

Her teasing expression sobers. “You’ll know.”

47

Sonny

Ava and Beatrix made me feel even worse about going into the woods when we got back to campus. They tried every tactic they could think of to change my mind—from bears and ghosts to freezing to expulsion from the school—but something about this feels too significant to give up that easily.

The tree line is directly behind Devlin, which makes it easier to sneak in without being caught by another student, yet more probable that I could be seen by a faculty member. I came up with a plan to go early in the morning, before the sun fully rises and most are still asleep. From there, the only direction Matilda offered was to head East until I found the first stop.

Whatever that means.

Tall trees with wide trunks greet me as I approach, their sparse autumn canopies still managing to stubbornly block the sunlight. As soon as I step into the tree line, it’s like everything goes silent. Any noise from the campus or the city beyond dissipates at once, and I can’t even hear so much as a birdsinging or a squirrel scattering around. The floor is a dangerous mess of vines, dead leaves, and fallen logs.

As far as I can tell from the undisturbed foliage, no one has been out here in a while.

I’m not sure what was in the tonic she gave me that has my stomach turning and sweat dripping down my temples.

“Take this and go into the woods,” is all she said for the third time before we left her shop. But nothing has happened in the twenty minutes since I guzzled the tart drink down and tucked the vial into my pocket.

What kind of guidance is that? I need more clear instructions than?—

I stop in my tracks as something flickers in the sides of my vision.

Fuck. I’m going to pass out.

Stumbling over the mess of rocks and twigs covering the forest floor, I stretch my arm out to lean against the nearest tree. The instant my skin comes in contact with its rough bark, a vision plays in my mind for the first time since I’ve stepped foot in Nocturne Valley.

It starts off blurry, as they always do, but quickly clears up to reveal two boys dressed in black trousers and cream, round collared shirts sitting across from one another on two fallen logs. One boy has sandy locks that hang past his eyes and appears to be on the cusp of puberty with sparse facial hair growing in patches. The other keeps his near-black hair shaved close to his head with a short beard wrapping around his pouty lips.

They’re talking animatedly, but I can’t hear their words until the vision is crystal clear.

“—then you should consider heading west,” the older boy suggests with a serious expression. He’s got a stronger version of the accent I heard in Nocturne Valley, with words crisp and rounded.

The younger one shakes his head, and I can tell from being inside his head for so long that this one is Finley just from the stubborn way he speaks. “Absolutely not.”

“Finn,” the older one, who I assume is Lewis, draws out the name in irritation, confirming that my assumption was right. “You’ve got to get someplace safe before snow falls.”

They look so much younger than I imagined when I was reading the journals.

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