Page 148 of Winterveil

Rural Virginia

Above the blue haze of the mountains, dawn came in soft pinks and limpid golds. The roads were quiet and empty, narrowing as they climbed farther up the peaks.

Julian had just crossed the Virginia state line when the burning in his eyes became unbearable. He had been driving for nine straight hours and his contact lenses were so dry that they felt like chips of glass. Through the haze of exhaustion he saw a sign for a rest stop and pulled over, parking against the curb of an abandoned-looking gas station.

There, he reached into the glove compartment and took out his spare pair of glasses. He removed his contacts, wincing. Then he put his glasses on and blinked to dampen his eyes, the world coming into focus again. Green shoots climbed between the cracks in the asphalt, vines repossessing the rusted gas pumps.

But the mart attached to the gas station turned out not to be abandoned after all. Julian stumbled inside, squinting at the sudden brightness. Not trusting the stale pastries or the sausages in blistering vats of grease, Julian bought himself a Styrofoam cup of coffee, black. It burned his tongue when he sipped it.

The cashier seemed as surprised to see him as he was to have ended up there. When he handed her his Amex, she frowned.

“Never seen a card like that before,” she said. “Just passing through?”

“No,” Julian said. “Not really.” He removed a twenty from his wallet and laid it on the counter instead. “Keep the change.”

Julian returned to his car and sat for a moment, savoring the warmth of the coffee if not its taste. When he looked into the rearview mirror, he saw a pale face with dark circles beneath bloodshot eyes. He angled the mirror away. Checking the GPS on Landon’s phone revealed that Valeran was less than an hour away.

He set the coffee in the cupholder and turned back onto the highway.

As he made his way up the mountains, his Porsche began to struggle with the sharp incline of the road. The engine spluttered and the wheels disturbed the dust, making it rise in clouds that partially obscured his view. But without hesitation, Julian drove on.

He had just managed to glimpse the dome of the amphitheater in the distance when a guard stepped out into the road. Julian barely had time to brake and cut the engine before two more guards swarmed the car, their guns drawn.

“Get out,” ordered one of them. “With your hands up.”

Julian was becoming far too accustomed to having guns pointed at him. It was not exactly a form of character development he found inspiring. He turned off the car and stepped out slowly, arms raised over his head.

“What are you doing here?” another guard barked.

“Re-enrolling,” Julian said.

The guards glanced at one another, expressions ones of consternation. “That’s not allowed,” the first one said, though he sounded uncertain. Julian imagined they didn’t often see students trying to break into Valeran.

Careful to keep his hands within sight, Julian removed his watch and held it out to the nearest guard. “Here. You can have it. Just let me speak to Dr. Iver.”

The guard frowned. Julian also imagined they weren’t used to being bribed.

“This isn’t a pawnshop,” the guard said.

“No shit. Take it to an actual pawnshop. It’s a vintage Rolex. It’s worth at least fifty K.” Julian glanced over his shoulder. “You can have the car, too.”

Relieved of his watch and his car keys, Julian was escorted back through Valeran’s gates. There was another hour before the start of classes, but some students were milling around the lawn. When they saw him, they stared unabashedly, mouths open in silent shock. Julian searched their faces but didn’t find Jane or Mikhail among them.

Or Klaudia.

The guards deposited him outside Dr. Iver’s office. Julian waited anxiously as one guard entered, closing the door behind him. Strains of muffled conversation came through the wood, but Julian couldn’t make out any words.

When the guard emerged again, he looked vaguely chastened. “Go ahead.”

Julian’s pulse spiked. He pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Dr. Iver was standing behind his desk, staring idly down at a stack of papers but clearly not reading them. When Julian entered, he looked up and said, “Mr. Joyce-Young. What an unexpected pleasure.”

Julian strode forward and slammed his palms flat on the desk. “Where is she?”

“Who?”

“Klaudia.”