The Concealed (The Lakewood Series Book 1)

by Sarah Kleck

  When Professor Ginsburgh finally ended the lecture after a torturous eternity, Jared suddenly rose and hurried out the door after a formal “Good-bye, Evelyn.”

  Good-bye, Evelyn? What was that?

  I thought. We spoke of running. I said that I didn’t like running but preferred to swim . . . Did he have some kind of problem with swimming? That was absurd. But something had bothered or even shocked him. It made no sense. What confused me most was that a small part of me—notwithstanding the many questions in my head—had enjoyed how it felt when he pronounced my name. Even if it was coupled with good-bye.

  I was one of the last in the lecture hall to get up, and I walked lost in thought to the door. Just as I reached the bottom of the stairs and was about to go outside, I suddenly hit something hard with my foot. I stumbled and only caught my balance at the last moment.

  “Hey, Blondie, are you trying to get with Jared?” a malicious voice asked behind me. Unbelievable—the redhead had actually tripped me. I was happy that I didn’t give her the satisfaction of falling flat on my face. Then I became enraged.

  “Did you just trip me?” I asked, drilling my eyes into her. Flanked by a friend, she was standing before me and looked at me with narrowed eyes. I wished I could hit her.

  “Nobility shouldn’t mingle with the plebs, don’t you think?” Her voice dripped with superiority.

  “What’s your problem?” I said.

  “You know . . . Christ Church used to be a good school, but since they started to let just anybody study here”—she made a dismissive hand motion—“the standards are declining quickly!”

  “Evelyn, that’s where you’re hiding!” Sally said, preventing me from slapping the redhead. With Felix in tow, she hurried up to me.

  “Madison, my dear, how are you today?” Sally asked with an overly sweet voice. “Aren’t you supposed to be drowning kittens in the river?”

  Felix stepped up beside me as if he had to protect me from Madison and her friend. Madison recognized that she had better move along, pulled her friend by the arm, and stomped off with a beet-red face.

  “Hide and hair, shade in shade,” said Sally as if reciting a poem, and Felix burst out laughing.

  “What did that stupid cow want?” he asked when he’d settled down.

  “She tripped me when I was going out the door.”

  “She did what?” Sally asked.

  “Yes,” I said, outraged. “Can you believe it?”

  “Did you fall?” Felix asked, worried.

  I rolled my eyes. Did he think I always fell? “No,” I said, irritated.

  “Did she say something to you?” Sally asked, ignoring Felix.

  “Yes, along the lines of ‘Nobility shouldn’t mingle with the plebs.’”

  “Nobility? Whom did she mean?”

  “I’m not really sure,” I said. “Probably Jared Calmburry.”

  “What do you have to do with Calmburry?” Felix asked. What gave him the right to speak to me in that tone?

  “He sat down beside me during the lecture,” I said.

  “Why? Was there no other seat?” Sally asked.

  I raised an eyebrow and looked at her.

  “No, no, not what you think,” she quickly explained and attempted to appease me. “I just mean . . . normally he only sits with his buddies. As I’ve already told you: they prefer to be among themselves. And as far as Madison’s concerned—everybody knows she’s had a crush on Calmburry forever and would do anything to get together with him. She’s a real bitch to any girl who crosses her.”

  “What did Calmburry want from you?” Felix asked, a hint of reproach in the question.

  “Nothing. What would he want?”

  “What did you talk about?”

  I felt like I was in a police interrogation. It was really none of Felix’s business. I didn’t answer and was grateful when Sally shut him up with “What’s it to you, stalker?”

  Since we all had Social Psychology as the last lecture of the day, Felix, Sally, and I went to the lecture hall together. I had no interest in chatting with the two of them—or rather, subjecting myself to a cross-examination—so I focused on the professor and took more notes than required.

  When the lecture ended, I quickly left. I longed for a warm shower.

