Cocking my head to the side, I lean in closer, but it’s hard to get a good look with everything in front of it. I push the dresser a little more to the right so I can sidestep the mess. Then I bend down and have a closer look. Again, I run my fingertips along the slightly frayed edge of the wallpaper and debate whether or not I should pull it back completely.
Glancing over my shoulder, I half expect Wade to come back in.
Confused, I gently pull back the paper as far as I dare.
“What in the world…?” I whisper, leaning in to get a better look.
Beneath the delicate wallpaper is the plate to what looks like a super-old door handle. The bronze-looking plate has an antique vibe and it’s unlike any of the other handles in the house. Ripping the paper so I can see the handle clearly, I stick my fingertip in the gaping hole where the doorknob should be.
“Found the broom and dustpan,” Wade says, reentering the room. “Did you know, this house has way too many cubby holes, pantries, and cupboards?”
Letting out a squeak, I jump at the sound of his voice, twisting around to face him.
“Well, that was both adorable and slightly hilarious,” he says, chuckling. “Whatcha find there?”
He walks over to me in only a few big steps.
“I’m not sure…” I say, trying to cram my heart back into its proper place.
Wade drops the broom on the floor, bending in to have a look. “Is it a door?” He twists back around to look at me.
I nod. “Looks that way to me, too.”
“Weird. Why on earth would it be hidden?” he asks. “Did you know it was here?”
“I had no idea,” I say, shaking my head and pressing the back of my thumb to my lips.
“Wonder where the handle is,” Wade says, echoing my own thoughts.
My heartbeat thumps in my chest. “I don’t know that one, either.”
More importantly, where does it lead?
Chapter 11
First Day of School & Other Strange Things
The first day of school arrives before I know it, and despite the alarm clock on my phone going off as planned, I still find myself running late.
Go figure.
You’d think of all the days to be wired and anxious, the first day in a new school full of supernatural beings would be it. But with all the questions circling about the house, the missing kids, not to mention Wade’s visit and all the complexity he brings to my emotions, I haven’t really had time to worry about it.
Grabbing a coffee to go in my travel mug, I race out the door without even trying to find Dad so I can say good-bye.
I make it to Windhaven Academy in under twelve minutes, but I’m still five minutes late to the start of my first class. Hopefully, they’ll cut new students a little bit of slack on their first day.
Exiting my driver’s seat, I make my way to the front of the building as quickly as my feet will carry me. The crisp autumn air rushes at me and I breathe it all in as I race to certain doom. I’m not the only one coming and going, but I feel like I’m the only one who doesn’t really belong. After the fiasco at the Witching Stick orientation, I never got to undergo the Divining Rod part, which was supposed to tell me what kind of supernatural being I am. Or at least point me in a direction. With a little luck, things will be sorted out in the next few hours.
In all honesty, Wade’s not the only one dying to know what kind of powers I may have.
Staring at the façade of the old building, I admire the old-fashioned gargoyles and embellishments that adorn the outside of the school. I hadn’t noticed them the other day, but they add a certain level of mystique to the whole academic process here in Windhaven. In a way, it almost reminds me of being back in the old part of Mistwood’s cemetery. It had all sorts of statues, too.
Hoisting my backpack up on my shoulder, I take one last deep breath and swing open the massive front door.
The school is a hustle and bustle of kids and teachers as I walk in and head toward the main office. When I get there, I push open the door and a woman with thick, black-rimmed glasses glances up with the kind of slow motion that makes you wonder if she’s part sloth.
Hell, in a school with wereanimals and shifters, maybe she is, I remind myself.
“Can I help you?” sloth lady asks.
“I uh—yeah,” I nod, leaning against the tall wooden front desk and setting my backpack at my feet. “I’m Autumn Blackwood. I’m new—”
The woman’s eyebrow twitches, as if trying to decide if it’s too much work to actually arch over those massive rims. Instead, she sits up a bit straighter, and runs a hand over the piled-up, mousy-brown bun on the top of her head.
“Ah yes, Ms. Blackwood. We’ve been expecting you,” she says. Shuffling through the piles of paperwork on her desk, she pulls out a manila folder and flips it open. “You never completed your orientation. Is that correct?”
I nod. “Yeah. I mean yes. By the time I got here, the school was being evacuated. I was wondering if I can still—”
“Here’s your schedule,” sloth lady says, cutting me off and sliding over a stack of papers, “a map of the school, details about upcoming campus events, and a list of faculty who can help you get situated. This one is rules and regulations on cell phone use during school hours, as well as the
