Page 4 of What Happened on Roslyn Street? (Strode University #1)

Chapter Three

I t’s time for orientation. Great. This is exactly what I want to do when I have a murder to solve.

Do I want to be here? Not particularly, but the most important part of my plan is to blend in. I’m sure some students skip orientation, but I won’t be one of them.

If you ignore the monsters, Strode is still your average university. Frankly, if I graduate, it will be a more prestigious degree than I can afford.

Not to mention, I’m still paying Strode prices. I’ll be drowning in debt by the time this is over—I may as well get an education out of it.

Graduating feels like a hefty ‘if’ after my talk with Margaux. She’s convinced I’m more likely to die than get a decent education. Maybe she’s right, but I’ll never know unless I try.

A crowd gathers around a single professor in the courtyard.

As I join, paranoia finds me again. My hair stands on end, and the back of my neck prickles.

Someone is watching me—one of the students?

Or all of them? They aren’t. They know. They can’t.

Can they? I lift my head higher, ignoring the twisting in my gut.

Anything the instructor says goes in one ear and out the other. I scan the crowd as the professor drones about quiet hours, attendance… all the things I should be listening to. Following those rules isn’t a priority. You don’t catch a murderer by following curfews.

I memorize the faces around me instead, searing them into my mind. There are only ten new students—in an entire year. It’s unfathomable.

Their faces mean nothing to me now, but I file them away for later.

My attention moves to the next student, and I find their gaze is already locked with mine.

He’s unassuming. He towers over the rest of the students by a good few inches. When the sunlight hits his eyes, they’re striking—a mix of blue and green.

I’ve been staring too long.

He lifts a brow. The action is somehow a challenge, as is how he carries himself. His energy sends a shiver up my spine, even as he does what would otherwise be a friendly gesture—lifting his hand and offering a simple wave.

I turn away, pretending I don’t notice him at all.

But his stare lingers.

He must be a vampire; he watches me like he’s planning his next meal. That alone isn’t enough to make me curious about him, but…

There’s still my intuition. My gut instinct is the biggest lead in this case, and I trust it. There’s nothing else to follow, and the prickle up my spine is begging me to chase after him.

Not that I do much chasing—he does it for me.

The stranger makes his way toward me with subtle motions. He stands quietly, but his presence is loud.

I know he’s behind me without turning. Sure enough—the spot he was standing in is vacant.

I stand straighter—stiff, still, and stubborn.

He leans in, his head low enough to speak for only me. “You aren’t new,” he says softly.

My eyes widen, and my pulse races. It’s the first time all day I’ve felt out of control. What can he mean? I turn to face him, brows furrowing.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, head tilting to the side. “Do I know you?”

“No…” He draws away. “But I have seen you at the library. I worked there over the summer.”

The explanation brings me little comfort.

“That means you aren’t new either,” I say.

“Correct. I moved here two years ago.”

“Well…” My jaw tightens. How much should I hold back? “You’re right, I’m not new to Castine. I was raised here… but I’m new to the school. Not that it matters.”

He’s wasting my time.

I’ll admit—I hadn’t been paying attention to the speech. I turn away now, giving the professor my attention for the first time.

“It does matter,” he says. “I was under the impression you were sneaking into orientation. That would have been highly concerning.”

Fuck . He doesn’t know—there’s no way for him to—but he’s closer to the truth than he realizes. I try not to panic—to not let it show on my face.

“Well, I’m not,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “And you don’t own the library! I’ve been visiting since I was a kid. You’re the new one here.”

Castine is a moderately sized town—at least, for a state that’s full of small towns.

It’s nowhere as populated as Portland, but I don’t know everyone.

Not even close. Half the people in Strode evacuate for the winter, and the other half leave in the summer.

That means this man is an interesting case.

But I worry he’s taking an interest in me, too.

It feels like we’re dancing around each other. I’m breathless and riddled with nerves. I don’t have time for this game.

“Oh, to live one’s entire life in Castine…” He hums. “I’m not sure I could handle it.”

Do I want to live in Castine forever? Of course not, but some strange visitor talking down on the town doesn’t sit right with me.

“You would be lucky to have a permanent place here,” I say.

His piercing gaze lingers on me for a long moment.

“The winters,” he says, by way of explanation. “I’m not sure how long I can handle the cold. Eventually, my bones will grow weary.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” I say without looking at him. “You seem like the type to travel around with no concern for others, so… I’m sure you’ll continue to do that.”

