“SERIOUSLY. SEND ME a bill for the damages. Our team will be happy to compensate you for—”
“Ms. Tanaka. Please.”
Gloria Glennon, Morgan College’s honorable provost, held up a hand. Unlike the redhead tornado from the reception, she had a stern, placid air about her. Her gray-streaked hair was pulled back into a perfect bun—not too messy, not too severe—and her face was an implacable mask, revealing nothing. She’d worked in the graduate admissions office when I’d been a student, and I’d always found her stoic demeanor somewhat unnerving. When I have no idea how someone’s feeling about something, I tend to yammer, which is what I was doing now. I just couldn’t believe I’d barely been back on campus an hour and I’d already caused major damage to yet another building.
I also couldn’t get that scared girl’s face out of my head.
Don’t trust them.
She’d been talking about the college—but why? What was she so afraid of? And why had she said my name like it was the answer to a complicated math problem?
“You were obviously protecting one of our students from harm,” Provost Glennon continued, her voice smooth. “I’m sure we can deal with the damage. Although it might take us a couple semesters to get there—our budget has been tight in recent years.”
We were sitting in the campus security office, which wasn’t the provost’s usual domain. Unlike the rest of Morgan, this space had no sense of history or atmosphere—it was a blah beige box with a desk and a few plastic chairs in a squat building tucked away in one of the distant corners of campus.
“The student was still unconscious when the paramedics took her to the hospital,” Provost Glennon continued, “but I’m sure she’ll corroborate that whenever she wakes up.”
“Wait—she didn’t wake up? She had to go to the hospital?” I frowned. Chaos had erupted even further after Aveda burst into the theater. We’d summoned campus security and they’d taken the girl to the on-campus clinic and swept Aveda and me off to the security office to debrief. But I’d assumed the girl had woken up. “What’s her name?” I said. “And is she going to be okay? Can we talk to her?”
“Her name is Julie Vũ,” Provost Glennon said, giving me a chilly smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “She’s a junior, and it sounds like she’ll be fine, but she’s obviously had a nasty shock. Our on-campus clinic isn’t really equipped to deal with any possible tests she might need, so we sent her to the hospital—”
“What hospital?” I interrupted. “I’d really like to see her.”
“I’m not sure. It would be whatever preferred facility she listed on her student intake form,” Provost Glennon said. She gave me another slight almost-smile. Somehow, even the smallest of expressions looked wrong on her face. I couldn’t help but feel that she was being weirdly calm about the fact that Julie had to be taken to the hospital. Maybe I was just on high alert because Julie had told me not to trust “them.” Was Provost Glennon included in “them”? Was there a reason she didn’t want me to talk to Julie?
At the moment, I didn’t have answers to any of these questions, so I just had to feel out the situation. I’d described the basics of the incident to Provost Glennon, but I had tried not to reveal too many details—like what Julie had said to me right before she passed out.
“I’m curious, ma’am,” Aveda said, “has this sort of thing happened before? Usually, demonic activity tends to be confined to San Francisco. Although we’ve had a few East Bay oddities recently, which we’d love to gather more data on. Perhaps you can help us.”
“Mmm.” Provost Glennon nodded—though it didn’t quite seem to be a nod of agreement. “As you’ve probably heard—especially since Ms. Tanaka used to be a student here—the college is known for its rather colorful paranormal goings-on. Or at least what have been characterized as paranormal goings-on.”
“Evie told me that some parts of campus are considered haunted,” Aveda said briskly. “Though I must say, none of that has ever been officially reported to us, or we would have been out here right away—”
“These so-called hauntings have always been taken with a grain of salt,” Provost Glennon said, holding up a hand to stop Aveda before she could really get into our heroing service record. “We always chalked it up to the fanciful imaginings of our students. Who are, after all, often operating on not very much sleep.”
“That’s what I said,” Aveda muttered, nudging me in the ribs.
“The stories of ghosts in various locations around campus have always given us a bit of a charming mystique,” Provost Glennon continued. “And more importantly, no one has ever been harmed during an encounter with one of these so-called ghosts. No property has been damaged, either, so if spirits do exist and they’re choosing to exist here, well . . .” She shrugged, her perfect bun twitching. “They didn’t seem to have bad intentions.” She paused, took off her glasses, and used the bottom of her shirt to polish them, considering her next words very carefully. “Until now.”
