I took a slow march up the stairs of the Covenant, stumbling over a few sections before I decided to grab the handrail and try using it as a rough measuring stick for my movements. Slowly making my way to the third floor, with took a short trip down the hall and to the door up to the attic. Not locked, the stairs completely closed off to hide the insulation, I wasn’t even sure Samuel would hear me coming up if he was in his room.

  Almost confirming my suspicions, the man was still stopped over his desk, a laptop open and papers scattered about, when I entered. His reading glasses low on his nose, he only let out a low sigh as I nearly behind him, not looking up to ask, “shouldn’t you be resting?”

  “I want to help you first,” I said, trying to not sound like it was too much of a lie while I shuffled in place, “I…look, I’ll take a rest when this ghost is taken care of. It’s out there killing people, it’s probably killed people we don’t even know about, and it doesn’t help anyone if I don’t do anything.”

  “The Lady was very clear you were to rest,” he answered, not giving me the pleasure of a glance back as he closed his laptop and sat a few papers face down on the corner of his desk. “You’ve lost an eye, in case the lack of events to your right wasn’t an indication. It takes time to get used to that, it-”

  “People are dying, and it might be someone I give a fuck about next,” I snapped, walking over to stand beside him, “we can’t even remember Sigyn’s girlfriends name anymore, and you want me to just relax? She’s fucking crying in my room, she’s the one forgetting someone she loves, and you want me to relax and act like that’s not happening?”

  Samuel sat almost perfectly still for a long while, staring down at his desk while he slowly removed his readers and rose to his feet. Looking somewhere between angry and sad, he shook his head and struggled to change the subject with, “have you changed your bandages in a while? It’s important to do that a few times a day, at least before bed.”

  “You’re not listening to me,” I said, I failed to maintain my anger as I did answer him, “I didn’t have anything for it, Elizabeth didn’t send me off with anything.”

  “Sit down, I have some of the balm left and some bandages lying around,” Samuel said, immediately walking over to retrieve a duffle bag off the floor, “it should be healed by tomorrow night, the next day at most.”

  “Is it going to look any prettier?” I asked, not moving from where I stood as he went about setting up his supplies on the desk. From what I’d seen I could have expected a scarred and bloody looking eye for the rest of my life, which felt weirdly worse than if it’d been an empty socket.

  Samuel didn’t answer at first, obviously trying to come up with something diplomatic before he admitted, “the way your temple was healing you’ll probably be able to wear a normal eye patch that covers it easily. At the very most, in the worst case scenario, you’ll need something a little larger and more specialized to your face. That’s only if you need something that wraps around the side more, which I don’t think will be an issue and I’ve told The Lady as much.”

  “I’m going to be great at kid’s birthday parties,” I sighed out, even as the man gingerly unwrapped the bandages around my eye.

  Every action surprisingly hesitant from him, like he was afraid of hurting me, and I remained mostly silent as I watched him toss the old bandages aside and softly prod at the scarred tissue with his fingers. Asking me to try and blink, asking me to scrunch my face, running his fingers along the exposed bone on my temple and commenting on how soft it still felt. Finally pleased with what he saw and, applying a thick coating of the paste once more, wrapping the eye once more while obviously seeming to try and make it fit tighter this time.

  “The bone’s a little softer than I’d like, but it still looks like it’s growing so that makes sense,” the man muttered, clicking his tongue as he carefully wiped his hand clean on a nearby rag. “I’d avoid sleeping on that side for the next couple days, don’t want it hardening while you’re pressing on it, and let me do your bandages so they don’t hold it wrong. Infection’s not a risk for werewolves like it is for humans, but you’ll want to clean that eye regularly. I’m not sure the eye and socket itself will return full sensation, scars are a little weird about that, but you don’t want the healing to have any problems or end up with some dirt or grime healing in the wound.”

  “Great,” I muttered, looking around the room to distract myself before something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye.

  A figure in the corner, a shadowy man without features standing there smoking a cigar that left no smoke. My heart entering my chest at the sight, and a moment later the reason he was here hitting me rather hard.

  The one who heals you.

  Right, the pervert knew I’d had a couple opportunities to kiss this fucker and was mad I hadn’t just yet. Had to deal with that on top of trying to convince this man to go against The Lady and let me help him.

  This was my last time using this for information, I saw why Misha didn’t really talk about his experience too much.

  Clearing my throat, I tried to sound a little more tender, a little more diplomatic myself, and asked him, “could you at least let me look at what you have? I’ve been working on this longer than you, maybe I’ll-”

  “Allie got me two pictures of the ghost, I know what it looks like and I just need to locate the body,” he said, raising a hand with a sigh, “she’s running some searches, looking through old records, trying to find out where this girl might be buried. Once I know, I’ll perform a rite of banishment, or destroy the body, or whatever it looks like I need to do. I don’t think you can help me here, and honestly I don’t want you to help.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  I shook my head, realizing I wasn’t going to get through to him even as I pushed, “how do you know I can’t help unless you ask? This ghost’s fucking dangerous, it could kill you!”

  “Exactly, and that’s why you’re not helping,” the man snapped, crossing his arms as he glared down at me without even a hint of breaking, “you just lost an eye, you haven’t done any training to counter that during a fight, ghosts don’t tend to fight but this one seems violent. If a fight breaks out, you’re not in a condition where I can trust you won’t end up being a liability to me.”

  I stood there unsure of what to do, in honest disbelief he wasn’t even budging the tiniest bit here as I asked, “what the fuck is wrong with you? Okay, what if I didn’t go out in the field, just look at it, I’ll-”

  “We don’t even know exactly how this thing is killing people, we’re not doing that,” he snapped and, ignoring me, went back to cleaning his mess.

