A loud thump came from downstairs. Could it be …
I jumped out of bed. Maybe when William Duffy said the answer was here, he’d meant he was here.
I raced downstairs, smelling coffee in the air the way I would in the mornings when Liam got up early and made us breakfast … but instead of finding my dream lover waiting for me, I found a redheaded girl sitting on the library couch. I’d forgotten about Little Red Riding Hood. And that I’d set the coffeemaker on automatic last night.
“Professor McFay?” she asked, rubbing her eyes. “Oh, thank God! I thought I might be at Alpha House, but then I didn’t think it would be this neat. What happened?”
“How much do you remember?” I asked, sitting down on a chair and sliding my arms into a cardigan that I’d discarded there. “Miss …” I peered at her, willing her name to pop into my head, but it was too early in the semester for me to remember all my new students’ names.
“Ruby Day,” she said, then with a grimace she added, “Ruby Tues Day. My parents were big into the Rolling Stones. I’m in your Intro to Fairy Tales class, but I don’t blame you for not recognizing me in this getup.” She looked down at her low-cut frilly blouse and turned as scarlet as her cloak—although, in truth, it wasn’t nearly as revealing as the outfits worn by some of the girls she’d been with. “I’m so embarrassed. My suite mates, Jessica and Debbie, talked me into going. I’ve always loved dressing up for Halloween, and I thought it was a good chance to use my Little Red Riding Hood outfit early. That’s the fairy tale I wrote about in your class yesterday.” I glanced guiltily at the stack of unread papers on the table. “But I didn’t know that the girls would dress up so … sexy … or that the boys would be so aggressive. Oh—” She clamped her hand to her mouth. “I do remember a boy trying to paw me. He didn’t … I didn’t …”
“No,” I said quickly. “He didn’t do anything to you. Frank—I mean Professor Delmarco—had a word with him, and then I brought you here, since you didn’t look like you could make it back to the dorm.”
Ruby blushed again. “Oh, Professor McFay, I am so mortified! I don’t usually drink, but the hot apple cider was so delicious and the boys said it had only a teensy bit of rum in it. It was kind of spicy, so I couldn’t really taste the alcohol.”
“Spicy?” I asked, peering closer at Ruby’s eyes. “What kind of spices?”
“Gosh, I don’t know. It reminded me of my gran’s pumpkin pie. And after I drank one, I wanted more … Oh, my, do you think they put that date rape drug in it?”
Ruby’s hazel eyes were wide and flecked with gold—which might have been her usual eye color or it may have been traces of Aelvesgold. Was that how the nephilim were going to accomplish Project NextGen? By spiking girls’ drinks with Aelvesgold?
“I don’t know, Ruby, but I’m going to the dean to complain about their behavior. In the meantime, tell your friends to stay away from the Alphas, and Ruby …” I hated having to en-spell the girl—she’d been tampered with enough—but I couldn’t risk her telling anyone about last night’s adventure with Frank at Alpha House. I leaned toward her and injected the gentlest of memory-expunging spells into my next words. “It’s important no one knows that Professor Delmarco and I were at Alpha House. Do you understand? Professor Delmarco and I were never at Alpha House.”
Ruby blinked. “Sure … whatever,” she said. “Hey, is that coffee I smell?”
I made breakfast for Ruby, who ate with the appetite of the very young. By the time she left my house—in borrowed jeans and sweatshirt—she didn’t look like a girl who’d been out carousing last night. When she was gone, I showered and dressed and then spent the morning grading papers and searching through my folklore books for any references to a hallow door that could be opened only on Halloween. Although I found many references to fairy sightings on Halloween, there was no mention of a particular door.
I walked to campus, enjoying the brisk September weather and the touches of fall color already tinting the trees, until I got on campus and noticed the orange flyers that had replaced the magenta ones—as if the virus had mutated. They were stapled on every bulletin board and lamppost. The Alphas couldn’t be throwing another party so soon … But when I read the flyer, I saw that no one would be throwing any parties anytime soon.
Attention from the Dean’s Office, the flyer read. Due to an act of vandalism last night at the Alpha Delta Chi House, all social functions and gatherings of more than six are hereby suspended until further notice.
“Man, that blows!”
I turned toward the voice and recognized Scott Wilder, who had been in one of my classes last year and was in the fairy tales class this year.
“Hey, Scott. When did these go up?”
“Dunno. I just got up. There was an email, too.” He grinned. “But I don’t have to tell you, Prof. I heard you and Mr. D went all vigilante on the Alpha House and schooled those dudes.” He held his hand up, palm out. “High five, Prof! That was epic!”
“Where did you hear all that, Scott?” I asked, gingerly slapping Scott’s hand.
Scott rubbed his head. Leaves fell out of his thick dirty-blond hair. Where had Scott been sleeping? I wondered. “Dunno, but everybody’s talking about it.”
Had my spell on Ruby Day failed? Or had someone else spread the story? But the only other person to witness the event was the Alpha whom Frank had punched, and it seemed unlikely that he would have spread the story of his inglorious trouncing by an over-thirty professor. Puzzled, I headed into Fraser Hall and upstairs, thinking I’d stop by Frank’s office, which was down the hall from my mine, and see if he had any ideas about who had leaked the story. When I got to the top of the stairs, though, I saw that my office door was wide open.
I should probably get Frank, I thought, instead of confronting an intruder on my own, but I was already crossing the hall, my skin itching at the violation of my space. I charged into my office, banging the door wide open, and found Duncan Laird standing in front of my desk, looking up at my bookshelves.
“You really do have an interesting collection of folklore here, Professor McFay,” he remarked, unperturbed by my dramatic entrance. “But nothing on angels or the Bible. Have you ever considered doing a class on angels?”
“No,” I snapped. “How did you get into my office?”
“The same way you got into mine,” he replied, turning and smiling blandly. “If you look at your door, you’ll find the traces of my skeleton-key spell, just as I found yours.”
I touched the lock but saw nothing.
“Use the spell,” he suggested.
“Adulterina clavis,” I whispered. An image of a skeleton key with an ornately carved bow appeared on the handle—a much more elaborate key than the one I’d used on Duncan’s door.
“Really, my dear, don’t you recall the lessons on wards I gave you this summer?” He smiled lasciviously. Before I knew that Duncan Laird was a nephilim, I’d thought he might be my incubus, and I’d let him get … well, a little too close. The memory made my skin crawl. “If you’d paid attention and read Wheelock’s footnote, you would have learned that the one downfall of the adulterina clavis spell is that it leaves a trace of its user—a sort of caller ID, if you will. If you like, I can show you how to block it.”