Aveda’s eyebrows shot up. “Meaning . . . ?”
Provost Glennon let out a long, weary sigh and put her glasses back on. “The last few times students have reported these, ah, sightings . . . well. There has been damage. To people and property.”
“Were the police notified?” Aveda was sitting up straight in her seat now, studying Provost Glennon keenly. Probably trying to suss out if she had a real problem worthy of our time or if she was just trying to get San Francisco’s premier superheroines to pay attention to her. “How many times has this happened?”
“Only two individuals have officially reported incidents—but there have been rumblings from many students over the past few months,” Provost Glennon said. “Campus security was alerted, and at first, it didn’t seem like a major issue. We always have a lot more sightings in the weeks leading up to Halloween, that’s just the way it is. The students reporting these sightings—and the ones who have merely gossiped about their own encounters—sustained minor injuries. Cuts and bruises, things like that. But as far as I’m aware, no one had to go to the hospital until tonight.”
“So now you’re thinking . . . what, the hauntings have become real, somehow?” I asked.
Julie said we had to “stop them all.” Did she mean all the ghosts? That were suddenly fucking Morgan up more than usual? But . . . no. She’d gotten upset when I’d mentioned “college authorities.” Who, as far as I knew, were still very real, very alive people.
Provost Glennon studied me for a moment, sizing me up. I squirmed, feeling like I was a grad student on my first day all over again, desperately wanting to impress her and somehow hide the fact that I actually didn’t know what I was doing and even though I kept saying yes, I could absolutely commit my entire life to the program . . . that actually wasn’t true. I had rent to pay and a surly, grieving tween to take care of and feed, and then there were all those pesky emotions I was most definitely not dealing with . . .
“We’re not sure what to think,” Provost Glennon finally said, blinking at me through her glasses. “You mentioned that there’s been recent demonic activity in the East Bay, Ms. Jupiter—perhaps it has something to do with that. But I’m afraid when it comes to anything supernatural . . .” She shook her head, her frown deepening. “Campus security obviously hasn’t been trained to deal with that. Whatever’s behind this, the incidents have been escalating. And while the abstract idea of ghosts is charming and entertaining, actual injured students and damaged property are not. At minimum, it’s disruptive. In the worst-case scenario, well . . .” Her expression turned grim. “We’ve been struggling to keep our heads above water the last few years.”
“You mentioned the budget being tight,” I said. “Is that a recent development? Morgan seemed so well-funded when I went here.”
“It was,” Provost Glennon said. “I fear we’ve had some growing pains. As you may know, Ms. Tanaka, when Morgan first opened in the 1870s, it was considered more of a finishing school for proper young ladies—and it was still tied to San Francisco College, sort of a little sister school. You may have even referred to it that way when you were here. It wasn’t until much later that we developed our own identity as an empowering bastion of feminism, a place where young women could find their voices. These days . . .” She gave an elegant shrug. “We’re perceived as being an uncomfortable mix of the two, and that means we’re not necessarily the first choice for progressives or the finishing school set. Enrollment’s down, and we’ve been kept alive by our most generous donors—who want to believe their money is going toward a reputable and secure institution of higher learning. They would naturally be put off if we start getting a reputation for being a place where dangerous things happen and students are always getting hurt. In fact, we had an issue with several of them when the library burned down—it took at least three years to recover from that and get our donations back to where they need to be.”
I made my face as neutral as possible. No one outside of Team Tanaka/Jupiter had ever found out that I was, in fact, responsible for the library. And sweating underneath Provost Glennon’s piercing gaze made me want to keep that secret inside forever.
“And if these incidents keep escalating,” Provost Glennon continued, “I can’t imagine that will be appealing to prospective students, either—or their parents. We’re really trying to grow enrollment, develop a modern brand, and become the thriving institution we are meant to be. And I don’t want anything to get in the way of that.” Her face hardened a bit.
