Page 36 of A Mastery of Monsters

A week later, I gather with the rest of the candidates on Monday afternoon.

The city finally got the message that it’s fall, and the leaves have turned to deep ambers and golden yellows, littering the ground.

It’s so picturesque with the lake spreading out and meeting the sky, and the historic brick buildings, that it’s almost artificial. Like a postcard.

I wait with the other candidates, not speaking to anyone. Caden crosses his arms and says to his friends, “Can’t believe they’re still letting a Bachelor teach us. Is it that hard to find a competent Master?”

I didn’t realize Bernie doesn’t have the Master title.

Still, Caden is full of shit. Bernie shouldn’t need a title to educate.

After all, we wouldn’t be any higher up in rank at the end of this process.

The difference is that Bernie isn’t getting any more chances.

I assume he’s already burned through his and lost his partner.

What’s worse—failing before you achieve Bachelor, or achieving it and failing after?

When Bernie arrives, it’s clear he’s fighting the change in season by sticking to his uniform of cargo shorts and a Hawaiian shirt.

“Hello, everyone. We’re here today at the Murney Tower National Historic Site.

It’s a nineteenth century defense tower turned museum which still maintains some society role. ”

A couple people walking near us slow, maybe mistaking us for a tour group.

Bernie smiles at them before ushering us toward the entrance.

The tower looks like a giant squat cylinder made of bricks and has its own moat, though the dip under the bridge we cross to get inside is empty of any water, holding only grass and weeds.

A single heavy metal door leads into the building.

Inside, the space has labeled items and posters on the walls for visitors to read.

This level has a built-in brick stove and table for eating alongside a single bed.

I assume nonfunctional but needed to set the scene of what living in here would have been like.

Some of the other candidates mill around and check out the exhibit.

Bernie stands by the ticket desk beside a large whiteboard and clears his throat.

“There will be time for you to explore in a moment.” We gather in front of him as he gestures to the board.

“There are a number of society connections to be found in the tower. I would like you to locate the relevant items and put the picture together on this board. You may start now.”

Great, vague instructions. And from the way the other candidates are looking at each other with furrowed brows, I would say for once, I’m not the only one thinking that.

Margot said in her year, Bernie took them to Fort Henry, and they did a historical scavenger hunt, so me and Corey brushed up on my knowledge.

This activity seems to be the same format in a different place and with this whiteboard addition.

Caden and his friends head upstairs, which is my cue to go downstairs.

The less I interact with him, the better.

I’m sure losing his mom wasn’t exactly fun—I have an idea of what that’s like—but that doesn’t mean I have to be content with being his scapegoat.

Especially when I’m two times removed from the actual subjects of his fury.

The stairway leading to the lower level is both narrow and short, and I have to duck to get into the space. It’s nowhere near as furnished and nice as the upper room, featuring stone-lined corridors and hefty wooden doors.

I have no idea what I’m looking for, but it has to be at least somewhat obvious, right?

And that’s just the first hurdle. Then I have to figure out how to make the connections on the whiteboard, whatever that means.

Maybe I can hover around with my object until someone mentions it.

Though probably Bernie will notice that I’m not actively participating.

I walk into a room with a print of the tower layout on the wall, maybe even the original schematics, encased in glass. I’m staring at it when the door slams shut behind me.

I try to open it, but it won’t budge.

Great. Just fucking great.

I don’t have to guess who did it. It’s fine. Bernie will come searching for me at some point. But now my options for finding something are limited. I look over at the barrels and boxes at the end of the room.

At least Caden locked me in the room most likely to have something. I pick through the stuff, most of which won’t easily open, until finally, one does. I pull out a laminated photograph and stare at it. It doesn’t appear to be part of the exhibit, so I assume this is one of the hidden items.

It’s a Black man sitting for a portrait, posed at a writing desk, his short curls neatly parted on the right side. It’s in black and white and well preserved. Shit. We didn’t study pictures. Margot’s scavenger hunt was slips of paper with names.

I attempt to think of the prominent Black men within the Learners’ history.

Wilden McCray, a businessman in the nineteenth century, was the first Master.

