Faith Heights

Chapter 15

I debated for a good three hours that morning whether I'd go to class. I needed to find a way out of here, that much was clear. But I couldn't decide if it would be safer to leave today, or fake an anxious normalcy until I thought up a less conspicuous escape plan. 

Eventually the punctual side of me won out, and I hurried off to home-room, trying not to overthink what kind of awful things had probably happened in the same building. I kept my head down and silently rebuffed the professors' questions, as if they'd be able to sense what I'd witnessed.

Rhea noticed my silence, but didn't comment, which I was thankful for. My mind was tumbling through every possibility, trying to imagine why a prestigious school would be hiding feral animals or caging wounded students. It was so far beyond the realm of probability that I couldn't help but wonder if I'd dreamt it all. If maybe I was still dreaming. 

I didn't see Jackson until lunch, when he appeared beside me walking down a quiet corridor from the cafeteria. I was truly beginning to hate the school's over-indulgence of empty corridors. I was wound so tight that I almost squealed at his sudden presence, not able to form coherent sentences by the time he dragged me into the vacant library.

Jackson only halted when we were safely tucked away in the furthest aisles. He opened his mouth to speak, but I raised a hand to stop him. I knew what he was going to say- or at least what it was going to be about. The phone call wasn't where I wanted to begin this undoubtedly ridiculous conversation. I needed to start with the least insane part, which somehow managed to include bloody handprints and jarfuls of what had seemed like chloroform.

I said, "Last time when I mentioned the howling that Rhea and I heard, you demanded that I be more careful. But you weren't surprised by what I told you. You know exactly what's going on at this school, don't you? You always have."

The apology in his eyes was confirmation enough. I continued, "So I need you to explain to me why there's an abandoned corridor filled with cages and human blood. And a locker with your name on it."

His mouth slung wide. "How did you get into those rooms? They're locked during the day-" He palmed his forehead. "Right. I forgot about your and Rhea's adventure through the school last month. God, you have no idea how lucky you were to get out of that room alive on a full moon. Go again, full moon or not, and there's a ninety percent chance you'll be ripped to shreds before you can even blink." He didn't say it threateningly, but with relief.

"What are they keeping in there?" I urged. "It can't just be a detention room from hell. Why hasn't anyone reported it?" I fixed a sharp look on him. "Why do you have a locker in there?"

He let out a long breath. "If you'd let me explain the phone call first, it'd make so much more sense-"

I groaned, and banged my head against a book shelf. "Oh, for god's sake. Please don't tell me you're going to try and explain all this away with angels and deities and whatever else you said in that hoax phone call."

He took a step toward me. "Lila, everything that I said on the phone is real. After what you've seen, surely it's not that hard to believe?"

"You expect me to believe in angels?" I asked incredulously, rolling my eyes. "Next you're going to tell me that the howling on the full moon was werewolves? And the chains were to lock them up?"

He lifted his shoulders, smiling sheepishly. "Pretty much."

I paused for him to deliver the punchline, but he merely stared at me, waiting for a reaction.

I finally whispered, "But you have a locker in one of the rooms. So I guess that means that you're a..."

He smiled again, that strange, pleading uplift of his cheeks.