“Is that so?” I chuckle, amused.
“Yeah, that’s so. You with your road trips to a boring-ass library, and Finn with his constant belly-aching.”
“What are you talking about, Colt? Please explain, because not all of us speak douche.”
“Fuck off.” He flips me off again, but at least he picks up his shirt and starts putting it on. “Before his dad came over earlier, the fucker couldn’t stop ranting on and on about something that isn’t adding up. He’s all antsy that The Society hasn’t sent another letter yet with their demands. Saying it’s a bad omen or some shit like that.”
“I think their first letter was clear enough.”
“Not for Finn. I swear, if I wanted to hear non-stop rambling, I would have stayed home and listened to my sisters. Thank God, his old man stopped by to get his mind obsessing about something else.”
“Hmm. You think he’s considering going back home?”
“Are you serious?” Colt laughs as he continues buttoning his shirt. “I’d kick the fucker if he tried. Let his old man wallow in guilt for a while.”
I don’t agree with Colt’s need for spiteful retribution. If Finn wants to move back home, then he should. But despite his dad trying to mend fences, something tells me that Finn won’t be too inclined to move back home any time soon. Especially if he believes that doing so could put The Society’s scope back on Stone. He’ll never risk her safety.
“So, are we doing this or what?” Colt asks, proudly standing tall to his six-foot-two height, looking like he just stepped out of a photoshoot.
Even if Colt didn’t have the Richfield fortune to lean on, his good looks would open any door for him. With his dark-brown hair and piercing green eyes, he’s the envy of many and the scorn of most.
I may find myself gravitating to Lincoln and Finn most times for companionship, but that’s just because, with them, I can still pretend I’m a good person. Spending time with Colt just reminds me that I’m not. We’re both cut from the same cloth. I might run hot, whereas he runs ice cold, but we’re both assholes, and we know it.
For the next couple of hours, we talk shit while we drive over to Charlotte. I know Lincoln ordered every book Amazon had about secret societies, as well as anything related to Asheville. But so far, there has been nothing regarding the bane of our existence in any of the books he’s read. I had done a little investigation of my own beforehand and learned that Charlotte’s public library held all sorts of unique material pertaining to North Carolina’s heritage and folklore. It might end up as a wild-goose chase, but maybe they have a one-off book where someone spilled the beans about this secret organization in the past.
When we arrive, we head to the reception area and ask the on-duty librarian if she can point us in the right direction, never mentioning The Society by name. Colt, of course, puts on the charm and says he’s doing research for his thesis, asking for any off-the-shelf books she can give us. As usual, his flirting pays off as she prints out a list of books that may help us out. There are a few that have been checked out, but after Colt hands her his digits, she promises to text him the moment they return. When I look at the list and see over a hundred titles, I predict a long-ass afternoon.
After what feels like endless, grueling hours of sitting in the same spot without any real reward, I decide a break is in order.
“I need a fucking smoke.” I crack my neck, feeling stiff as a board.
“Yeah, I could do with a breather, too.”
We get up and start to make our way through the library, heading outside, when Colt grabs my shoulder, halting my next step.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
“What?” I ask, confused, turning to follow his gaze. “Wait. Isn’t that Professor Harper?”
“Yes, it is.” He licks his lips as he starts walking in her direction.
“What the hell are you doing?” I mumble in a low tone, to prevent distracting the other people in the library.
“She’s on my list.”
“What list?”
“My shitlist. She gave me an F on my last exam.”
“If you paid more attention to her lectures than you do her legs, maybe she wouldn’t,” I mock.
“And that’s my fault, how? She’s the one who comes to class looking like a damn dominatrix. How’s a guy supposed to concentrate?”
“I got a B, so I did just fine,” I tease, pouring salt in the wound since he knows I don’t study for shit.
He glares at me and continues to head toward our ethics teacher.
In pretty, cat-eye framed glasses, Professor Harper is rapidly taking notes on her laptop, while carefully flipping a page on a book that looks to be a hundred years old. Colt pretends to clear his throat beside her, but she doesn’t pay him any mind. He does it again, and I have to stifle my own laugh by coughing into my closed fist. She turns her head over her shoulder, an annoyed expression on her face when her eyes land on us.
“Mr. Price. Mr. Turner. You two are a bit far away from home, aren’t you?” she relents, going back to her notes.
“We could say the same thing about you, teach,” Colt retorts, using his best panty-melting smile on her.
Oh, brother.
“I live in Charlotte, Mr. Turner,” she responds with a derisive tone.
“Quite a commute to Asheville, then.”
My forehead pinches together at Colt’s abnormal lack of swagger.
‘The fuck is going on with you?’ I mouth at him, but he just brushes me off as easily as Professor Harper did to him.
He coughs again, to which she raises her head back at him, looking even more annoyed than before.
“Is there something you’d like to discuss, Mr. Turner? Because if there is, let me remind you that my office back at Richfield is open to students between two and four. I suggest you use them since, as you can see, I am off the clock.”
I watch his chiseled jaw tick, his nostrils flaring with rage. I squeeze his shoulder before he does something he’s going to regret.
“We just came over to say hello, Professor. Nothing else. We’ll be on our way.”
“Good evening, gentlemen,” she replies dismissively, already engrossed with what she was doing before we interrupted her.
I’m about to pull Colt away, when Professor Harper flips a page in the aged book in front of her, stopping me in my tracks. A large, distinctive symbol is printed wide at the very center of the two pages, grabbing my full and complete attention.
I’d recognize the nefarious pentagram from anywhere.
Colt sees it too, and as we walk away from our professor, we’re both bombarded with a myriad of emotions. We came here today hoping to get a lead into The Society, and miraculously enough, we might just have stumbled upon one.
The only rub is—it doesn’t look like we are the only ones digging into our blackmailers.
Professor Emma Harper is right on their trail too.
Chapter 17