And Henry’s ancestor. There’s also Joseph Lawrence, who worked with Dr. Weiss.

But then there’s also Robert Sutherland, whose estate saved the university.

Corey mentioned that he wasn’t part of the society, but he’s an important figure, nonetheless.

Queen’s was in jeopardy of closing, and his money was the only reason it didn’t end up folding and becoming some offshoot of the University of Toronto.

He’s relevant to their history through the school.

I wonder if I would have ever learned that if it hadn’t been explicitly taught to me for this test. This isn’t the sort of school that makes people think of Black history.

Flipping the photo over, I hope for a name, but instead, it notes a date in 1861.

Either McCray or Lawrence. I’ll figure it out later.

For now, I decide to keep searching to see if I can find someone whose face I recognize.

Though I’m pretty sure that I’ve only seen a photo of Dr. Weiss.

The man was devoted to growing his mustache.

I turn to an assortment of small black boxes set into the wall and open them. Nothing. I squat and crawl under the shelf. I don’t expect to see anything beyond the additional boxes stored there, but when I push them aside, there’s a latch.

I shimmy farther underneath and open it, sliding the tiny door aside. It’s pitch-black.

Until two orbs glow from within.

I jump, smacking my head on the shelf and groaning. When I look again, it’s only darkness.

The door to the room opens. “August?”

Flushing, I slide the latch shut and scramble out from under the shelf.

Bernie looks from me to the space where I was. “Did you find anything?”

“What?” I blurt out. Were those… eyes ? But why would there be eyes down there? Maybe it was lights or something? Like auto ones, and that’s why they came on so suddenly?

“For the activity? Did you find something?”

“Oh, yeah!” I hold up the photo. Then I look back at the shelf. “Uh, there’s, like, a hole down there.” I’m not going to mention the glowing eyes thing at risk of embarrassing myself. I’m now 99 percent sure that wasn’t what it was.

Bernie nods. “This is one of the reasons the society used this tower. You saw the underground cells at the penitentiary, right?”

“Yeah.”

“There are also connecting tunnels that run through the city. This is one of the places. There are all sorts of secret entrances and paths. Closely monitored by the society, of course. They were made to deal with the apocalypse. So that the monsters can be released to various locations quickly.”

“Oh! Okay, cool. I just… I thought I saw lights?”

“Yes. They’re there to help people navigate, but I admit that the tunnels weren’t used as often as expected. As you can see, we haven’t had an apocalypse yet. I don’t know how many of the lights are even working still.”

Old flickering lights. That’s what it was. Wow, these people have made me so jumpy. Looking for monsters around every corner.

“Why don’t you join the others?” He taps on the door. “I’ll leave this open, shall I? Tends to lock.” He shoves a doorstop underneath it and heads back to the main floor. I follow behind him.

Upstairs, the others are crowded around the whiteboard. Bernie excuses himself to gather more candidates, and I stand beside Violet, who’s holding on to a black marker while Bryce uses magnets to pin photos to the board.

I make sure my photo is visible while I pretend to study what they have going.

Violet glances at the picture, then me. I widen my eyes slightly, hoping she takes the hint. Then again, she might get it and ignore me anyway. This is a competition, after all.

“Lawrence could fit in with our time line,” she says.

The tension seeps out of my shoulders. “You’re arranging it by dates?”

“Dates would be too easy,” Caden says, sauntering over. “It should be a ranking. Doctorates up top. Then famous Masters.” He waves to one of his friends, who has what must be the Wilden McCray photo. “And then disgraced members at the bottom.” At that, he meets my eyes.

Maybe even if I find Jules early, I can stay on in the competition until we get to a test where I can beat the shit out of this boy.

“Have you decided what to do?” Bernie asks, coming over to us.

There’s a bunch of mumbling, and more candidates join the group.

“We’re not sure how to organize it,” Bryce says, adjusting his glasses.

“Some of us think by date, others by ranking, but it could also be by general connections. For example, Dr. Weiss is, in some way, connected to us all. While others, like Lawrence, break off.”

I look at the photo in my hands. I thought Caden was just being an asshole to me, but did he mean Lawrence when he was talking about being disgraced? Especially now that Bryce is mentioning something similar.