On the opposite side of the central plaza, entirely removed from the heavy shadow of the phone booth, Rein and Claire had found a small pocket of simulated normalcy. They were sitting cross-legged on a thick patch of clover beneath the wide, sprawling branches of an enormous elm tree directly in front of their residential hall.
The morning sun filtered through the green canopy, dappling the grass with warm, golden light. Between them sat a cardboard tray holding two large iced lattes and a half-eaten box of powdered donuts. To any passing professor or security guard, they were simply two college girls enjoying a lazy Saturday morning after a big game, completely insulated from the drama of the world.
"I'm just saying," Claire said, dusting a faint smudge of powdered sugar off her denim jacket before taking a slow sip of her drink, "if Jackson had actually dropped twenty points like he promised the bench, Lira probably would have had to use her compulsion just to keep him from proposing to her at the free-throw line."
Rein let out a low, melodious laugh, her head leaning back against the rough bark of the elm tree. She had her dark lenses pushed up onto her hair, her sharp, eyes completely relaxed as she watched a stray squirrel dart across the root system.
"Oh, without a doubt," Rein agreed, her tone carrying an easy, unbothered chill that showed just how little the morning's police presence affected her. "But you have to admit, the timing of the whole thing is almost comical. Look at them down there." She gestured with her plastic straw toward a pair of uniformed Vince Duchy agents who were meticulously searching the bushes near the bike racks with long metal prods. "The entire local department is running around like ants in a ruined hill, turning over every single leaf and interrogation log, and they are completely oblivious to the fact that the 'suspect' they're looking for is currently hiding under a wool blanket three floors up from their parking lot."
Claire let out a soft snort, her shoulders shaking with a quiet, suppressed amusement. "It really is absurd. Yesterday we were literally screaming our lungs out next to a giant foam mascot, Ryan was playing patty-cake with a student section, and today the state bureau thinks there's a sophisticated cartel hit squad embedded in the arts department. I almost feel bad for them. They're analyzing camera glare and timestamp logs, trying to find a pattern in a puzzle where we already own all the pieces."
"Let them experience the stress," Rein murmured, her voice dropping into a comfortable, lazy lilt as she reached for another donut. "The more they look for a phantom pack of wolves or a digital trail, the less they look at us. As long as Lira keeps the girls' patterns tight and Damon stays inside until his complexion stabilizes, this entire investigation will dissolve into a cold case by Tuesday. It's just another normal day on campus, little sis, enjoy the coffee."
But while the team viewed the perimeter with a cold, veteran detachment, the actual human population of the university was entering a state of absolute, superstitious hysteria.
Near the eastern boundary of the quad, where the yellow crime scene tape formed a sharp, plastic line against the dark tree line, Caleb stood surrounded by his usual huddle of fraternity brothers and club members. They were all leaning over the low stone wall, their eyes wide and glued to the distant shape of the massive oak tree where the forensics team was still snapping high-flash photographs of the blood-stained bark.
"I'm telling you guys, my cousin goes to a school upstate and the exact same thing happened three years ago," Caleb whispered conspiratorially, his hands moving in wide, dramatic gestures as his friends pressed closer to listen. "The cops always say it's a 'homicide' or a 'wild animal attack' to keep the parents from panicking and pulling their tuition money. But look at the bark! You see how high up those scratches are? No regular guy with a knife is reaching ten feet into the air to shred a tree trunk like that."
"Dude, shut up, you're giving me chills," one of his buddies muttered, shifting uncomfortably in his oversized school hoodie as he stared into the dark, dense shadows of the woods. "You think it's like... a cult thing? Like some weird ritual from the old settlement before the university was built?"
"It's totally a werewolf, man," another student chimed in, his voice dead serious as he adjusted his glasses, looking thoroughly terrified yet entirely captivated by his own theory. "Think about it! There was a full moon two nights ago. The atmosphere in the gym during the game was totally primal. My roommate swears he heard this deep, echoing howl right around two AM, coming from behind the northern dorms. He thought it was just some drunk guys from the rugby team, but now? With the state police out here with actual tactical shotguns? Something ancient is living in those woods, bro. We're literally sleeping fifty yards away from a monster."
"Bro, if I see anything with fur and fangs on my way back from the library tonight, I am not running," Caleb declared dramatically, pounding his fist against the stone wall. "I am jumping out the second-story window of the lounge. I don't care about the broken ankles. This campus is cursed, man. First the old janitor Crook goes missing into thin air this morning, and now we've got a literal horror movie scene in our backyard."
The group continued to bicker and trade increasingly wild, superstitious rumors, their voices rising and falling in a frantic, rowdy chorus that filled the eastern edge of the quad with an electric sense of dread. They were completely caught up in the spectacle of the supernatural, treating the dark reality like a campfire story, entirely unaware that the true architect of that horror was currently sitting in a quiet room.