Wraith Novels Books 1 - 3 (Ebook)

The cold wind rips through my blazer as I hurry across campus. Winter this year feels more hellish than usual. Maybe it’s the thought of having to go before the Society or my meeting with the Dean, Jonathan Stonewall.
With a sigh, I take the steps two at a time to enter the main building. As I close the door, the heavens open up, and rain splatters against the windows. I stare at it for a moment, annoyed that I don’t have an umbrella or any kind of protection from the probably freezing droplets. Sneering at the sky, I turn toward the reception desk and see Ms. Brown studying me. She’s Dean Stonewall’s personal assistant, but I like to think of her as his private bulldog. No one gets past her unless they have an appointment. She smiles at me, and I smile in return, but it’s all fake. Ms. Brown is as likable as a rabid dog.
“Ahh, Mr. Bartlett, Dean Stonewall is expecting you. Please go on up.”
I say nothing to her, merely tip my head in acknowledgment and take the stairs. The elevator is at the end of the hall, but I need the extra time to calm my nerves, and the exercise will do me good. At this time of day, there are few students or faculty members in the main building, and I’m sure the miserable day will keep some away. It’s eerie how quiet it feels. The only noise is my breathing and footsteps. The dean’s office is on the third floor with only a storage level above.
Standing outside his door, I push my brown hair out of my eyes, slow my breathing, then rap my knuckles on the wooden surface. The dean makes me wait a full ten seconds.
“Come.”
Sucking in a breath, I plaster a smile on my face and open the door. Dean Stonewall is sitting behind his desk, fingers steepled together, leaning back in his chair, watching like a predator stalks its prey.
“Mr. Bartlett, please take a seat.” He sits forward, hands now clasped together on the desktop.
Holding out my hand to him, he stares at it for a moment, then his gaze meets mine. “Take a seat, Simon.”
Tilting my head to the side, I retract my hand and sit. I’ve worked hard these past twelve months to win back his and the Society’s trust, but clearly not hard enough. Mimicking his posture, I clasp my hands together and stare at him. It’s an old trick—he who talks first loses—and I fully intend to let Dean Stonewall win. He’s a powerful man with money and influence, whereas I’m only just starting out. I need his approval, or at the very least, the appearance that I do.
Shifting in my seat, I smile. “It’s started to pour outside. Looks like it’s going to be a miserable day.”
Dean Stonewall chuckles. “The weather? We’re reduced to such mundane conversation already. Really, Simon?”
Pursing my lips together, I stare him in the eyes. “What can I do for you, Dean?”
He points at me, wagging his finger, and chuckles again. “That’s more like it.” Twisting in his chair, he stands and walks toward the enormous window overlooking the campus. His hands are in his pockets, and he rocks back on his heels. “Do you have a way of contacting Ann or her father?”
I shake my head, but he’s not looking at me, so I clear my throat. “Not Ann.”
“But her father?” He doesn’t turn, his head slightly tilted up as he looks at the rain pelting against the windows.
Standing, I straighten my jacket and nod. “Maybe.”
Slowly, Dean Stonewall turns to face me. “Maybe?”
“I think he keeps track of me.”
He nods and places one arm across his stomach, tapping his chin with the other hand. “Hmm… I need you to get him to come to you.”
“Why? I thought he was a no issue.”
“He knows far too much about us.”
The dean eyes me like I’m a bug about to be squashed. “Can you do it?”
“Like I said, maybe. If he makes contact, what do you want me to tell him?”
Casually, he places both hands back in his pockets and grins at me. “Oh, Simon, I don’t want you to tell him anything. I want you to kill him.”