  Back in my room, I stripped on the way into the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothing. As always, warm water immediately helped. I could finally think more clearly and relax my muscles. It was as if water supplied my cells with energy and vitality. I closed my eyes, opened my mouth, and let the water run over my face. I only turned it off when the temperature noticeably dropped, and then I got out and dried myself off. I pulled on some jogging pants and a T-shirt before gathering up the clothing I had carelessly dropped and putting it into an improvised laundry basket—one of my suitcases. Fortunately, there was a laundry room in the basement of the dorm so I didn’t have to wander into town to look for a laundromat.

  Since there was nothing better to do, I grabbed the laundry suitcase and headed for the basement. On my way, I passed two girls who were arguing loudly in the middle of the hallway. Going down the stairs, I almost bumped into the RA, who had shown me my room and explained the house rules. Obviously, the noise from the arguing girls had attracted him and he seemed determined to quiet them down. He reminded me of one of those whistle-blowing cops in old black-and-white movies.

  There were three washing machines (one was being used) and a dryer. Detergent and fabric softener sat on a wobbly shelf that was poorly screwed into the wall above the machines. There was also a small cash box for laundry fees. I stuffed my clothes into one of the empty machines, added detergent and fabric softener, and started the load. Then I fished a few coins from my pocket and dropped them into the cash box.

  After standing around for a while watching the washer spin, I noticed it was only a little after six o’clock—too early to go to bed. How was I going to spend the evening? I hadn’t been to the library yet. And as far as I knew, it was open until ten. So I went upstairs where the pimply RA was still trying to keep the two girls from scratching each other’s eyes out, carefully dried my hair so I wouldn’t catch a cold, put on a good pair of pants, and was on my way.

  It had become dark, and I was a little afraid despite the streetlights. I’ve been terribly fearful of the dark since my parents died. For a while after, Zara kept the light on at night because I wasn’t able to fall asleep without it. It got better over time and at some point I no longer needed the night-light. But now, with Zara no longer there, it was almost as bad as back then—especially after seeing that strange guy. Could he really have followed me to Oxford?

  I hurried along the snow-covered footpaths, looking around every few steps, and reached the Bodleian Library after a few minutes.

  It was impressive. So huge and imposing that I didn’t know where to start.

  Countless ornaments decorated the vaulted, stucco ceiling. Several giant shelving units extended along the central aisle. They were filled with books that smelled of worn leather, faded parchment, and ink. I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent. Books always had such a wonderful smell. Everywhere in the world. There was always something familiar about that. Something constant. I took a moment to enjoy it.

  “Good evening,” an older, colorfully dressed woman with short gray hair greeted me at the information desk.

  “Good evening,” I said, somewhat surprised. I hadn’t noticed her when I entered. “Would you please tell me where I can find the psychology section?”

  She explained the route to me with the help of a laminated building plan glued to the dark wooden counter. Then she gave me a friendly smile and turned back to her magazine. I thanked her and, passing the wide, dark-brown reading tables at which a few students were seated, I headed in the direction she had indicated.

  I passed giant shelves with sci
entific literature. Some books were rather new and others had heavy, worn bindings that showed they’d passed through many hands. I’ve always had a weakness for older books like these. Their smell, their feel, everything about them was somehow magical.

  While I walked through these aisles, one section in particular caught my eye. It was marked with a large FE and held only ancient, leather-bound books. Each seemed to have its own story. I couldn’t resist running my finger over their worn spines as if trying to become part of their history.

  Ow!

  I shrank back from the book I had just touched as though I’d received an electrical shock. I hesitated. What was that? Astonished and curious, I pulled the book from the shelf and took a closer look. It was very old and seemed to have been restored several times. A barely visible embossed pattern had nearly been worn flat on the front cover. I ran my fingertips over it and traced the delicate lines. I recognized a sword crossing a staff at the center. Above it, a stylized sun, moon, and stars were shown in a circle. This symbol seemed familiar. I was almost certain I’d seen it somewhere. Now my curiosity was really piqued.

