Page 34 of Speak

“Listen here, listen now, Raven Monroe ismine. She’s off fucking limits. If any of you have a problem, come to me and I’ll happily rip out your throat because no, you fucking don’t.” I say calmly. “Now shoo like the vermin you are.”

I decide not to go after her this time. Even I know when someone needs space. Granted, I’ve never had coffee dumped over my head, (just a few alcoholic beverages by sorority girls I’ve slept with while their sister is sucking my cock) I’m pretty sure she needs alone time.

“I’m gonna take a nap and hit the gym.” Chase announces. “See you there?”

I nod. Yeah, I definitely need to blow off some steam later. Besides, I know her schedule like my own. I’ll find out all of her secrets. She’ll never be able to hide from me ever again.

Chapter Ten

Raven.

Monica Culbert, 17, dies in house fire - 1956.

Jordan Johnson, 21, dies in bizarre car accident – 1956.

Dean O’Malley, 18, body found in ravine – 1957.

Sasha Thompson, 16, dies in apparent suicide – 1957.

Samson De Luca, accidental - Jonathan Thomas, body found – Ellory Santos, car accident – Savanah Lincoln, slaughtered.

I click through the images of all of these young adults over and over again. Going between the ledger and the News articles and obituaries online, then check the name on the ledger.

Monica Culbert – J. Remington - 1956

Jordan Johnson – S. Whitmore - 1956

I feel sick. Again. Every name in the ledger has been an accidental death, freak accident, suicide or murdered with no leads.

They’re getting away with it. These… these people, the members of the Syndicate, have been murdering people for over a century. Getting away with it all. They’re leaving the bodies to be found, none of them are missing peoples reports. No. They’re all accounted for.

But why?

After returning the ledger back where I found it this morning, (with no interruptions) I immediately came back and started working on researching the names. I skipped the rest of my classes yesterday after the whole coffee fiasco, and then skipped my classes today,staying in my room, not even leaving to eat. This was – is – too important.

I wish I could call Jonas, apologize for blowing him off yesterday and today. I wish I could call Damon. At least I knew he would never think I’m crazy even though I feel crazy.

I’ve only found a few whose names were crossed out and after researching, those are people that survived.

Jessica King– K. King

Jessica King, 19, Survives House Fire - 1965

Their own relative. Their ownrelativetried to kill them.

But then only a year later,Tremon Miller – K. King.

These aren’t just victims on the east coast, they’re fucking everywhere. All over the United States and some all over the UK, France, Germany. Ingrid Kreiger, 20, was a death in Germany. A lot of the victims were college or high school students, easily distracted. Easily peer pressured. Easily lured.

Younger girls considered underage here but consensual in other countries, also have freaky deaths.

If I’m reading this right, if the victim survives somehow, the Syndicate member still has to kill again. Or try.

But then… why leave the bodies?

I get up and go to my mini fridge stocked with my favorite strawberry-kiwi Snapple and continue down the gut-wrenching list. Women, men, they didn’t care. What ties did the victims have to the Syndicate? Did they have any? Were they random kills? Why were they murdered? Did they know something they shouldn’t?

Everything I’ve ever heard about the Syndicate was purely rumors when I was on campus years ago. A lifelong brotherhood that held super-duper secret meetings under the library or in the woods. It was hilarious… back then. Brina and I made jokes about this shit. Rayne-Moore was the safest place. Not even one rape allegation ever… never an attack so close to campus.

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