<Danton>“…and what do we know about this practice in modern civilization?” The man turned from the blackboard, the chalky dust settling in the lip of the chalk tray at the board’s base as his dark eyes swept the room of young, tired faces. It was tough on them, taking this course so late at night. He admired their tenacity. He did not, however, envy their fatigue. It was one of the things he found himself grateful for every night when he rose from the day’s deep sleep.
His fierce, stony stare settled on a particularly bored blonde in the front row. He took a slow breath to stave his agitation and looked further back into the darkness of the scantily inhabited lecture hall.
Few as they are, if they did not want to be here, they should have dropped the course.
Usually, his patience was much vaster than it had been since his transfer to Harper Rock University. He had grown accustomed to being surrounded by the brightest minds of a nation, each of them eager to learn what he had to teach, their curiosity and open-minded skepticism refreshing. Here, he was handed the few looking to score easy credits, skating by in a class that appeared like an easy elective. Those were the ones most surprised when the first examination slid across their desks with fresh, crisp “F’s” printed across the front page in a glaring red ink.
He was rarely surprised anymore.
This was the same situation. His question fell on deaf ears as his jaw gave a nervous tic, worrying over the displeasure etched into his features. He took a slow breath, cooling the frayed nerves as his index finger tapped against the stick of chalk, covering itself in a fine white dust. “We know that this kind of sacrificial behavior is, while illegal in most first world countries, largely overlooked by most of the world. Most would rather forget that such darkness, such deep-seated horror resided so sweetly inside our nature, nurtured by our own twisted shade that every person hides inside of them, but there are those out there that still practice what many ancient civilizations believed to be the key to tapping that dark power…”
He glanced up as the clock gave a loud ‘tick,’ to announce the hour. He sighed, and closed the heavy, leather-bound tome on his desk causing the fluttering pages to waft a cloud of brown dust into the air about him. “In your syllabus you will find the prompt for the essay on this chapter. I want each of you to hand in a four to six page paper outlining one of the surviving groups that still practice ritual sacrifice, and your personal thoughts on the group and practice.”
As he spoke, the shuffle of paper and fabric filled the room. Doors were already opening and closing as those poised closest to the hall’s exits made a run for the night air. He glanced to where the bored woman had been sitting, her seat already vacant. It was usual that she was one of the first out, and even so, she held one of the highest marks in the course.
The first from the room, he always noted, was a young man that seemed to always wear the same ‘beanie’ cap and ragged tee, his shaggy, dirty blonde hair falling in a wild fray over his ears. He was also the lowest mark in his course.
Other students of particular note were few and far between. A pair of them had followed him from his post at Oxford. One, his star pupil in England, was a small, pale woman from China. Xuyin Fei Ling was her name, and in her heels, she barely came to his bicep. She was always full of questions once the lecture was over, but she rarely spoke up in the class beyond pushing a point of inquiry on the subject at hand. She was the most enthusiastic of his little band, and she was growing increasingly irritated with the blonde Frenchwoman from the front row overshooting her marks. Usually, she would hang behind to ask him questions, or fish for extra credit to keep herself ahead of the other girl. Tonight, she ducked out with the rest, leaving him alone with the… other one.
Yvonne Tyson was a tall, slender woman with dark skin like burnt caramel. Her thick, ebony hair was meticulously straightened, her makeup expertly done. She had been a transfer from UCLA to Oxford when he had first met her, enrolling in his post-grad history program. He could sense, even that first day, that all of her goals were not purely… academic.
She had hardly been the first wedge in his first marriage, and she was certainly not the last, but her abundant contact with both phone and email had driven Cassandra to a foul mood many nights. Despite his rejections, she had followed him to Harper Rock, and even still had enrolled in his course, even though this particular lecture course was far beneath the academic level that they had parted at. He knew, the first night he saw her there in the back of his lecture, that this was coming.
