Summary: With the mysterious disappearance of her older brother haunting her past, Mare enrolls in Archeon Academy under the guise of starting anew to dig for answers that lie within its walls, or rather the people there. Namely the rich and practically untouchable Samos’s and Calores. But what Mare thought would be a simple case turns out to be deeper and darker then she could ever imagine. When she uncovers a string of disappearances all possibly related, Mare falls even deeper into a sticky web of deceit and violence that goes back decades.
Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
Standing in front the imposing glass doors was one thing while dreaming of it was another. It felt like a mouth ready to swallow me whole.
The structure itself was odd. The main building was an old large manor, or castle rather that had been built centuries ago while adjoining sectors had been built branching off in different directions. It was a great monstrosity of stone, marble and steel with chips of dyed glass reflecting light like a jewel. I nervously smooth down my skirt once more and brace myself for the next step. And the next. There was no going back after this. One mistake, if anyone were to find out who I was…it would be over.
My blouse itched uncomfortably and I resist the urge to adjust the collar again. Another con to a private school. The unfortunate dress codes. I thought mournfully of my leather jacket, a gift from my crew sitting on my bed. If they could see me now, they would laugh their heads off, especially Kilorn. Farley would understand though. Why I had to do this.
The main office was large with two plush couches to the sides. A few students lounge on them, phones in hand. They don’t even bother to look up as I breeze in. Good. The less people that looked the easier this would be. Across the marble countertop, a lady with a severe bun pinned on her head and a stiff posture peered down at me. Everything about her was grey. Her dress suit to her hair. Even her wire-rimmed glasses. Fitting I think as I glance at her nametag. Janet Grey, it read.
“Um, yes,” I stutter. “I’m new here?” The words sound uncertain.
The lady doesn’t seem to notice or care. “Name?”
This was the tricky part. I lean in close, lest someone hear. “Mare Barrow,” I whisper. I held my breath and watched for any tick of recognition across her lined face. Nothing. She squints at the computer and I squirm as the seconds drag on. Finally she smiles. “Ah, yes, Ms. Barrow. Here is your ID card that is expected to be worn at all times and your timetable,” she says as she shoves the items towards me. An ID card? Really? As if my face weren’t identification enough.
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