A guess, based on him being new in town.

I make a note of the facts, even small ones. If he’s been in town for two years, he could be connected to Poppy’s disappearance—more than the eight other freshmen surrounding us.

Or maybe he’s not, but… I’m curious about him. It unsettles me.

“You are quick to assume the type of person I am.” He sighs. “What does this conversation say about the kind of person you are? Are you this rude to everyone?”

“Yes.” I grind my teeth.

“That’s good to know. I wouldn’t want any special treatment.”

I don’t respond and, to my relief, he allows the quiet to take over. The crowd thins, the professor bids farewell, and I am free of this man…

Until I hear footsteps coming from behind. I glance down at the map, brow furrowed as I navigate to my first class.

“What do you want?” I ask in a clipped tone.

“What are you?” he asks, as though it’s a normal question.

I forget where I am, and his words sound offensive to my ear. My entire body freezes.

“Excuse you? My name is Tobey, if that’s what you’re asking.” I refuse to give him more.

“I know that.” He gestures vaguely to the name tag on my chest. “I meant… are you a witch, or…” He scrutinizes me for another moment. “Not a merperson? You don’t seem like a merperson.”

Right. I flush and look away. It’s a normal question to ask here, even if it’s one I’m still getting used to.

“Are those the only options?” I ask.

“There are many, but I was trying to guess.”

“You guessed badly. I’m a werecat.” I don’t sound as confident as I would like.

“Oh? I’ve never met one of those.”

Shit. I picked a rare species so no one can call me on my bluff, but what if it’s too rare? Now, everyone is going to talk about me!

“Well,” I say, “now you have. Congratulations. Can I go to class, or would you prefer to keep interviewing me?”

I have questions for him, but now isn’t the time.

I’m afraid of pressing too hard with my questioning, but he doesn’t seem to have the same concern.

“You don’t have to worry so much about punctuality. It’s the first day, any professor will be easy on you—and the next block of classes doesn’t start for… oh, twenty minutes.”

I lift my map. “This campus is huge, and I have no idea where I’m going. It will take twenty minutes to find my way there.”

“Well…” He straightens up, his lips twitching at the corners. “Who is your next class with?”

My lips twist. “Professor Cruz.”

Margaux’s father. Not only did she lie about being a vampire, but she lied to me about her parents.

I’m beginning to think her entire life was a lie.

Growing up, her father’s job was always changing; one week she would claim he was a DJ, and the next he would be a pet groomer.

Now, I realize he was a professor at this creepy school all along.

Margaux has always had interesting embellishments. Saying he was a teacher elsewhere would have sufficed.

“Let me walk you to class,” he says.

It feels more like a command than a question, but he lingers, waiting for my answer.

“Do you know the way?” I lift a brow.

“No.” He snatches my map, walking forward. “But we can find it together.”

I stare at him, jaw dropped, for several moments before scrambling to catch up.

“Don’t you have a map of your own?” I ask, tagging along behind him.

“I forgot to take one.”

“Of course you did. You were very distracted at orientation.” Distracted by me , though I can’t understand why.

“You could say that.” He concentrates on the map in his hand. Turning left, he leads me to the opposite end of the courtyard. “We’ll have to share this one. I think you were going the wrong way.”

“I can do it myself.”

He seems to realize how bad I am at directions, and I need to defend myself. It’s a matter of survival. The last thing I want is to seem like someone who can’t find their way around.

“I know,” he says. “I’m using you for your map. I thought you would have gotten that by now.”

He’s not wearing a name tag, I realize. How peculiar. The rest of the students at orientation had one.

“In that case, the least you can do is give me your name.”

I should ask what he is, but I’ve already made up my mind. If vampires are real—and they are—this man is one of them. He is the embodiment of too many young adult vampire movies, a walking cliche.

“Ah, I suppose you’re right. It’s only fair.” He squints at the map before gracing me with an answer. “Caldwell.”

“Caldwell,” I repeat, giving him a look of disbelief.

“Yes?” He opens the door. “That’s my name. You asked for it. Did you forget already?”

“I wasn’t expecting Caldwell to be the answer.”

“Well, it is.” He gestures vaguely. “And this is your building. Go on.”

I step in and hesitate, holding out my hand. “My map.”

He presses his lips together as he hands it to me. “I was hoping you would forget.”