Rather than confronting her with stance, he continued to pack his teaching aids, first sliding the tremendously heavy book into his briefcase as she sauntered to his desk and placed her palms down against the rough, abused surface and tapped intricately manicured nails against the split and aged lacquer. “About time I got you alone, Doctor. You’re a hard man to… hey…” She knit her dark brows as he snapped the lock on his briefcase and straightened his spine, turning to leave without acknowledging her. “Is that how it’s going to be?”She asked, the hurt evident in the way her voice left her. He sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose before he turned to her.
“Yvonne.” He said her name firmly, asserting that he was hardly about to put up with the sort of games he had endured across the pond. “We both know what you want. You know that I am simply not interested. I am married. Again. And not to you. I am your professor, and that is the end of our relationship to one another. If you pursue this again, I will be speaking with the school about your enrollment, and I will be speaking with the authorities. Do you want that again?”
The last time he had seen her, she had been shoved into the back of a patrol car after she had stabbed Cassandra and one of his other students with a letter opener from his desk. They had been at a small gathering for the department, a fundraiser in honesty, and she had come uninvited to ‘show them who they were dealing with.’ It had been a nightmare, ending in a tangled web of arguments and accusations from his now ex-wife. It was not a situation he felt needed a repeating. He wasn’t even sure exactly how she had managed to leave the country, and he was certain that, with the threat of the police on her case again, she would back off.
He was right. At least, it appeared he was.
She held up her hands and shook her head. “Fine. Fine.” She took a step back from his desk and frowned at him. “You don’t know what you’re doing.” she asserted, before turning on a heel and swaying from the room, the motion of her hips much more exaggerated than before, and just as ignored as the first time.
Finally, he was alone, and a sigh of relief left his chest as he checked his watch. He didn’t realize how long he had been holding his breath until he had finally let it go, the phantom ache of his lungs making him press a hand to his chest before he hefted the heavy briefcase from his desk. His wife would be waiting for him in the parking lot. He usually found her there, perched on his car, or already in the back seat, lying across the soft leather as she relaxed. It never ceased to amaze him how easily she could slip into anything, no matter how complex the lock might be.
As he closed his smaller, personal notebook and tucked it under his arm, he made a mental note to make a gift of a Kyosegi box for her, completely missing the note that Yvonne had actually tucked into his notebook. He smirked at his idea, knowing that she wouldn’t ever be able to put down something she couldn’t open. Quietly, he flicked off the lights to the hall and locked the door behind him, making his way through the complex maze of halls to the professor parking, where he knew she would be waiting, or would be there soon.
<Nakia> “… didn’t hear anything, James.”
“I’m telling you, there’s someone here.”
“Just take it easy, alright? You’ve had a long night. Go get some coffee, I’ll keep watch.”
You guys really should pay more attention, she thought as she listened to the conversation bounce back and forth. They weren’t even trying to speak quietly, their voices echoing off the walls like thunder. They made it all too simple for her to slip into the room unnoticed, the silent click of the door latching buried beneath their tired laughter. Shaking her head in disbelief, she pressed her fingertips to the necklace her sister had given her, just as it began to warm against the hollow of her throat. It was a slight tingle, and it was all the warning she needed to duck into a corner just as James turned her way. His eyes were dull and sunken into a weathered face, and his lips twisted into a frown as he scanned the darkness behind him, his gaze sweeping right over her with a shake of his head. Relief thrummed in her chest as he turned back to his partner, leaving her to the comfort of the dark as her thoughts raced.
That’s right, buddy, you can’t see me. Don’t worry, this will all be over soon.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he muttered gruffly, one hand lifting to rub tiredly at his eyes. “I ain’t been sleeping that well since Betty left. I didn’t sleep that well when she was there, either. Talk about a pig in a blanket,” he chortled, and she rolled her eyes.
Jackass. You’re no prize yourself.
Their laughter faded as the man pushed himself into an upright position and tipped his hat to his partner before turning to head for the exit, his breathing strained as if walking alone was stressful. You’re going to die before you’re fifty, aren’t you? Pressing her back to the wall as he passed her, she waited until the heavy thud of his boots faded to nothing before stepping from the corner. The remaining guard didn’t even glance her way as she stepped up behind him to duck down the nearest corridor. The relic had to be nearby, and she knew she wouldn’t leave until she found it. Brushing her fingers along the wall, she pulled her lower lip in between her teeth and bit down, her dark eyes scanning each crevice.