  Trying to not yell I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket, and checked it to see a call from Misha I promptly ignored. The last thing I needed was to start screaming in the middle of Samuel’s room because Misha was trying to be friendly while I was still wound up.

  Thrown off the conversation for only a moment, I hadn’t yet thought of a response when Samuel told me, “maybe you should go on a trip or something, get out of here, then this shit won’t be on your mind. You want, I’ll talk to The Lady, get you an extra couple weeks, you can go up to Canada for a bit. You’re always talking about wanting to get up there with your kid, this would be a good time to do it and get used to everything.”

  “You think I’m just going to fucking run off and pretend people aren’t dying?” I asked, honestly disgusted by the implication.

  “I’ll pay for the ticket myself, The Lady can get you a fake passport in a day or two, I’ll have you out of here in three days top,” the man tried convincing me, closing his eyes tight for a long moment before dropping his voice low. Almost a defeated whisper as he asked, “where did this come from? If you’re trying to fucking pay some debt to the world, you’re never paying that, trust me. You can’t just do this to feel good once everything’s solved.”

  “Do you think I’m that fucking shallow?”

  “You told a human you were in the Purists for literally no reason, and I think you’re busy nailing yourself to that cross while other people could use the wood!” he said with a roll of his eyes, pacing the room with the determined stomps of someone trying to not scream every word.

  “I don’t even know what that means,” I hissed, and the man looked at me like I’d misunderstood the easiest thing in the world even as I told him, “I’m just trying to help, these are people I care about, isn’t that enough?”

  He shook his head, obviously seeming to try and let the words settle for a long time as I stared down the shadow in the corner.

  This wasn’t getting me anywhere, and my best bet would be to sneak up later while he was asleep and steal the items. Samuel had to sleep sometime, and I doubted he was a light sleeper as lazy as he seemed about his job. Take the papers, maybe his laptop, look into what he’d gotten, I could do my own investigation without The Lady. I’d get this thing solved, rub it in their fucking face, and see how it turned out.

  Before I left though I needed to get this out of the fucking way.

  “You care about me,” I said, trying to not make it seem like a kiss would come out of right field. Percy had nearly shot me for it, and he wasn’t someone who had spent years learning to associate surprise and fear with violence. Samuel froze, and I tried to not sound annoyed as I continued, “no one’s tried to help me like that, you know? Pull me out of danger, try and help me get up to Martin, it’s…a lot.”

  Samuel let out a noise I couldn’t quite describe, seeming almost frozen as he admitted, “it’s nothing, I just…you deserve some happiness. I owe you that much at least — not to let you rot as a Purist.”

  “Thank you,” I said, stepping forward as I turned him to face me.

  I braced myself, grabbing his shirt and closing my eyes as I meant to only give him the briefest of kisses. The man freezing against me the moment my hands met him, and I went to pull away before he suddenly kissed me back with a surprising hunger.

  A noise of surprise escaped me, and I felt myself swept off my feet and sat on the man’s desk as I gripped his shoulders for support. His fingers running through my hair, I remained still only a moment before I pulled myself away and started, “Samuel,” before I couldn’t think of which word would stop him the fastest.

  The name alone was thankfully enough to bring him to his senses, his hands staying a moment before he slowly pulled a few inches away and finally stepped back like he’d been shot, closing his eyes to angrily blurt out, “Shadow of the Crossroads?” and I didn’t answer, unsure if I could. “Don’t fucking trust spirits for information. Now, I’m…I’m going to use the bathroom, take a walk, cold shower, throw myself down the stairs or, or something to clear my head before I do or say something I regret.”

  “I’m sorry,” I muttered, feeling a little unsure of how to feel about…whatever just fucking happened.

  He started, “it’s,” and stopped himself, turning around to slowly announce, “I’m going to be away for a while, please don’t look through my files or look at my laptop, it doesn’t have a password. The Lady wouldn’t like you looking at that.”

  I nodded and watched the man walk off, even as he offered a final look back at me that I couldn’t quite describe the emotion behind. Not even wanting to think what just happened, I quickly slid off the desk and turned around, flipping over the files Samuel had been looking through.

  Old student records, they were listed in order without any sort of identification past names and addresses. Not sure if they were useful but not much else to go on, I flipped through without really reading until I was greeted by a pairing of photos. One the terrible photocopy of the pamphlet with a circle drawn on it and the other a clearly printed copy of the original.

  Lifting it closer to my good eye, I looked to where the circle would have joined on the original and felt my spit turn bitter.

  Two women within it, sitting at the edge of the class photo, one older wearing a pair of jeans and a ruffled shirt with long dark hair. The other beside her, half-holding her hand where the crowd almost hid them, with long blonde hair in a ponytail and a dotted dress.

  My eye traced her features, looked over every detail, and my shaking hands looked back through the student records. A newfound shaking to them, I fumbled through each name, scanning each point, until I came to one entry.

  Barbara M. Ricardo.

  Sex: F

  Birth: January 2nd, 1938

  Enrollment: January 8th, 1956

  Below that listed an address, a phone number, and a man’s name, her signature, all the photocopied original. My heart like a jackhammer on my ribs as I threw the laptop open, pressing enter twice to open it to an already opened email. There a series of photos rested, stills showing the various aspects of Phillip’s killer that had been unblurred at different points on Percy’s footage. Placed together into a roughly edited collage showing the shape of the woman that was obscured previously; Allie’s helpful message warning Samuel to not let me know about this generously placed above it.

  There, framed for all to see, stood Barbie, only a few aspects of her still blurred, as she had since she first joined college.