Despite the fact it was a Saturday, Kiel had asked us to meet him at the college. The director didn’t look happy to see us. I chalked that up to the fact he was working on a weekend.

He let us into his office, just like last time, and he motioned for us to sit, just like last time.

“How can I help you, Agent Vasil?” Kiel asked.

“It’s only a matter of a few questions.”

“Then please hurry.”

“First, did Wayde ever mention an Egyptian scroll to you? He would have acquired it three to four months ago.”

Spring returning to Narnia was less impressive than the melting of Peter Kiel from an aloof college director to a human being. His posture eased, his face relaxed, he sat forward in his chair—even his voice was warmer.

“An Egyptian scroll? What can you tell me about it?”

I wondered if Vasil was going to remind him that we wanted him to tell us about it, but the vampire didn’t do that.

“The script was Late Egyptian—”

“Hieratic?”

Vasil nodded and went on. “It was written on papyrus.”

“How many papers?”

“I’m sorry?”

“How many papers were glued together to make the scroll?”

“Ten.”

“Only ten?” The director thought about that for a moment, then said, “Has it been translated?”

“Director Kiel, can you take a moment to answer my question?”

“Oh. What was it?”

“Did Professor Wayde ever tell you about it?”

“Why would Wayde have it?”

There was a lot of anger riding behind those words. Maybe the ice Kiel had cultivated in his soul was meant to hold back his emotions.

He continued, “What that man knew about Egypt wouldn’t fill a thimble. No one in their right mind would have trusted him—”

Kiel stopped. He looked at Darius.

Count Vasil stare back at him. Impassive.

“Was it counterfeit?” Kiel asked.

“The script was real,” Darius said.

“But the scroll wasn’t?”

“We’re still making inquiries. Did Wayde ever mention the scroll to you?”

“No. Which is further evidence the scroll wasn’t real.”

“Has Wayde ever asked for help from you before?”

“Our fields of study didn’t overlap much.”

“I was told that Wayde specialized in ancient religions. Did that not include the ancient Egyptian religion?”

“Professor Wayde was a theoretician who stood on the shoulders of explorers and linguists in order to make his arguments. Everything he learned about Egypt, he learned from people like me. He would sit in his armchair and dream up ideas after reading our translations.”

“I see. So he wouldn’t have been able to translate the scroll himself?”

“Not remotely.”

“Director, we’ve seen Wayde’s internet history. In the three weeks before he died, he’d visited several sites that would have helped him translate the scroll.”

“Three weeks? That might be enough time for him to learn how to write his own name. Even then, he probably would have gotten it wrong.”

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

“You’re saying that Wayde couldn’t have translated it, even if he went to the internet?”

“Not unless he submitted the entire thing to an expert. Three weeks is barely enough time to get a decent grounding in the rules of the language, and it only would have worked if he’d neglected everything else—including sleep.”

“So it was a matter of time?”

“Yes. Trevon Wayde didn’t have the time or the talent to translate the scroll without help.”

The vampire scooted to the front of his chair. “I’d like to make this perfectly clear—in your expert opinion, there was no way that Professor Trevon Wayde could have interpreted that scroll in three weeks without help.”

“That’s correct.”

“What if I told you I had evidence that the scroll was accurately translated?”

“Then the only conclusion is that he had help.”

“Did you help him, Director Kiel?”

“No.”

“I understand that in this college you’re the foremost expert on ancient Egyptian languages.”

“I’m the foremost expert in this half of the country, Agent Vasil, but Wayde never brought me the scroll.”

“Can you tell me where you were on the evening of October seventeenth?”

An invisible glacier slid over Kiel’s features. Our frozen director of anthropology was back.

“You must be joking,” he said.

“Do you remember?” Darius prompted.

“That was the night Wayde was killed. You think I might have killed him. Why?”

Darius flicked his hand open. “It’s only a formality. I have reason to believe that the person who killed Wayde was capable of translating a scroll written in Late Egyptian.”

“I hear that’s a rare talent,” I added.

Kiel’s eyes moved from me, back to Vasil. “I was at my home, reading. My wife was there, but she was working in her office. I don’t think she can vouch for me.”

I was surprised to learn Kiel was married. After all the professors I’d met, I kind of assumed that bachelorhood was a part of the job requirement.