After a moment, she found a door tucked into a corner and laughed under her breath. She knew without a doubt that she had found what she was looking for, almost hiding in plain sight. Careful to keep her excitement at bay so she wouldn’t make too loud a step, she pulled her kit from her back pocket and studied the lock as she neared it. It was complex, but one that she knew she’d have no trouble breaking. Already her mind was racing, thinking of each and every lock she had run in on her time there. Each had required a different technique, but she had yet to find one she hadn’t been able to handle. Twisting a pick from the leather of her case, she brushed her fingers lovingly over the inscription from her husband that had been dug into the metal. I love you, my light, she thought before slipping the pick inside.
With a flick of her wrist, she listened for the muted clicks as she began to work the lock, and was rewarded when she felt the latch give after a few seconds.
“Bingo, baby,” she laughed breathlessly when she stepped back, the door swinging open to reveal a simple case resting on a shelf. Glancing quickly over her shoulder to make sure she was still alone, she tugged the box down and broke the padlock in one swift movement before lifting open the lid.
“I’m telling you, there’s someone here.”
“Just take it easy, alright? You’ve had a long night. Go get some coffee, I’ll keep watch.”
You guys really should pay more attention, she thought as she listened to the conversation bounce back and forth. They weren’t even trying to speak quietly, their voices echoing off the walls like thunder. They made it all too simple for her to slip into the room unnoticed, the silent click of the door latching buried beneath their tired laughter. Shaking her head in disbelief, she pressed her fingertips to the necklace her sister had given her, just as it began to warm against the hollow of her throat. It was a slight tingle, and it was all the warning she needed to duck into a corner just as James turned her way. His eyes were dull and sunken into a weathered face, and his lips twisted into a frown as he scanned the darkness behind him, his gaze sweeping right over her with a shake of his head. Relief thrummed in her chest as he turned back to his partner, leaving her to the comfort of the dark as her thoughts raced.
That’s right, buddy, you can’t see me. Don’t worry, this will all be over soon.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he muttered gruffly, one hand lifting to rub tiredly at his eyes. “I ain’t been sleeping that well since Betty left. I didn’t sleep that well when she was there, either. Talk about a pig in a blanket,” he chortled, and she rolled her eyes.
Jackass. You’re no prize yourself.
Their laughter faded as the man pushed himself into an upright position and tipped his hat to his partner before turning to head for the exit, his breathing strained as if walking alone was stressful. You’re going to die before you’re fifty, aren’t you? Pressing her back to the wall as he passed her, she waited until the heavy thud of his boots faded to nothing before stepping from the corner. The remaining guard didn’t even glance her way as she stepped up behind him to duck down the nearest corridor. The relic had to be nearby, and she knew she wouldn’t leave until she found it. Brushing her fingers along the wall, she pulled her lower lip in between her teeth and bit down, her dark eyes scanning each crevice.
After a moment, she found a door tucked into a corner and laughed under her breath. She knew without a doubt that she had found what she was looking for, almost hiding in plain sight. Careful to keep her excitement at bay so she wouldn’t make too loud a step, she pulled her kit from her back pocket and studied the lock as she neared it. It was complex, but one that she knew she’d have no trouble breaking. Already her mind was racing, thinking of each and every lock she had run in on her time there. Each had required a different technique, but she had yet to find one she hadn’t been able to handle. Twisting a pick from the leather of her case, she brushed her fingers lovingly over the inscription from her husband that had been dug into the metal. I love you, my light, she thought before slipping the pick inside.
With a flick of her wrist, she listened for the muted clicks as she began to work the lock, and was rewarded when she felt the latch give after a few seconds.
“Bingo, baby,” she laughed breathlessly when she stepped back, the door swinging open to reveal a simple case resting on a shelf. Glancing quickly over her shoulder to make sure she was still alone, she tugged the box down and broke the padlock in one swift movement before lifting open the lid.