“Provost Glennon, I think I see where you’re going with this,” Aveda said, giving her the assured smile of a veteran superheroine. “This growing threat is obviously something that needs to be investigated—never fear, we can help. Evie and I would be happy to connect you with Sergeant Rose Rorick’s Demon Unit—it’s part of SFPD? You can make an official report to them and Rose will get started on the investigation. Er, her second in command will, I suppose, since Rose is currently on her honeymoon. But her department has all kinds of scanner tools that can help determine exactly what you’re dealing with here, if it’s a bona fide supernatural threat—”
“Police?” Provost Glennon’s brow crinkled ever so slightly. “Oh, no, I don’t think so. I need someone with more of a personal touch, someone who can be discreet. A very public investigation will only disrupt life on campus and put us in the exact position I’m hoping to avoid.”
Aveda gave me a sidelong look, but my brain was already whirling. Something wasn’t right here. Why hadn’t anyone beyond campus security been notified after the very first possibly supernatural incident where a student had gotten hurt? And why did Provost Glennon’s main concern seem to be avoiding a scandal rather than protecting her students?
“I’m hoping to employ the very best,” Provost Glennon said, looking at us meaningfully.
“We are . . . that,” Aveda responded hesitantly.
Julie’s voice floated through my head again: Don’t trust them.
“Before we agree to anything, I’d really like to get the information about Julie Vũ’s hospital,” I said. “When do you think we can talk to her?”
“I can’t say for certain,” Provost Glennon said, shuffling through the reports on the campus security desk. “But to be honest, it is unlikely she’ll able to provide you with much more useful information, since you were there this time, Ms. Tanaka. You saw it all.”
“Mmm,” I said, my tone noncommittal. “What can you tell me about her? Our interaction was brief.”
“There’s not much to tell,” Provost Glennon said, scanning one of the reports—and avoiding meeting my eyes. “She doesn’t live on campus, so I’m afraid I haven’t spoken with her much. I don’t think that’s relevant to your investigation, anyway.”
I frowned. Yeah, something really wasn’t right here. Provost Glennon was being way too cagey, trying to steer me away from what should have been fairly innocuous information. And I couldn’t get Julie’s terrified eyes out of my head. That exhausted, desperate face reminded me so much of my own when I’d been a student here.
I can’t die. My sister . . . she needs me.
That could have been me saying those words back then. I’d also been trying to stay alive, to survive . . . and my sister had needed me, too.
And let’s not forget that Julie had said my name, that she’d looked at me so strangely . . .
“I’m not sure if we’re what you want, Provost Glennon,” Aveda said. “We’re two of the most famous people in the city. Not exactly discreet. If anyone finds out Evie and I are investigating a possibly haunted women’s college, well . . . it’s only a matter of time before our fans and the usual paparazzi show up. And we’re under extra scrutiny now, thanks to Evie’s pregnancy. The story will be sensationalized beyond measure, and then your donors will be really unhappy. But if you start with the police—”
“No,” I interrupted.
“Um, what?” Aveda said, turning to me.
I met her eyes. I couldn’t explain it. I just knew I had to help Julie Vũ. I had to find out what the hell was going on here, and I had to fix it.
If Provost Glennon wasn’t going to protect her students, I would.
“This is too important,” I continued, my voice getting stronger with every word. “We can’t just pass it off to the police to handle.”
“Okay,” Aveda said slowly. She looked uneasy, trepidatious. I couldn’t help but think maybe I had a version of her Idea Face on—and she was finally seeing why it made me so nervous.
I’d have to fill her in later. I couldn’t reveal everything in front of Provost Glennon—and I was going to have to be extra careful about anything I said to people who worked for the college.
Don’t trust them, that was what Julie Vũ had asked me to do.
“I’m thinking that there are only two people in the world who can handle this particular . . . thing that’s going on,” I said, injecting as much bravado as I could muster into my voice. “And I think I have an idea for how we can be discreet about it. We have to help these kids, Aveda.”
“Oh, no,” Aveda said. “I feel both proud of you and scared of you, because are you about to say—”
“Yes,” I said, nodding firmly. “Team Tanaka/Jupiter is gonna go undercover and catch ourselves some ghosts.”