Page 85 of Bleed the Shadows

“Not the records you’re thinking of,” Neo said. “Those are upstairs. These are different kinds of records.”

“Different how?” I asked.

Bram answered for the Kings. “This is where they keep the shit they don’t want anyone to know about.”

“Exactly.” Drago looked at the boxes lining the shelves. “I have no idea how any of this is organized. We’re going to have to dig for information on your guy.”

“Fine by us,” Poe said. “We just appreciate the help.”

“Agreed,” I said.

Having the Kings as a resource was a gift I couldn’t have counted on. Growing up in Blackwell Falls, Aventine had been even more mysterious to me than the goings on at Blackwell High. I’d heard the rumors, but as an average kid from an average family, I’d lived in an entirely different world.

I was still reeling from the glimpse I was getting into the university, a moneyed place filled with secrets, the kids of criminals, and according to Poe, dangerous nighttime games designed to test the limits of the students who attended the school.

“Let’s get started,” Drago said, moving toward the boxes.

We each claimed a shelf and started grabbing boxes. They weren’t totally disorganized: most of them had labels with dates spanning a year or two, and I’d been given one of the shelves that covered the years right after Ethan had graduated from Blackwell.

The boxes didn’t contain the kinds of records I’d expect from a college. There were fancy yearbooks (I’d never known a college to have them), disciplinary records, chess rankings, and donation receipts from the wealthy crime families who kept the school in its lavish style.

But there were other things too: hazing summaries for the frats and the one sorority, the Queens house, “intervention memos” involving games that had gotten out of hand, and most surprisingly, notes on the parents and their weaknesses, legal and otherwise.

“Sorry to ask this, but are these notes on the families to…” I was too embarrassed to finish the question.

“Maeve wants to know if the powers that be use this shit to blackmail your families,” Bram said without looking up.

For once, I was glad he’d spoken for me.

Neo shrugged. “Probably.”

He didn’t seem alarmed by the idea. Then again, blackmail was probably just par for the course in their world.

It was all fascinating, but so far I hadn’t seen a single mention of Ethan Borkowski/Todd/Petrov.

“I’m surprised you guys keep all this shit,” Poe said. “Isn’t it… I don’t know, incriminating?”

“Not as incriminating as a hard drive,” Neo said. “It’s safer to shred than to try and destroy computers when the Feds are on their way.”

“Plus, some of this stuff goes back to before we used computers for so much,” Drago said. “I’m in the 1980s right now.”

The night stretched on, and after a while, I took my boxes to one of the library tables to work next to Remy while the other guys sat on the floor around the shelves or stood to rifle through the boxes.

The room was warm and a lot more comfortable than I would have expected for an underground bunker or records room or whatever it was. The lamplight cast a warm glow on the concrete walls, and eventually I took off my boots and tucked my legs under me while I worked at the table.

I’d fallen into a kind of trance when I finally came across a folder labeledScholarship Recipients.

“Aventine offers scholarships?” I asked.

Drago snorted. “Not the way you probably mean.”

Bram looked up from a stack of papers and frowned. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“There’s help if one of the families can’t swing the tuition,” Drago said.

“All due respect,” Remy said, “why the fuck wouldn’t your families be able to afford the tuition?”

“Sometimes they’re up-and-comers.” Neo rifled through one of the boxes as he spoke. “Or maybe someone’s father was killed in the line of duty or is doing a stint in the joint or something else that keeps them from earning.”