Page 218 of The Blairville Legacies

Chapter 50

Bayla

I would love to be with Julie and her cute golden retriever puppy, whose soft fur Grace loved to use as a pillow for her head when she watched her series about female prison inmates.

That’s how quickly pets became tools...

The dog was immediately namedBuddyby Larissa, to which only I objected.

“That’s not a dog’s name...” I had told her.

In any case, the name hadn’t really been creative. But you couldn’t argue with Larissa. If that were the case, I’d be snuggled up in my bed with a good book right now and not out here snooping around the university director’s office in this storm.

The moon was shining brightly, but that was of little use to me because it was still pitch black.

The room was surprisingly large, and the gigantic windows reminded me of those in a castle.

Larissa had simply thrown me into the lion’s den. All I needed was scary piano music, and I wouldn’t be able to control my fear.

I was in the office of my English professor, who was also the university director and one of the Copelands, which didn’t make my situation much better.

Grace had warned us about the Copelands yesterday, even though the excuse about the drugs had beenreally bad. Larissa did not believe that for a second, I was sure of it.

Knowing that Professor Copeland was one of those hairy beasts made my goosebumps break out again. I hated knowing all this. It scared the shit out of me at that very moment.

I slowly walked across the wooden floorboards of the large room.

The ceiling was very high, and I wondered what the room had originally been built for. Had this always been a university?

Suddenly it became brighter.

I stopped and stared in horror at the candles in the room, whose flames gradually lit up.

What the...

I blinked. Once. Once more.

This wasn’t normal.Nothing in this town was normal.

I tried to ignore the dimmed candlelight and kept walking.

My gaze fell on the two-step stone staircase that led down to seating and a fireplace decorated with stone serpents.

Of course.Snakeseverywhere.Ornamentseverywhere. The building had many unusual mixes of architectural styles. But everything at Vanderwood University radiated a certain glow, something almost mystical and fairytale-like.

To the left and right of the room, the walls were decorated with green exotic plants and bookshelves, as was the wall at the end where I was standing.

The candlelight shone on the bookshelves, which contained numerous first editions.

Just like in this witch’s house, my curiosity grew, and I walked around the solid oak desk with its velvety emerald green armchairs and the dark-brown leather office chair on the other side. Everything looked so classy, almost antique and yet in good condition.

I stroked the covers.

Of course, they were classics that everyone must have heard of.Middle MarchbyGeorge ElliotorBleak HousebyCharles Dickens. But other, lesser-known works by authors I hadn’t heard of before also immediately caught my eye.

Tack.

I glanced at the door, where a clock was hanging, which suddenly began to play a soft melody. The hands of the clock showed me that it was already midnight.

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