“I need the archives.”
“Easy enough. Just put in a request with the school.”
She turned toward the passageway out of the theatre, but I stepped in her way.
“You know they won’t grant it, Biba. My access is nil since everything went down last year. They wouldn’t let me within a hundred yards of Stormcloud documents.”
“Maybe that’s for the best,” she said without emotion. “Maybe we shouldn’t have been looking into the past in the first place.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“I didn’t, but I’m beginning to change my opinions. I’d rather be alive, Theo.”
To a certain extent, I understood. First her parents, then Gail—Biba had plenty of death in her life already. She didn’t want to send anyone else over the cliff. But I still had to try.
“One hour, tonight,” I pressed her. “After that, I will never ask again. If I find nothing up there, that will be the end of my investigation. I’ll move on—from you and from the past. But I need a shot at figuring out why we were all brought to Stormcloud at the same time.”
Biba scrunched her nose and bit her lower lip. This request was unwelcome, but a second later, her face softened. I had somehow broken through.
Biba did not want to be seen with me, so she unlocked to door to Amelia’s office at midnight and walked away.
I’d promised not to arrive until 12:10.
She had warned me that the place was a trainwreck and had no electric lighting. I grabbed the steel flashlight I’d used all summer on the island. I mounted the stone spiral stairs and shifted the beam left to right and back again. I wanted a full accounting of what lay before me. If someone were waiting in ambush, I’d see them before they leaped.
Biba hadn’t undersold it: Stormcloud’s archives were a nightmare. Stacks of ancient parchment and crates of files and photos and annuals, some labeled, some not. There was no discernible organizational system, and it was pitch black. I was an idiot to think I could have this wrapped up in an hour.
One counter held a pile of banker’s boxes, most of which were labeled “Student Files.” A student file might be the best option if I wanted to get quick summary info on the prior generation of Kings. I grabbed the nearest box and started searching. To my amazement, the files inside had dates. Unfortunately, the first few boxes were from the nineties, so I pulled more.
Biba and Gail—their fathers were at the school sometime in the mid-1980s, at the same time as Zephyr’s pop. That was the era I needed.
At last, I unearthed a box from ‘84–’85. I started pulling files, but I saw I was up against a brick wall right away. Hurley, Williams, Stamos—they were all MIA. It shouldn’t have surprised me that some of the world’s most powerful families would want their records purged. They were probably locked up in a safe in Dean Schmidt’s office.
Nevermind that. I finally located something of value. Monfort, Douglas.
The file was a brown folder stuffed with yellowing papers. Much of it was basic information: family background, medical details, grades. I needed to find something about Gail’s father’s connection to the Kings and to Biba’s dad. I needed something to explain why his daughter and Biba were brought back all these years later.
Then I noticed a footnote on Montfort’s disciplinary record.
Co-signatory on the witness statement of R. Scamarcio. Provided evidence in the inquiry of E.V. disappearance.
What in the hell did that mean?
“Theo?” I heard Biba’s annoyed shout from the stairs. “Are you still in here?”
It was half-past four in the morning. I’d overstayed my welcome by several hours. I’d also somehow made the Stormcloud archives even more of a disaster zone. But in the process, I’d found what I needed—or at least the start of it.
“Biba,” I called down the stairs, “get up here.”
“No, you come down here.”
“I’m serious. We need to talk.”
As soon as she stomped upstairs in sweats and sneakers, her shiny blonde hair bunched up with a scrunchie, I could tell she wanted me out. Too bad—I needed to brief her.
“I found it,” I said. “I found the smoking gun.”
“We need to leave, Theo. It’s a miracle no one’s discovered you up here. Amelia will be back on campus soon—”