  I carefully opened the book and started deciphering the faded writing. It took considerable effort to decode the medieval letters. After a few pages, I had decided to put the book back on the shelf when a word in the middle of a sentence caught my eye—Calmburry.

  I felt hot. I shut the book and looked at the embossed design on the leather cover. Of course! Why didn’t I think of this right away? It was a crest. The family crest of the Calmburrys. I’d come across it on the Internet when I googled Jared’s name.

  My hands were moist. Suddenly, it felt as if I were doing something forbidden. I didn’t want to be caught with this book in my hands so I warily looked over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t being watched. No one was in sight. I could hear the librarian at the information desk turning a page in her magazine. I cautiously reopened the book, took a deep breath, and started reading again.

  The Calmburry family tree extended far back into the Middle Ages. As far as I could tell, there was talk of a Kenneth Calmburry, who lived around AD 500 and had lands in the northwest of Wales that extended all the way from modern Liverpool deep into Snowdonia National Park.

  He and his wife Eowyn had eleven children, but only eight made it through their first year of life. Two more children died during a major famine that hit the entire region hard. The four remaining sons, Mael, Byron, Kelby, and Myrddin, as well as the firstborn, Imogen, and the youngest, Moyra, during whose birth Eowyn died, were to divide the lands of their father after his death. But an intense dispute broke out between them over their inheritance. Envy, greed, and distrust drove a wedge between the siblings, and two factions formed. The three older ones, Imogen, Mael, and Byron, fought hard over the inheritance while the younger ones, Kelby, Myrddin, and young Moyra, refused their share for the sake of peace. Many years of arguing passed, during which the land was not cultivated and it became unusable.

  When the siblings finally came together in their father’s house to definitively divide up his possessions, a terrible accident happened. At night, Imogen’s youngest son snuck into the stables to look after the horses. By accident, he set the animals’ hay on fire. Mael, Byron, and Imogen all died with their families in the fire.

  After a period of mourning for the lost siblings, the younger ones divided their beloved father’s land evenly among themselves and cultivated it. Soon more people settled there and built small villages, where they raised crops and bred animals for the market. The three siblings were pleased with their work and were proud to have preserved their father’s memory. Kelby, who owned the northern part of the lands, married a stunningly beautiful woman whom he dearly loved and was always faithful to, though she gave him no heirs. Moyra dedicated herself to faith and went into a nunnery in Ireland after Irish monks spread Christianity throughout Wales.

  But Myrddin felt the call of the wider world. During his travels throughout Europe, he apprenticed with many healers and masters. In every country he visited, he took a wife and each bore him a healthy heir. Some years later he finally returned to England and . . . ding-dang-dong echoed through the library halls. I was so startled that the heavy book fell from my hands, hitting the floor with a loud thud.

  “The library will close in a few minutes,” the voice of the woman at the information desk sounded over the loudspeakers. Impossible! That couldn’t be right. I pulled my phone from my bag.

  Indeed, it was almost ten. How long had I been reading? It must have been more than three hours. I quickly collected my belongings and picked up the book. I was torn. Should I put it back on the shelf and return the next day or should I check it out and, as a consequence, reveal my interest in the family history of the Calmburrys—if that’s what this was? For a moment, I hesitated and bit my lower lip.

  I couldn’t help myself—I grabbed the book and calmly walked to the information desk, though I would rather have run.

  “Hello,” I said to the librarian behind the counter. “I would like to check this one out.” I shyly pushed the book over to her.

  She raised her eyebrows, took her red, sparkly glasses that were dangling from her neck by a cord, and put them on. She was probably suffering from severe age-related farsightedness because she had to hold the book as far away as her arms would allow. How did she manage to read her magazine?

  “Oh,” she said, surprised, and looked at me. “I’m sorry, but this book is noncirculating. To be precise, it’s not even supposed to be removed from the FE section. I must ask you to return it.” She pushed the book back across the counter.

