by Marian Gray
“Why does it look like this?” All my birth certificate contained was my name, the date, and the location. All other information have been redacted.
“Hmmm… You’re right. That is odd. Your birth certificate has been sealed.” She lifted the paper to her face and squinted at a small red stamp at the bottom of the page. “Someone with a lot of power doesn’t want anyone to know about your birth.”
“Why do you say that?”
She placed the certificate back on the counter and pointed to the seal. “This seal rate here. It’s a party seal and belongs to somebody very high up.”
“Do you know who exactly?”
She shook her head. “No unfortunately, I don’t. The stamp is used by all eleven members on the advisory board who report to the chairman. And it gives no date as to when it was sealed, so it’s nearly impossible to narrow down.”
I closed my eyes and hung my head in defeat, waiting for it to simply snap off my shoulders and roll away. The weight of this disappointment was unlike anything I’d ever felt before.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered.
“Me too,” I said as I turned and headed for the hospital doors. Another dead end into finding my father’s identity. I had no where else to run to and was beginning to believe I would never know.
Chapter Twenty-Five
While the winter break had been somewhat calm and relaxing, I was more than excited to return to school and see Ross and my other chambermates once again. It was difficult staying with family after having tasted supreme freedom. I tired of them following me around, squawking about what was and wasn’t proper for a highborn lady.
Despite my protests, we convened in the back of the main library, near the section reserved for academic personnel only. I had my reservations about gathering in public, but both Idris and Ross seemed certain we wouldn’t run into issues since classes had yet to begin and more than half of the student population hadn’t returned from break.
“No wonder upperclassmen just stay at the school,” Ross said as she crumpled into a chair. “That was murderous. My parents insisted on treating me the way they did when I was still in high school.” She rolled her eyes. “Curfew was at eleven o’clock, and they expected me up by nine doing chores.”
“I only saw my mom for one night. She seems to be in a good place. She joined a support group for those cast out and demonized by the party,” I said. “The rest of the time I was with my aunt and uncle. I’m beginning to hate the double life that we lead. It’s like I’m allowed to behave and do whatever I want when we are at home, but as soon as we step out the door, it turns into all these rules and reminders of how a lady is supposed to act.”
Ross whistled. “They’re prepping you for marriage.”
“Marriage? I’m only eighteen.”
“Nineteen, you underman,” Ross corrected. “We do things the old school way here. You don’t date, you court. Betrothals are commonplace. A large majority of students get married within a month of graduation. If you’re un-promised or unwed by the time you’re twenty-seven, you’re a spinster doomed to be a burden on the family.”
“It’s terrible but she’s right,” Idris added. “About two years ago my parents started hinting about marriage and finding a serious girlfriend, and now they’re laying it on thick. My dad has this theory that I’m carrying on casual affairs and just hiding them, while my mom believes I’m not taking this whole thing seriously enough.”
“That’s right.” Ross sat up. The light bulb clicking on in her head shone brightly through her eyes. “He’s a few years older than us. So, who’s the lucky lady you have your sights on?”
“For marriage?” He shrugged his shoulders. “I have a no idea. I don’t even know where to start. Everyone demands so much of me at school and in the community, I haven’t exactly had time to court anyone.”
“I’ve heard Mercedes Montcroix was the likely option.”
Flames exploded within me at the sound of her name. I had to stare at the weathered floorboards to hide the geyser of anger that bubbled beneath the surface.
“No.” Idris shook his head. “I promised someone I wouldn’t court her.”
“What?” Ross perked up, hungry for the scoop. “Who? And why? Do spill all, please, Idris. What does this person have to gain or possibly lose from you courting Lady Mercedes Montcroix?” She held her arms open. “This is the circle of trust: you, me, and Zuri.”
He laughed. Amusement played in his eyes. “It was a… I don’t even know what she is to me anymore. Anyway, I’m pretty sure she’s made me promise to stay away because she’s jealous.” He rubbed his hands together. Flashes of silvery periwinkle popped across my vision. “She wants me but refuses to swallow her pride.”
“Her pride?” Ross repeated. “Who is this woman?” She sat at the edge of her leather seat. “Obviously, a highborn. But what whitehand highborn would believe…?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense, especially considering Montcroix is already pawing at you.”
“Don’t worry too much about it. Near-relationships happen more frequently than you’d think. Most want to date the whitehand messiah persona and not Idris Young.”
“Tell me about it! It happens to me all the time! I’m constantly wondering when someone will see me for who I am, but the fame and power of being the best first year in Haraktology clouds their eyes.”
Ross’s humor numbed my anger, and a hearty chuckle poured out of me. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Are you really?” Idris asked.
“Oh yeah, my mom cried when she saw the nine on my transcript.”
“A nine?! Damn! Guessing you’re already eyeballing enchanting apprenticeships?” Idris asked.
“No, I should though.” She sighed. “I just have zero interest in enchanting. I only did well in Haraktology because I thought it was easy.”
“And what were your grades like, Lady Ebenmore?” Idris asked.
