Page 38 of A Mastery of Monsters

The plan was to meet Riley in front of Victoria Hall.

The plan did not include Corey and Virgil also being in front of my dorm building.

I slow as I approach them. Corey is chatting to Riley at the bottom of the steps while Virgil stands with his hands in his pockets.

When they spot me, Corey gives me a wide smile, and Riley throws me a pointed look that I imagine says something like, What the fuck? Get rid of them.

It was already hard enough to arrange this around Riley’s schedule. It’d been a full week since she sent that initial text. I don’t want to postpone things even more when I could make progress in finding Jules.

“Hey…,” I say to Corey and Virgil. “I didn’t think we were meeting up.”

Virgil glances at Riley but doesn’t mention her. “Margot wanted us to check in on you. See how you’ll be for next week.”

The physical endurance group training is next week, and I can’t have another fainting spell like last time. This will potentially be the hardest professor to impress. I’ve also been working my ass off for weeks, so I can do without the micromanagement.

“Can we do it another time? I’m supposed to go to the island since it’s Truth and Reconciliation Day.

My aunt’s community is doing a thing.” Which is actually true.

The Levesques have organized a charity walk around the island, and I’m supposed to help distribute orange shirts and take donations for residential school survivor funds.

Corey and Virgil don’t need to know I’m going to that after this Riley thing, not right now.

At the end of last year, Sammie, like a lot of second years, decided to move into a house with her friends.

She was the only one of them who stayed through the summer.

Riley has been staking out the place since the beginning of the school year, and apparently Mondays are the best time to get inside without anyone noticing.

The letter and note were in Jules’s things, so maybe Sammie’s stuff will hold some clues too.

“We’ll come along to the island,” Virgil says with a smile.

“Is that necessary?”

“Yes,” he says. “Our track meet is next week. We can’t lose any time.”

Riley makes an impatient sound in the back of her throat, but I don’t know what this girl wants me to do! They aren’t going to go away. “Yeah, okay. I just need to do an errand first with my friend.”

“We’re all going to go together?” Riley asks, her voice high-pitched.

“You have friends?” Virgil says. “Like, other than us?”

“Yes,” I snap. “I have one other friend. She’s right here.”

“Good for you.” Corey beams, looking proud of me.

And this is how the four of us end up on Wellington Street. Riley leads us to a house that, like many of the houses in Kingston, is made of red brick. It has a tiny front porch that includes a recycling bin filled with beer cans and bottles.

Riley makes a show of acting like she’s forgotten her keys and grabs a fake rock that’s so out of place on the wooden porch, it’s shocking that more people haven’t broken into this house. She slides out the key and invites us inside.

The entryway is crowded with sneakers, boots, etc. Virgil starts to take his shoes off, while Corey digs her mini shoehorn out from her purse and looks for a place to sit. Riley says, “Oh, no need. You can keep them on.”

“I don’t mind,” Virgil says, then turns to Corey. “Though it’s inconvenient for you to swap shoes, so you don’t need to bother if she says it’s cool.”

“It is… but wearing outside shoes in the house…” Corey wrinkles her nose.

I get it. I’m kind of crawling out of my skin about it too.

Mom’s in my head shouting, “Shoes off!” But if the actual people who live here come home and notice the addition of shoes—or worse, we need to leave in a hurry—we can’t waste time waiting for Corey and Virgil to get theirs on.

Corey literally can’t rush out unless she goes barefoot.

Never mind having to explain to them that, no, Riley does not actually live here.

“It’s fine!” Riley insists. “Why don’t you guys sit down over here?” She directs them to the living room, where Virgil and Corey get comfortable on the couch—thankfully, with their shoes on.

“Also,” I add, “if you see anyone coming, please come get us. It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

Virgil narrows his eyes. “Your errand is prepping for a surprise party?” He looks around the undecorated house. “Do you have time to do that?”

“Not a surprise party, just a surprise.”

“We’ll be very incognito,” Corey says, and I could hug her. Wonderful, reliable Corey. “And we’ll run and get you if we hear anything.”

“Perfect, thanks, we’ll be upstairs.”

Virgil’s eyes track up the staircase, and I know from the muttering voices that follow that he’s discussing things with Corey.

“Great plan,” Riley says as we walk to the landing.

“Yes, well, they weren’t going to leave, and I wasn’t going to tell them what we were doing. Did you want them to know?”