  “Oh . . . okay,” I said and reached for the book.

  The old woman probed me with her eyes. “You know what? I’ll return it for you,” she said after a short pause and grabbed the book so suddenly I had no time to react. She was probably afraid I would steal it.

  “Have a pleasant evening.”

  “Yes . . . you, too,” I said and looked one more time into her eyes before turning and heading for the exit. There was nothing to do about the book but come back tomorrow.

  While walking the streets back to my dorm, I was angry at having revealed my interest in the book and not having been able to check it out despite that. Madness! The hours I had spent in the library seemed like minutes. The history of the Calmburrys had enraptured me so much I had become completely immersed. As soon as classes were over tomorrow, I would return to the library to continue reading. I could hardly wait.

  That night I dreamt of Eowyn. Her long black hair gently flowed in the breeze, and the gleaming white dress in which she was wrapped rippled in smooth waves around her perfect body. A wonderful glow enveloped her entire figure in light. She stood there, otherworldly and beautiful, looking at her youngest son, Myrddin. He kneeled at her feet and looked up to his angelic mother, full of awe and love. With a hint of a smile, Eowyn leaned forward and tenderly kissed him on the forehead. As her lips touched his skin, part of her golden radiance passed to him.

  CHAPTER 5

  I awoke the next morning thinking of the book. I could hardly wait to find out more of Myrddin’s story. But first I had to get through the day. I quickly brushed my teeth, washed my face, and dressed. As I made my way to the lecture hall for Psychology of Memory, I saw Felix waving in the distance. Though I still resented the tone he’d used with me yesterday, I didn’t let it show.

  “Hey, there you are,” he said. “You were gone so quickly yesterday I didn’t get a chance to say good-bye.”

  “Well, I was really tired,” I lied. Maybe I should forgive his behavior—after all, he’d only wanted to help.

  “Hmm, when I started school here, I was pretty beat for a while. But that passes,” he said, smiling.

  “I would hope so.” I smiled back.

  “Do you have plans for the afternoon?” Felix asked.

  “Well, I’m planning to go to t
he library, so . . .”

  “Oh good, I’ll come with you. I can show you around a little.” I wasn’t expecting that. Nothing against Felix, but I wanted to go there by myself to read in peace.

  “That’s nice of you, but you don’t need to come with me. Surely, you have better things to do than spend the afternoon in the library.”

  “No problem, it’s my pleasure.” Apparently, not even a sledgehammer-like hint could discourage him. I sighed.

  “Shall we?” he asked and held the door open for me. I forced myself to smile and entered the lecture hall. Felix sat beside me as soon as I was seated, and just like the day before, he appeared more interested in me than in the professor. But today I wanted to pay attention. And since Madison wasn’t nearby and I had no reason to talk to Felix during the lecture, I asked him to save our talk till lunch. I’d barely closed my mouth when I heard giggling behind me. Someone seemed amused that I had silenced Felix. Curious, I turned around and saw an amused-looking young man with moss-green eyes. He gave me a friendly wink, which earned him a forceful kick under the seat from his ill-tempered neighbor. They both looked familiar.

  But why?

  Suddenly I remembered them. I’d seen them running. With Jared. I remembered that the one with the green eyes smiled while passing. And the other, the dark-haired one, looked at me as if I’d just run over his dog.

  “Do you know those two?” Felix asked.

  “No,” I said and concentrated on the professor before Felix was tempted to continue. I spent the next hour silent out of necessity, eyes directed to the front. My thoughts wandered, although I was determined to concentrate. The book wouldn’t let me go. Was this really Jared Calmburry’s family chronicle? I just couldn’t get him out of my head.

  At noon, I found Felix beaming as he waited for me outside the dining hall.

  “You really are turning into a stalker,” Sally said after we joined her in the cafeteria line.