Reentering at the auditorium, we descended to a secret corridor, then down a spiral stairway and out the secret door to the hall. We were a few steps from Amelia’s office.
As we rounded the corner, we walked right into two half-naked zombies. The girl was wearing a pair of boyshorts and an open-but-strategically-taped satin robe. The guy was in some kind of leather jockstrap and black mesh tank. But what struck me—what stopped me in my tracks—was the gallon or so of deep red blood they had dripping from their hairlines, down their faces, and all over their bare bodies.
They looked like walking car crash victims. I nearly screamed when we saw them, but instead, I just froze in place as they passed us, laughing drunkenly.
I couldn’t seem to start walking again. There was a strange emptiness in my stomach. I wondered for a moment if I had too much liquor inside me, but that wasn’t it. I realized that once we talked to Amelia, nothing would be quite the same. Not for any of us.
It was worth it, of course, for Theo to know who his mother was. And we would soon know all the gory details from three and a half decades ago, the treachery that echoed through to the present. The reason behind the deaths we had endured.
But I was still worried. I didn’t know how Theo would react. Or Amelia. Or myself, for that matter.
To my surprise, Theo took my hand. I looked up at him.
“You okay?” he asked sincerely.
“I think.”
“Let’s go, okay. We’ll do this together.”
I wanted to shout at him that he had no idea of the secrets that were coming. He couldn’t begin to prepare himself. But I held my tongue. The truth would be out, soon.
Amelia waited for us outside her door.
“Right on time,” she said. “You were my most punctual assistant, Miss Quinn.”
“I do my best,” I answered weakly.
“And Theo, I’m most pleased that you came. Most pleased.”
“Thank you for helping us.”
Hold your tongue, Biba, I warned myself. Soon enough. Theo will understand everything soon enough.
Without another word, Amelia opened her door and led us in. I started walking to her desk. Then I noticed she was moving to a bookshelf at the back wall.
“There are things,” she said to me, “that even you don’t know about this place.”
She pulled a hidden lever by the shelf, and a latch gave way in the wall. It swung out, and we were given access to a circular room on the other side.
Inside was a small standing desk and nothing else. The walls were all stone, and the ceiling was double-height. I realized quickly that we were in a parapet on the outside of the building. There were three tall, narrow windows behind her—Archer windows, for defending the king.
“Shut the door behind you,” she demanded. Theo obliged.
On the desk was a single unmarked envelope. She picked it up and began to address us.
“Mr. Brant . . . Theo. I have committed a certain amount of history to this letter. It is of, shall we shall, particular importance to you. You will read it before leaving.”
She handed the envelope to Theo. He looked perplexed but did not open it. Amelia was already speaking again.
“My name is Simone Agrippel. There are few besides you who know that name. Peter Williams does. A handful of former students at Stormcloud do, but as far as the board of regents and the administrators here are concerned . . . I am Amelia.”
“Why did you change your name?” Theo asked.
She didn’t miss a beat. “For the same reason I did everything in the last twenty years. To protect myself and the people closest to me. I fear I’ve failed many times.”
“What does that mean?” he pressed.
Amelia put a hand on his bicep and squeezed it gently. She was smiling.