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Without looking, I know it’s Synclair Keyingham. Although I refuse to look up from my sushi, from the corner of my eye, I can see him, Royal, and Gemini heading to their table.
“That’s my cue,” I mutter.
“Huh?” Penny asks.
I give her a smile as I shake my head. “I’m heading to the library. Want to join me?”
Penny wrinkles her nose. “I hate libraries. Too quiet. I only go there when I need to, and that’s not this early in the semester.”
XI
Syn
The Elite and the initiates are punctual.
Glancing through the door, it looks like no one has disobeyed my orders and missed the meeting. Inside the room, there’s a low buzz of chatter, and the few snatches of conversation that I do hear are of confusion.
I’m not surprised. Formal meetings like this are rare, especially this close to the beginning of the semester.
Certainly not in the church.
The Elite have been part of the university since the first students passed through the doors back in the 1840s. The use of the church dates back to the Civil War, and legend has it, key strategies that helped win the war were discussed in the rooms under the church.
It’s probably true, but today, more important matters will be discussed.
“Lyle did a headcount. They’re all here,” Royal tells me.
While the church is almost as old as the founding of our country, over the last decade, modifications have been made for comfort and technology. The main rooms have retained the traditional interior—uncomfortable wooden pews included—but this room, hidden below the ground, has rows of informal armchairs for the initiated members of the Elite. The initiates, of course, are standing in the back.
The 65-inch 4K smart screen currently displays a 3D image of the university crest slowly spinning clockwise. There’s even a ‘discreet’ microphone designed to pick up the words of the speaker, and a state-of-the-art speaker system is hidden in the recesses of the wall.
Tugging at my shirt sleeves, I straighten my back and walk into the room. The second my foot hits the stone floor, the room falls silent, and the only sounds are breathing and my footsteps.
I don’t stop until I reach the front of the room, where I turn and face everyone. After three years, I know the names of everyone in here, including the initiates—even if they haven’t earned that acknowledgement yet.
Truth be told, I don’t like many of them, but they are the sons and daughters of most of the most influential families in the country. They’ll have their uses.
“Nearly three years ago, James Patrick Keyingham, JP, the reigning president, and my older brother, was murdered.”
Almost at once, the atmosphere in the room changes.
Although no one breaks the silence, it’s like I’ve spoken magic words that have ensured I have everyone’s full attention.
But if it is magic, it feels like black magic. A ghost has been summoned—one I’ve tried to banish. Although it’s invisible to everyone, including me, the moment I mention my brother’s name, it feels like something was in my chest and squeezing at my heart.
The pain is almost crippling, but if no one can see my ghost, they’re sure as hell not seeing my pain either. Like the grip on my heart isn’t hurting me at all, I keep my face blank and my back straight.
“His murderer was found at the scene, covered in his blood. That person is now serving a life sentence in prison,” I continue. “However, this year, his sister was accepted into this year’s freshman class.”
Several mouths drop open, and I can see a number of people look at each other, but still, the room remains silent until a junior raises his hand.
I nod. “Callum.”
“I assume a decision has been made to allow her to remain rather than having her expelled?”
I nod, unable to stop my smile. Should I choose to, I could have her removed from the campus in under twenty minutes. “She is to remain… until true justice has been served.”
“You want to kill her?”
