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Art History class was cancelled that next day, of course.
The department building was quiet, no students inside today. Just professors working privately in their offices. Rumor around campus had it that Professor Keaton was expected to make a full recovery. He was still in the hospital, but someone had heard another of the professors mention that Keaton could be discharged and back to work in a couple weeks or less. It was the only good news to come out of the whole, awful situation.
Savannah only wished Rachel had been as fortunate too.
It was her friend's death that brought Savannah back to the Art History department that morning, even though there was no class to attend. She slipped inside the building, inexplicably drawn to the scene of the terrible crime.
Why had Rachel and Professor Keaton been attacked? And by whom?
The antique sword was valuable, certainly, but was it enough to warrant such a heinous, lethal assault?
As Savannah climbed the stairs to the second floor of the building, she felt a bit like she was heading for her own Seat Perilous, on a quest for a truth she wasn't certain she was prepared for, or equipped to face.
The police detectives were long gone, the barricades and tape removed from the scene. Still, simply being there put a chill in Savannah's veins as she neared Professor Keaton's office door down the hallway. But she needed to see the room again. She hoped to find something inside that she'd overlooked, something that would provide some sense of understanding of what happened, and why.
Keaton's office door was closed and locked. So was the archive and study room next door.
Shit.
Savannah jiggled the doorknob, for all the good it did. There would be no getting past the locks. Not unless she wanted to head downstairs and try to persuade one of the department professors to let her in.
Even though she made it a practice to avoid lying and manipulation, her mind started working on a host of excuses that might win her access to the rooms. She accidentally left one of her books for another class inside and needed it for an upcoming exam. She lost her student ID and thought it might be with her notebook in the study room. She needed to finish cataloguing one last item in the archive collection to make sure she got her extra credit for the project once Professor Keaton returned to school.
Right. One idea more lame than another.
Not that the honest answer would be any more convincing: She wanted to go through Professor Keaton's office and touch everything in sight with her bare hands, to see if she could pick up any clues that the police might have missed.
Deflated, Savannah started to pivot away to leave. As she turned, something caught her eye farther down the hallway on the floor. A thin circle of metal.
Could it be what she was thinking?
She hurried over to look, feeling both excited and sickened to see the delicate bangle at her feet. She recognized it immediately. One of Rachel's bracelets. It must have fallen off her wrist when they were wheeling her body away.
Savannah's whole being recoiled at the sight of the bloodstained evidence of Rachel's suffering. But she had to touch the bracelet. Whatever the tragic memento had to tell her, Savannah had to know.
She picked it up off the floor, closed her fingers around the cold metal ring.
Her extrasensory gift woke up immediately. The jolt from the bracelet overwhelmed her, the memory housed in the metal so horrifically fresh.
She saw Rachel in Keaton's office. Her face was twisted in stark, mortal terror.
And it didn't take long for Savannah to understand why....
Without warning, she was suddenly looking into the face of Rachel's attacker as the beast closed in.
And it was a beast. The same kind of fiery-eyed, fanged monster that Savannah had been trying to forget since she touched the old sword. Except this monster wasn't dressed in a hooded cloak like the group that killed the little boys. This beast wore an expensive-looking dark suit and crisp white shirt. A gentleman's refined clothes and richly styled, brown hair, but the face of a nightmarish monster.
The creature lunged for Rachel, its razor-toothed jaws open as it went for the girl's throat.
Oh, my God.
Impossible. She couldn't be seeing this, not again. It could not be real.
Was she losing her mind?
Savannah couldn't breathe. Her lungs constricted, burned in her chest. Her heart slammed hard, drumming in her ears. She couldn't find her voice, even though her entire body seemed to be screaming.
She gaped down at the bracelet now resting in her upturned palm. Every instinct told her to throw it away, as fast and as far as she could. But it was all that remained of her friend.
