Page 9 of The Blood we Crave

the phantom

ONE

lyra

“Lyra, when you said it would be intricate, I didn’t think you meantthis.”

My body flinches at the voice.

I’m used to being the one who blends into the shadows, sneaking up on people and spooking them. It’s rare that I find myself startled by someone’s presence.

But the select few that see me, I hold them close to me.

I set down the pair of tweezers I was wielding like a weapon, lift my glasses onto my head, and glance at the doorway of the classroom. It’s mid-August, so teachers have been on campus for a few weeks, and students have slowly filtered into their dorms.

During the summers, Hollow Heights is peaceful, with no hustle and shuffle of students. The old doors creak with the wind. You can hear the waves crashing into the cliffs just below the Kennedy District, and everything seems a little more haunting.

The winding stairways groan beneath your feet, and it’s impossible not to listen to it because of the vacant halls. Sitting in the library has been said to drive people crazy when it’s empty—the books start to whisper to one another, and voices that are anything but human fill the void.

That’s all a rumor, of course.

But I like it.

Having this place practically all to myself, I enjoy being alone. Even though I could have gone without going through Dean Sinclair to secure a key to the lab. Being around him is what I imagine drowning yourself in toxic masculinity feels like. He always has a way of making you feel beneath him, constantly making sure it’s known he is the smartest in the room.

Besides the patriarchy, I love Hollow Heights when it embraces its spooky character.

“It took forever for me to get the lunas in.” I motion towards the pale green insect laid out on wax paper. “I would’ve finished it a week ago had they come in on time.”

Conner Godfrey strolls through the doorway, sporting a denim button-down that is rolled to his elbows. His sandy-blond hair is swept out of his eyes and styled neatly. I’ve gotten accustomed to his handsome company since summer started, considering this is going to be his classroom for the coming semester.

Since Greg West, the previous organic chemistry teacher, who was brutally murdered last year, was no longer available to teach, the university needed more than just a substitute to replace him. Mr. Godfrey, or I guess Professor Godfrey, had been the school’s guidance counselor, but with his various degrees, he’d volunteered to take Mr. West’s place.

It came as a shock to everyone—well, mostly everyone—when investigators revealed that his death was most likely due to his drug involvement. Making ecstasy for underage kids apparently gets you on some shady radars.

They chalked it up to a deal gone wrong, an unhappy customer or a jilted distributor. And that was enough for the citizens of Ponderosa Springs. Everything but the truth is good for this place.

I’m not sure what aggravates me more about that.

The fact these people are so dull they would eat whatever bullshit is fed to them or how people could see Greg West’s body, see the proficient cuts, the meticulous disembodiment, and think for one second anyone other than an artist was responsible for his death.

That body had been drained of blood, bleached, and dissected so perfectly that there was no way a disgruntled buyer who did ecstasy was liable. They did not have the skill or the patience to do that.

Not likehim.

“Patience is a virtue, Lyra. I think the wait was well worth it, was it not? I mean, look at those colors!” Conner’s enthusiastic voice yanks me out of my head, away from where my thoughts wanted to drift, where they always drift.

I peer down at the antique glass dome, the lid set to the side, leaving it open. Six different moth species are scattered along the sides of a faux human skull I’d found at a taxidermy shop.

Atlas, isabella tiger, black witch, garden tiger, peppered. A collection of my favorite moths are strategically laid across the top and sides of the skull. I’d saved the spot just above the eye sockets for the luna moth. I know the pale green anatomy would tie everything together.

I’d dispersed them, creating a swarm of stunning winged creatures that would be breathtaking once I placed the glass lid on top of the base and secured it close. A smile takes over my face as I think about the finished project.

Briar is going to love this. Oh, and Silas!

Maybe the facility will let me bring him some pictures the next time I visit so he can see them. The majority of the time when I drive up to Washington to see him, our visit consists of him trying to teach me how to play chess and me failing miserably. I try to fill the void of silence by talking too much, but I think he likes when I talk about my taxidermy.

His eyes kinda twitch at the sides, and sometimes, it looks like he might even smile, but that hasn’t happened yet. So, I settle for silence, knowing my company is enough for him.

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