“Obviously not.”

“Well, there you go. And now we have built-in lookouts.”

“It’s this one,” Riley says, pulling open the door to Sammie’s room.

I follow her inside. “Why didn’t the two of you live together?”

Riley grinds her teeth. “We were supposed to.”

“But?”

She shakes her head. “Sammie fucked up, and instead of trying to fix things, she decided she wanted to quit QBSS altogether. I was going to convince her to come back but she was being stubborn about it.”

I guess that explains why Riley wasn’t out with Sammie that night.

A double bed is pushed against the wall with a faded blue duvet cover and a single pillow. In another corner there’s a desk with papers and books stacked on top of it, and a pile of clothes dropped onto an armchair. The walls are decorated with photos and art prints.

It’s like no one has touched this room since Sammie was killed.

Riley isn’t in any of the displayed pictures. I suspect that whatever went down between her and Sammie was more serious than she’s making it out to be.

“Any idea where’s best to look?” I ask.

“No.”

Helpful. I search the closet while Riley goes through the desk and dresser drawers.

There are some clothes and shoes. Bits of jewelry and old returned marked papers.

There’s a shoebox with pieces of memorabilia from high school.

Her old student ID, track and field ribbons, and photos.

I stare at a couple of the pictures, and though the girl’s hair is in box braids instead of passion twists, I recognize Riley.

They went to high school together, but their friendship fizzled out in university.

I get that. People change. I thought I’d be rooming with Rachel in my first year, and making all these new friends from different places, going to parties every week, being a star student.

“Have you seen this before?” Riley asks.

I close the lid of the box and go over to her. “What?”

“You said your brother got a letter. Did it look like this?” She shows me an envelope. It’s cream-colored and looks pretty standard. The size of any other piece of letter mail, though it doesn’t have a name or address or stamp on it. And I do recognize it.

I wait until she removes the paper inside to say anything. “Yeah. This is the same invite. Or mostly.”

Sammie’s invite says to meet in City Park on the evening she went missing, months after Jules got his.

And Sammie is dead. But Jules… no. He’s alive. He has to be.

Riley’s eyes light up. “They are connected.”

The sound of creaking stairs reaches us as Corey calls out, “Someone pulled into the driveway!”

“Fuck,” Riley hisses.

I rush into the hall. I hoped maybe we could make a run for the front door, but there are already voices in the entryway. Corey and Virgil stand casually in the hall.

“Get in here!” Riley says to them. “And hide.”

Virgil sighs. “Is the surprise thing really that serious?”

“Yes!” me and Riley say at the same time.

He rolls his eyes, but both he and Corey follow us into the room. Riley and Corey are able to fit together in the closet, but me and Virgil are forced to climb under Sammie’s bed. I pull the covers down to shield us.

“This is ridiculous.” When Virgil speaks, his breath wafts over my face.

There isn’t a ton of room underneath since Sammie has a bunch of clothes stored here, and the two of us end up pressed together. And me and Virgil aren’t exactly small people. He has to turn sideways, so my side is pressed up against the front of his body.

I was kind of right. His muscles are definitely hard but with a soft outer layer. It’s giving cuddly teddy bear who could also pick you up and throw you around.

For fuck’s sake, I need to stop.

I attempt to shift to get more comfortable, and Virgil lets out a soft grunt.

“Could you not?” he asks, his voice reverberating with a huskiness that I’m unprepared for.

My entire face goes hot along with other places that I do not want to think about. “Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what?” This time his voice is more normal.

I shift again.

“Stop,” he says, and there it is again. That voice. Dropped several octaves and accompanied by a rough throatiness.

“You stop,” I say. “Stop doing that voice.”

“Stop moving!”

“I’m trying to get comfortable.”

“By grinding against me?”

I throw him a horrified look. “I am not grinding against you.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Shut up,” Riley hisses from across the room. “We can both hear you.”

Me and Virgil lapse into silence, though I do stop moving. Footsteps come up the stairs, and I hope they won’t head for this room. There’s literally no reason to. Sammie’s missing. Why would they be chilling in her room?

The door opens, and soft feet pad across the hardwood.

A feminine voice says, “I don’t think anyone is in here. Maud is probably being paranoid.”

“I don’t know. True crime fans can be wild, you know? Like what if they were trying to steal her underwear or something?” This second voice also sounds feminine, though higher-pitched.