Free Sanctum by Madeleine Roux Page A

mentioned wanting to major in psych—you analyzing me now?”
    “Sorry, I guess I’m being pushy,” Dan replied, a little sheepish. “Social stuff isn’t my strong suit.”
    “Don’t worry, Dan, I was kidding. ’Sides, you seem social enough. I don’t think I talked to anyone I didn’t have to the first week I was here.” Micah sat down at his desk, watching as Dan circled back to the window and the air mattress. “I’d spent some time in juvie for stealing, and I straightened myself out after that. My uncle went to NHC, and it was his big idea to get me to work hard and apply. No tearful good-byes with family; nobody really gave a damn that I was going except my uncle. Cal was one of the first people to pull me out of my shell. Guess that’s why we’re still buddies, even if he can be an asshole.”
    Juvie? That gave Dan pause, not because he was judging, but because he felt some newfound respect at the way Micah had been able to turn his life around after something like that.
    Dan moved to look out the window. Through the mist rising between buildings, he could make out another window across the way, where the rough shape of a human being watched back. Squinting, Dan leaned in closer to the glass and then felt a cold finger trace up his spine; Doug, poor Doug , was staring back at him.
    “What the hell . . . ,” he murmured. “Is that—what building is that?”
    Micah joined him at the window, bounding there in two big steps. “Oh, Goddamn it. That’s the health center. You’d think they woulda had that kid out of here by now.”
    Dan couldn’t look away, not when he could tell, even from this distance, that Doug was shouting “DANIEL CRAWFORD” at the window. Someone appeared over Doug’s shoulder then and dragged him away. The last thing Dan saw of him were pale fingers knotted into claws, pawing at the foggy glass.
    “You okay?”
    Dan nodded. He leaned onto the dresser pushed under the window, then straightened his elbows and stood up tall. A little disoriented, he wavered, grabbing the dresser again and knocking over a candle. He steadied it, turning it over in his hand. It was red wax and half-melted, but what was left of it looked like the base of a crimson skull.
    When he refocused his eyes he could see his own frightened reflection in the glass.
    “Fine. Yeah . . . Fine.”
    “Have you thought about what classes you want to sit in on? A few professors are having special sessions over the weekend so you guys can check out what kind of discussion and workload you can expect.”
    Only half listening, Dan felt his head go up and down, up and down. Nod . . . Nod . . . The fear inside him transforming, slowly, but transforming nonetheless.
    “Yeah,” he said, setting his jaw. “Didn’t you say that this Professor Reyes was teaching a seminar? That’s the one I want to see.”

Chapter 11
     
    “R unning late,” the text message from Jordan read, “be @ dinner in 5.”
    Dan sat alone at one of the long, glistening cafeteria tables, Felix’s photo tucked surreptitiously in the shadow of his tray. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Abby, who was just now hovering at the cereal dispenser, tapping her forefinger on her lower lip while she decided between Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Corn Pops. It was cute the way she felt comfortable eating breakfast for dinner, even tonight, when other high schoolers might be more concerned with impressing the college students.
    Dan heard a soft voice behind him, and he might have thought it was Abby’s if he wasn’t still looking right at her. But the voice, he realized, couldn’t be hers anyway. It was too low, too breathy, too monotone.
    “Daniel, Daniel, come out and play. . . .” It was like a song, a child’s rhyme. “Come out and play, won’t you come out to play, Daniel, Daniel. . . .”
    He twisted, fast, following the sound of the voice, an angry shout dying in the back of his throat. Tucked in the corner, hidden from