“No one else was there?” Darius asked.

“Agent, since you’re investigating the matter, I’m guessing there was something dubious about the scroll’s history. Wayde wouldn’t have brought it to me. If I had learned about it, I would have done everything I could to get him fired.”

He said the word fired with all the authority and bluntness you’d expect from an officer commanding an execution squad.

“Even if he hadn’t done anything wrong?” Darius asked.

“Possession is proof he’d done something wrong,” Kiel said. “If he was innocent, he would’ve had the person who brought it to him dealt with.”

“What if it was left on his doorstep?”

“But it wasn’t, was it? Another point to consider, Agent—if he had brought the scroll to me, it wouldn’t have taken me three weeks to translate it. A ten page scroll? It would have taken me a few hours. That kind of time frame suggests that the person who helped him was only a talented amateur, not an expert. And while I am the foremost expert in this area, there are other people who can read Late Egyptian. Most of the professors in my department dabble in it.”

“Who would you say is the most talented?”

Kiel paused to think, then said, “Bailey has the most years, VanWessel uses it the most for his work, but Frost seems to be the most eager. He comes to me for help more than the others.”

Darius and I were both silent. I don’t know about the vampire, but I felt a chill sweep over my neck when I heard Frost’s name.

How fitting.

“Director,” Vasil said, “has Frost been coming to you with more questions recently?”

Kiel’s scowl rippled with grudging discomfort. “…Yes.”

“About when would you say did this start?”

Another hesitation. “About a month ago.”

“Thank you, Director,” Darius said. “I appreciate your willingness to talk to us.”

We stood up.

“That’s all?” Kiel asked.

“Is there something else you think we should know?”

“Your departure seems rather abrupt.”

“Do you happen to know if Professor Frost is here?”

“I haven’t seen him, but he’s usually here for a few hours on Saturday.”

“Thank you.”

We left. I set my pace to vampiric power walk as we set off down the halls.

“Well?” I said.

“Well what?”

“Fine then, I’ll say it. It was Frost.”

“Why do you think that?”

“You heard what Kiel said! Frost’s been trying to translate something for almost a month. He was Wayde’s best friend, so Wayde would have taken the scroll to him before anyone else. It’s got to be him.”

“I agree, but if we’re right, that only means Frost translated the scroll. It’s not evidence that he was involved with Wayde’s murder.”

“Don’t you think it’s suspicious that he didn’t even mention that he could read Egyptian?”

“I do think it’s suspicious. That’s why we’re going to talk to him right now.”

He opened the door to Frost’s office and walked inside. There was a gaggle of students standing at the edge of the room. Rena Drix was among them. When she saw us, she left the group and came over.

The count said, “Is Professor Frost here?”

“He left ten minutes ago,” Drix said.

“Why are you here?”

“I had nowhere else to go. Wayde’s office is locked, and I didn’t want to ask Kiel to open it. Mr. Vasil, the police have announced that they’ve found Louis Summer’s body.”

Darius sighed through his nose and stared over the heads of the students—then suddenly looked at her.

“Wait, what?” he said.

“Is Louis Summer dead?” Drix asked.

“How did you hear about that?”

“One of the students came in to tell us. He read about it online. Someone saw Summer’s car—”

“—and called it in. I know. I didn’t expect the news to break already. Did they tell Frost about it?”

Rena’s brow furrowed. “Yes. That was…” She stopped.

“Go on, Miss Drix,” Darius said.

“That was right before he left. He came out with his mug, but he stopped and asked us what we were talking about. Then he kind of went still, put his mug down, and told Harvey that he was leaving for the day.”

“He didn’t say anything else?”

“No. He went back into his office, grabbed his bag, and left.”

“Emerra, what are you doing?” Darius asked.

I held up my phone. “Getting Frost’s home address from Iset.”

Half of the vampire’s mouth lifted in a tight-lipped smirk. “Well done.”

There’s nothing like a compliment from fake nobility. Pin that crayon-colored, paper medal right to my puffed-out chest. It only took three tries before I could subdue my grin.

“Shall we?” Darius said.

“Can we walk a little slower this time?” I asked. “If I lose another pants size, I’m pretty sure I’ll implode.”