I died inside. Outside of the family, Ross was the only one I had told I received straight sixes—the very minimum necessary to pass—and I had no intention of telling another living soul.
“Speaking of grades.” Ross jumped in to save me. “Did you hear about Spacey?”
My heart dropped as I assumed the worst. “Did she lose her hands? Is that why she hasn’t shown up yet?” My breathing quickened, tugging me into the harsh reality that the Hand Collector was still out there. “I just can’t believe it, but at the same time, the mongrels are such loose cannons. No precautions. Easy pickins.”
“I guess it’s good to know what you really think about Spacey.” Ross was stunned by my response. “But, no, the Hand Collector didn’t add her hands to his beloved selection. Amber told me this morning that Spacey dropped out. Apparently, she received a mixture of unsatisfactory grades and the school said she could continue her studies if she repeated the semester. Spacey turned it down and stayed home instead.”
I couldn’t believe any of what I was hearing. “I knew she was struggling, but she quit? Why?”
“Blacksaw isn’t for everyone,” Idris answered. “And I promise she won’t be the last to go either.”
Ross deflated in her chair. “Well, now that I feel sufficiently grim, let’s dive into this meeting and discuss the Hand Collector.”
Idris popped his knuckles all at once. The sound made my own fingers hurt. “Did anyone learn anything useful over the break?”
“Nope.” Ross shook her head. “I tried to weasel out some more information about Professor Saviano from my dad, but with the holidays in full swing, the courts are shut down. No new news.”
“I learned something very useful,” I said.
“I did, too,” Idris said. “Why don’t you go first, Zuri?”
“We had a visit from the Sightless Sons over the break.” Horror streamed across Ross’s face, but I ignored her and continued. “The agency has ruled out the possibility of the attacker being a copycat. Whoever’s doing this is the original Hand Collector. W
hich means, it can’t possibly be Anouk. We weren’t even born when the Hand Collector was first at Blacksaw taking trophies.”
“How do they know is not a copycat?” Idris asked.
“Because of how the hands were removed. They have a very precise, clean line—medical grade. This same technique was used back in ’94.”
“I think I’m going to be sick.” Ross held her stomach and leaned back into her seat. “That is terrifying. The Hand Collector is back to prowling the campus grounds. I wonder what made him to start collecting again.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “No idea. But it’s obvious that whoever’s doing this knows his or her way around a blade, a scalpel probably to be more precise. And who in the school is known for having steady hands and hating whitehands?”
“Professor Claassen. Stiziologist extrodinaire,” Idris answered.
“He’s been flaying people’s hands for decades,” Ross added.
“And over the break, I found out that Professor Claassen first started lecturing here in 1994. That’s awfully coincidental that the attacks began the first year that he did.”
“So, it’s Claassen then, right?” Ross’s eyes bounced between the two of us.
“It has to be. My brother also told me that the party believes that Claassen’s a part of the Imperial Black.”
“How would your brother know something like that?” Ross asked.
“My brother works for the party.”
I shifted in my seat. “Regardless, Claassen’s participation in the Imperial Black doesn’t automatically make him a criminal. And it’s well known that whitehands whisper any powerful or disliked blackhand is a part of the Imperial Black. It’s an overused smear.”
Idris tilted his head and squinted at me, trying to discern if I was joking or not. “The Imperial Black is a hate group.”
“It’s a secret fraternity that supports blackhands.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Ross tossed up her hands. “The group is dead.”
Idris slumped in his seat, surrendering the point, but his gaze didn’t leave me. There was a certain fire in his eyes that told me he didn’t like what I had said.
“So,” Ross began, dragging the conversation back on task, “We all agree it’s Professor Claassen. He’s the Hand Collector, correct?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Claassen’s likely, but I had an incident with Lord Nicholas Adder that left me with the uneasy feeling in my gut.” I didn’t wait for them to tell me to go on. “I ran into him at the hospital. I was waiting to review my birth certificate, and he was there for the birth of his third child. At one point, he requested to see my hands.”
“What?” Incredulity painted Ross’s tone. “He asked to see your hands? That’s so weird.”
“It made me uncomfortable at first, but he explained it as wanting to see the Ebenmore transition. When I told him I didn’t have it, he continued to push, almost demanding that I show him my hands. It wasn’t until a family member showed up and pulled him back to his wife’s side that he left me alone.”
“That is pretty… unsettling.” Idris thought aloud. “And then with the blood on the cuff of his shirt the night Harley Wilson was attacked… We need to get a bit more aggressive about this.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“We can’t sit around and wait for clues to just fall into our laps. We need to be more active in our investigation.”
“But we’re just students. We don’t exactly have any power or authority over these men.” Ross pointed out.
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Then what? Do you intend to break into their offices and search for clues? We can’t get warrants or invite them in for an interview.”
Idris lit up. “That’s a great idea, Ross. Let’s break into their offices and search for some hard evidence.”
“No.” Ross shook her head. “No, no, no. If we get caught, we’ll get expelled.”
“And if we don’t, there’s a good chance that somebody else will get their hands removed against their will,” Idris said.
“Zuri, help me out here.”
I gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, Ross. But I think I’m with Idris on this one. The hard evidence that we need isn’t going to be handed to us. We’re going to have to take it.”
Ross froze, and her eyes grew wide. She tapped my hand with an uneven, desperate beat that only increased in tempo.
“What? What are you doing?”
“Middlemiss,” she hissed seconds before a dark shadow cast across the library table.
“What an interesting congregation,” Pwofese Middlemiss said behind me. “But don’t worry. I won’t ruin your reputations as long as Zuri comes with me. There’s something we need to discuss.”
I rose from my seat as the earth crumbled around. The ground shook beneath my feet my knees trembled. Panic embraced me whole, severing soul from body. As I followed her away from Idris and Ross, I was merely an observer—my limbs moved and reacted as though somebody else were controlling them.
She didn’t say anything as she led me to the faculty-only section of the library. The book shelves grew in height until the stood nearly twenty feet high, blocking out any and all sunlight. Only the glow of floating orb lights illuminated our way.
Middlemiss was leading me into the depths of the great library, far away from another living soul. She knew I was snuffed. This was my solemn walk to expulsion before being handed over to Chancellor Day.
“You’ve been difficult to get ahold of outside class,” she said as she turned to face me Her arms folded across her chest.
I didn’t say anything in reply, just stood there and stared at her, reeling from the shock that this was actually happening. If anyone was going to realize my status, I expected it to be my biology professor, Professor Robben, not my history professor.
“But,” she continued, “I have a feeling that was on purpose. I had half a mind to summon you to my office ten separate times but withheld. As we both know, summons aren’t the most polite way to request somebody’s presence. I didn’t want to start off this conversation on the wrong foot, but it appears that was unavoidable.”
I blinked, feeling all the hope drain out of me from the tips of my toes. I hated that she was prolonging inevitable with a lecture.
“How long have you known?” She asked me. “Or do you even know?”
I couldn’t decide whether now was the time to play it down or come clean. “I’ve known for a while, but as you can see it doesn’t affect my life. I passed all my exams, turned in all my homework and didn’t skip any classes. There’s no reason to report me to the Sightless Sons.”
“The Sightless Sons?” Her brow crinkled. “Oh, Zuri, and I’d never do something like that. I wouldn’t wish that upon my worst enemy.” She scrunched her nose acting as though she had smelled something awful. “They’re brutal beasts that feast on the smallest shred of meat that they come across.”
I breathed a small sigh of relief. “Thank you. You have no idea how desperate I am to stay out of their crosshairs.” It’s not like my efforts were working though, considering Chief Inspector Cowell had decided to pay us a visit on a hunch that we would be in North Carolina with my mom.
“However, I do want you to tell Chancellor Day. Given the possible predicament this will put her in, she needs to know. She needs to be able to prepare.”
My relief withered away. “Prepare for what?” Uncle Hank had always said that she allowed my mom to be dismissed quietly. Was it to prepare for a barrage of questions from the party or to prepare a quiet getaway?
“For when the world finds out.” There was a small laugh on her lips as she leaned back in her chair. “You don’t think you’ll be able to hide this forever, do you?”
“No, I guess not.” But I hoped I would be able to.
“Good.” She rose from her chair. “I won’t mention this to anybody else. As for now, your secret is safe with me. But if you don’t say anythi
ng to Chancellor Day, I will be moved to do so. You may go.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chief Inspector Cowell hadn’t lied when he said the Sightless Sons were coming to Blacksaw. They arrived on the first day of classes and swarmed the grounds like little ants. I had expected them to at least try and blend in with the student population, but they did everything they could to stand out, donning stiff light gray uniforms and military-style cap hats.
Despite their overwhelming presence, the three of us carried on with our plans. Our first target was Professor Claassen’s office.
Instead of going back to our dorms at curfew like we were supposed to, we hid in the abandoned library until the clock struck two in the morning. Idris navigated our path to the stiziology department, using the map to take us along off-beaten paths and some routes that were accessible to whitehands only to avoid the guards posted in the main corridors.
We didn’t stop until we reached a nondescript door that was only accessible through a smaller wing. It was a simple mahogany with a fogged-window cutout and an aged knob. This was preferable to the department’s main entrance due to all the lurking eyes, but we soon ran into a problem.
“I can’t open the door,” Idris said. “And my hand kind of tingles…”
“It’s ink-locked,” Ross said.
Idris nodded in agreement. “Locked to whitehands. One of you two will have to open it.”
I stretched out my arm and gripped the brass. It was cool to the touch. When I turned my arm, the lock mechanism didn’t give. I tried it three more times before Ross hissed for me to be quiet.
“One of those Sightless Sons will hear you.”
I turned to both of them with shock on my tongue. “I can’t open the door,” I whispered. “It’s locked-locked.”
Idris’s brow creased. “That’s impossible. It would be a fire code violation if the secondary entrance was completely locked.”
“Yeah, only some of us are allowed to live if a fire breaks out.” Ross stepped forward, nudging us out of the way. “Let me try.” She grabbed the doorknob, twisted, and opened our way to a large corridor.
