K-Hoes

Rotten secrets

Principal Chandler leaned forward over her heavy mahogany desk, pressing her index fingers together until her knuckles turned white.

"Was Charles a necromancer?" she whispered to the empty room. "No, no, no... he couldn't have been."

She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floorboards as she began to pace. She looked up at the ceiling, her chest heaving with a deep sigh. "Why didn't I put surveillance in our offices? What am I going to say to his family?"

Panic gripped her. She wrung her hands, trying to rationalize the nightmare. "But necromancy isn't a thing anymore. Every last one of them was murdered all over the world. It was banned." She stared out the window, fear tightening her features. "Who is the necromancer here?

"Outside, the sharp, mechanical shrill of the school bell cut through the quiet afternoon."See you later, Arlo," Jude said, waving as the crowd of students filtered into the hallways, heading toward their separate classes.

Before the students could even settle into their desks, the bell rang again—a long, continuous alarm.

An emergency assembly. Whispers broke out instantly. The student body murmured in confusion as they were ushered toward the main hall. An assembly out of nowhere was unheard of; they were strictly a monthly occurrence.

At the podium, Principal Chandler stood rigid. She offered a brief, tense salutation to the school before dropping the bombshell: Professor Charles was dead. She gave no explanation, no details, leaving the room in a stunned, heavy silence. Shock rippled through the rows of students.

At the back of the crowd, Bobby and Greer slipped in late. Spotting Cleo in the sea of faces, Bobby squeezed through and touched her shoulder warmly.

"Hi, what's going on?" Bobby asked in a low voice.

"Your professor died," Cleo replied flatly.

Bobby and Greer froze.

"I barely got to know him," Bobby murmured, a strange blankness crossing her mind. She truly could not remember the details of the previous days. "Anyway, RIP mister. I bet you were a great professor." She quietly made the sign of the cross from her head to her chest.

Up at the microphone, Chandler announced that classes would be canceled for a full week. The faculty needed time to travel, visit the family, and pay their respects at the burial.

"Great! We could go painting together, orrr cooking!" Greer whispered, turning to Bobby with a wide, bright smile. Bobby smiled back, the heavy atmosphere instantly forgotten in the excitement of a free week.

"Somebody just died."

The cold voice cut through their chatter. Standing right beside them was Anna. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face pale and twisted with grief. Looking at her closely, she carried an undeniable resemblance to Professor Charles—a nod to the unconfirmed rumors that had circulated the campus for months.

Distressed by her tears, Bobby reached out to offer a comforting hug, but Anna stepped back, rejecting her with a spiteful glare.

Before another word could be said, the assembly was dismissed. Around them, the initial shock faded into hushed excitement. Most of the students were thrilled about a sudden vacation. After all, people die every day, but a free week was rare.

Seeing the callous joy of her peers, Anna burst into fresh tears and hurried away from the crowd.

Bobby, Greer, and Cleo watched her go.

"Maybe he's her dad," Greer suggested softly, feeling a pang of guilt.

Cleo didn't answer. Her expression shifted, and she suddenly began walking away so fast that the other two couldn't keep up.

"Did his death upset Cleo too?" Greer asked, watching her disappear down the hall. They stood there in the emptying corridor for a moment before turning to head to their dorms.

As Cleo walked, a single tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. She wiped it away furiously, keeping her eyes scanning the hallways for Anna. Professor Charles hadn't just been her Fine Arts lecturer; he was her uncle.

She finally found Anna in her dorm room, curled into a tight ball in the corner, sobbing violently. Cleo closed the door and stood there for a long moment, helpless. Taking a slow step forward, she reached down and touched Anna’s shoulder softly. Anna looked up, her face streaked with tears, and threw herself into Cleo's arms, crying even harder.

A sharp knock at the door broke the heavy silence.

Cleo opened it to find Principal Chandler’s secretary standing in the breathy hallway. He looked relieved to see them both in one place. "I was sent to find you," he said gently. "You need to pack your things. A car is coming to pick you up to take you home. As family members of the deceased, you're expected."

An hour later, a black car pulled up to the campus gates. Students watched from the windows as Anna and Cleo walked out. They saw the heartbreaking sight of Anna collapsing into her mother's arms as she got into the vehicle, both of them weeping.

From a distance, Greer and Bobby watched the car pull away.

"Why's Cleo going with them?" Greer asked, brow furrowed."I don't know, maybe they're best friends," Bobby replied. "We've seen them together sometimes, and she's joined us a few times for lunch." Bobby shook off the sadness, turning back to her friend. "So... let's go cooking? Or painting?"

Excitement returning, the two girls headed off to enjoy their unexpected break.

Back in the main administration building, the atmosphere was entirely different.

"There's a Necromancer in my school!" Chandler paced her office like a caged animal. She finally dropped into her chair, but her leg kept shaking restlessly against the desk.

"We can't be so sure, ma'am," her secretary tried to soothe her, setting a stack of files down. "We don't know what killed him yet."

"But his flesh..." Chandler slammed her hands on the desk, her voice dropping to a panicked whisper. "It was already rotting. He looked like he had been dead for days, yet he reported to classes! He was sitting right here with us, drinking tea early that morning!" She ran her fingers through her hair, tearing at the roots.

The secretary frowned, studying her extreme reaction. "Why are you stressed so much about this?"

Chandler caught herself. She forced her hands down, smoothed her posture, and looked up at him with cold, hard eyes. "I'm not. Get me some milk."

"Yes, ma'am."

As the door clicked shut behind him, Chandler leaned back, her voice barely a breath. "If they come here, it's over."

The next morning, the quiet campus was filled with the sound of drilling and running wires. Electricians were everywhere, mounting black surveillance cameras in every single corner of the school.