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Scarsdell Academy
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Jake Crowley startled awake at the incessant banging. His body curled in on itself without conscious thought as his hand reached for a weapon. He turned into a sitting position, unable to find the assault rifle, and something twisted up around his legs. He let out grunt, half fear, half determination. The kind of determination that had kept him alive thus far. Then reality swam back in through his sleep-muddled mind. He was safe, in his bed, in the strange old building in Suffolk.
“You’re not in the service any longer. You took a teaching job at Scarsdell Academy,” he said aloud, reminding himself his war was over. He wondered if the nightmares would ever end.
The banging was knocking on his bedroom door. He clambered from bed and pulled on a robe calling out, “Just a minute.” His voice was thick with sleep. He trudged across the large wood-paneled room on the top floor of the old academy in Market Scarston, on the same floor as the student dorms. He was the newest on staff, after all, and hadn’t earned a fancier suite elsewhere like the senior teachers. Which meant he got the privilege of playing babysitter to a horde of teenage boys. He dragged one hand over his face, and opened the door.
Bradley Davenport stood outside in his pajamas. Fourth year, maybe fifth year? Crowley couldn’t remember. If he was honest, after the troubles he’d managed to get into following his time in the SAS, he was having trouble adjusting to civilian life. He needed to get his head straightened out.
“You’re needed at once,” Bradley said.
“What’s happening?”
“Tommy is missing, Sir.” At Crowley’s frown, Bradley said, “Tommy Arundel. Fifth year. Spoiled rich kid.”
Crowley nodded, realization dawning. If he were honest, he was neither sorry nor surprised the boy was missing. Arrogant, risk-taker, always looking for trouble. Crowley allowed himself a private smile. Perhaps Tommy Arundel wasn’t so different from Crowley himself at that age. “I’ll be right down.”
Bradley nodded and hurried away. Crowley dressed quickly, then headed down to the common room. As he approached the large, ground-floor room with its couches and leather armchairs, he heard a woman’s voice say, “Don’t see what you need him for.”
Crowley recognized Elizabeth Morgan’s voice. From the start she’d made it clear that she didn’t like him and he had no idea why. She was a fellow teacher, the newest one before he arrived. Maybe she resented him stealing her baby of the faculty position. Juvenile though he knew it was, he always called her Beth, just to annoy her. When they’d first met and been introduced, he’d said, “Nice to meet you, Beth,” and she’d snapped, “Elizabeth, thank you!” It had set the tone for their relationship from that point on. Her room was on the same floor as Crowley’s, at the other end of the dormitories. She was the resident advisor. Bradley must have awoken her first, and Crowley wasn’t sure why that irked him, but it did.
Morgan fell quiet as he entered, looked away. He managed to give her a smarmy grin before she averted her eyes. Bradley Davenport stood beside her and on her other side was the Headmaster, Archibald Beckett. Ranged nervously in front of the teachers were three more sixth years, Charles Bale, whom everyone called Chas, Nathalie Evans, known as Nats, and Emma Warwick.
“Thank you for joining us,” Beckett said. He turned back to the three sixth years. “Now, for the benefit of Mr. Crowley and Ms. Morgan, please tell us what happened.”
The teenagers looked nervously at each other. Eventually Nats gave Chas a shove. He nodded quickly, looked at each teacher in turn. “We went out,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“Out of bounds? After hours?” Beckett asked, as if to emphasize the illegality of the act.
“Yes, Sir. We went to the village. Just to, you know, hang out.”
“Drinking and smoking?” Morgan asked, hands on hips.
Chas reddened, but didn’t reply.
“Where did you go exactly?” Crowley asked.
“Old Scarston Church,” Chas said. “Well, the woods and cemetery behind the church.”
“And then what happened, boy? Spit it out!” Beckett’s patience had clearly run out.
Chas startled then spoke rapidly. “We got to telling scary stories and sort of freaked everyone out.”
Morgan groaned. “Let me guess. Black Shuck?”
Chas nodded.
“What’s that?” Crowley asked.
Morgan looked at him, a half smile tugging one side of her mouth. “I wouldn’t expect an outsider to know. Black Shuck is a devil dog that reputedly haunts the region. There are a lot of stories going around, in a few places in Suffolk. All of them nonsense, of course.”
Crowley nodded. He had heard some of the legends in the few short months he’d been at Scarsdell, but didn’t admit as much. Let Morgan have her moment. Instead, he turned back to the students. “What happened next?”
“After Marcus spooked us, we heard something creeping up through the trees, then growling, then we saw a flash of red eyes,” Chas said.
“Oh, come on!” Crowley said. “And you thought it was Black Shuck?”
“It was something!” Emma said, face defiant. “I heard it first, then everyone else did too, then it burst from the trees! It was a huge black dog.”
“You’re winding us up,” Morgan said. “You expect us to believe you actually saw it? What is it you’re trying to cover up?”
“Nothing!” all three said in unison.
“Honestly,” Chas said. “That’s what happened. It was big and had this shaggy fur and–”
“I thought it had shorter fur,” Nats said. “But it definitely had red eyes.”
“Or sort of orangey-colored,” Emma added.
“You can’t even agree on what you saw!” Morgan said, exasperated.
“We can agree that we all saw it,” Chas said. “And we ran, in a panic, but we got separated. Tommy said to run for the church lane, but there was undergrowth and trees and stuff. We kind of split up, and Tommy was still running the other way and the huge dog went after him! We three met at the academy wall, where we always climb over, and we waited. But Tommy never came back.” Chas looked away, guilt and concern written across his face.
Crowley frowned. He wasn’t sure what had really happened, but he felt like Chas believed the story he was telling.
“Mr. Crowley,” the headmaster said. “I hate to ask, but would you please go out and look for Tommy?”
Crowley looked at Beckett in surprise. “I could, but why not call the police? Isn’t this a little serious?”
Beckett flashed a knowing smile. “The boy is probably just lost in the woods, spooked and panicking. No need to notify the police and stir up trouble.”
And risk harm to the school’s reputation, Crowley thought, but kept that to himself.
“Also,” Beckett added, “Tommy’s father is an old school chum and one of our most important benefactors. If we can avoid involving the police with his family, that would be better for all.” He turned to the three contrite teenagers. “As for you lot, straight back to your beds this instant. You are to report to my office directly after breakfast where you will receive your punishment for breaking quite a few school rules.”
The three grimaced, but were wise enough to nod and keep their silence. They filed out, Bradley Davenport following after a brisk nod from Beckett.
“I’ll get a torch and drive around to Church Lane,” Crowley said.
“I’m going with you,” Beth said, eyes daring him to contradict her.
He smiled. “It’s fine, Beth. I’ve got this.”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “Do you even know where the church is, Mr. Crowley?”
Crowley sighed. He sort of knew, but in the dark, perhaps he wouldn’t find it so easily. And time was of the essence, in case the boy was hurt. “Fine. But I’ll drive.”