Page 20 of Divine Oaths

“It’s true,” Vivian said. “Things started changing after Mr. LBJ. But Westfield University was one of the last of the big universities to admit women after the Ivies did.”

And this was the kind of place where my aunt said I’d be able to build my future. A place that was so stuck in the past, even its informal traditions were catching up to modern times.

“I’ve been to the tour, though,” Vivian continued. “Last year, when Nathan was the resident assistant. He didn’t do that ‘scholarship students are making the heritage of Westfield impure’ shtick that Honey, Joseph, and everyone else here seems to be stuck on. He was the first scholarship student that got to be a resident assistant for Poppy House.”

“What happened to him?” I asked.

Vivian didn’t meet my gaze. She was quiet for a long moment, and then she spoke.

“There was—an accident.”

“An accident?” I repeated.

“At the end of the semester. These buildings are very old, you know. It’s easy to get lost, easy for things to happen.” I stared at her, waiting for her to explain further. But she waved for me to keep walking up the stairs. We turned the corner, up another flight of steps to the fifth floor.

“Anyway,” she continued, “keeping a scholarship at Westfield isn’t easy. A lot of us need to take breaks between semesters to save for what our scholarships don’t cover, like joining Greek life or club dues. And then there’s also the pressure of maintaining grades. Outside of classes, you’ll probably be stuck here or in the libraries, studying to keep up your GPA so they don’t kick you out. No time for wandering around where you’re not wanted.” She gave a little laugh, even though there was an intensity to her words. “And I’ll just say it. I’m glad they’ve improved security on campus. These are old buildings. Plenty of people have died here over the years. What’s the harm in making sure no one’s where they shouldn’t be?”

Prickles of anxiety strung through my nerves.

“Are you saying Nathan died here last year?”

For the first time since we’d met, Vivian looked serious. Gravely so.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about the accidents on campus. All I’m saying is, if you look for trouble, don’t be surprised when you find it.”

Kasem had said this too, back at Gus’s store. But students dying? That was something deeper and twisted, and with my powers unraveling, it made me question if I’d made the right decision coming here instead of leaving Virginia with Louisa.

A sharp pain cut through my forehead. I winced, stopping for a moment so I could collect myself.

Having to keep my powers at bay while holding on to my secondhand luggage and climbing up five flights of stairs wasn’t easy. It meant that half the time I was watching my footsteps, and the other half I was seeing flashbacks in my mind of Louisa digging the suitcase out of her attic.

When we reached a door at the end of a secluded hallway on the fifth floor, I eagerly dropped the suitcase.

Along the ivory-painted walls, old landscape paintings were mounted in gold frames. The hallway was lit by a chandelier made of crystal droplets that shimmered with a soft gold light. A single window took up the end of the hallway. Streaks of sunlight peeked between the falling leaves of a nearby willow tree, beaming into the corridors.

“This is me,” I said. “Dorm 505.”

“Lucky number,” Vivian said quietly. “Listen, if you want some advice for doing well here, keep your head down. Mind your business. And don’t get yourself involved in any of the politics. Okay? I can’t promise that’ll help you graduate, but it’ll at least get you through your first year. Not that it says much, coming from me.”

I pressed my student ID against the key card scanner beneath the doorknob. When I did, a light flashed green, then blue, then white. The door beeped and I pushed it open.

“That should be easy. I hate politics.”

“Oh, you say that now, but talk to me again in a week, after you rush a sorority.”

The two of us stood awkwardly in front of my door. Because my room was at the end of the hallway, all of the footsteps and other voices in the hall were farther away, almost out of reach.

“Fine,” I said, “I won’t rush.” I hadn’t been planning to anyway.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Vivian said. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t join. I’m in a sisterhood myself, you know. And do you know what our motto is?” A small, nearly imperceptible smile formed on her lips. She pressed her thumb against the center of her mouth, and when she spoke, she kept her hand there, unwavering as her lips parted, speaking in another language I didn’t understand.

“Hye wo nhye.”

Her words were barely a whisper, so soft that the voices in the hallway should have drowned them out. And yet, I heard her as clearly as if her lips were mere inches from my ear, as if her voice was projecting from inside my thoughts and echoing from her mouth. I flinched back, and as I tried to collect myself, I realized the language that she’d spoken wasn’t English or Latin.

“Akan?” I asked.

There’d been a familiarity in the tone, a heavy, poetic drawl that brought back childhood memories.