You know, traditions are a funny thing. You get forced to do some stupid activity over and over again in hopes that one day you might look back on it fondly.
Ravenwood High definitely had its handful of traditions, despite the fact that this specific school was only around five years old.
Unlike the blue and black day, or the senior prank, which felt like forced traditions no one would remember, at least the yearly yearbook signing was a real tradition that went all the way back to our elementary school days.
Every year, on the second-to-last day of school, the staff handed out yearbooks. Then for the next hour, we had to run around, writing generic well-wishes and signing our names as if this moment meant something, as if these words would be looked at with fond nostalgia one day when we were all older instead of the more likely scenario that they’d be gathering dust in our closets.
It was unfair to say I was always against this tradition. In fact, I used to love filling out my yearbook. But this year, I wasn’t really feeling it.
While my classmates scrambled to collect signatures like they were Pokemon cards, I sat at one of the long lunch tables alone with my Walkman in hand.
Around me, the cafeteria was a chaotic mix of celebration and mourning. In one corner, a group of girls sobbed dramatically, clutching each other as if this was the last moment of happiness they’d ever have. While in another corner, a pack of guys high-fived as if they had just escaped hell.
The song “Good Riddance” by Green Day played over my headphones and I listened as the guitar began to strum.
Just like the lyrics stated, these kids really were at a turning point in their lives. But pretending like this was some big deal made them look so fucking stupid.
I let out a deep sigh.
I don’t know where the hell that thought came from, but it wasn't true. They didn’t look stupid. They looked happy. If anything, I was the loser, sitting over here sulking all by myself.
What the hell was wrong with me. Ever since I met Nicole, I dreaded this whole graduation thing. It was hard to be happy about little things like this, when there were kids like her and Alex who would never make it to this moment.
Or Sharon's kids who didn’t even make it to high school.
How fucked up was that!?
Sweat started to bead down my forehead and I felt my body tense. I felt so much anger at the world. I thought about slamming my fist on the table to let it all out. Instead, I closed my eyes, squeezed my yearbook until my hands went purple, then let out a deep breath.
Before I could spiral too deep, my alone time was abruptly cut short. I felt the table shake as someone sat down across from me. I opened my eyes, half expecting it to be Murph, but I wasn’t even close.
Across the table, a girl from my Spanish class named Lindsey plopped down.
You could tell by her smile that she radiated energy. Like a lot of the other girls in the room, she had apparently dolled herself up for the last week of school.
It suited her well. She had long straightened blonde hair, a floral print dress, and bright red lipstick that made her look like she had stepped out of a different decade. She motioned for me to take off my headphones.
Reluctantly, I pulled them down, letting the music play faintly around my neck.
“Hi! Why are you over here all by yourself? Are you doing alright?” she asked, flashing a smile.
“I'm fine, thanks for asking," I replied, "I just needed a minute. I stayed up too late. You know how it is.”
“That's good, because you looked upset,” she said, unsure of the honesty in my answer.
“Well, if you’re not too busy,” she slid a yearbook and a pen toward me, “would you sign my yearbook? My goal this year is to get all my close friends to sign it.”
I stared at the book, then at her. We had spoken maybe ten times all year. That didn’t exactly scream close friends.
Her smile wavered slightly, and I realized that by not just signing the book, I was starting to look like an ass.
“Oh sorry, yeah, of course I will.” I grabbed the book and flipped toward the back, scanning the pages to see what her actual close friends had written.
She leaned in. “Isn’t it kinda crazy that we’re the first class to graduate?”
I blinked. “What do you mean? We’re not the first class.”
“Well, yeah, but we’re the first to go all three years at Ravenwood. That’s kinda cool, don’t you think?”
“Oh, yeah. Super cool.” I scribbled something in her yearbook in a similar fashion to what others had said, then handed it back.
She beamed. “I can sign yours too, if you want!”
“Oh, right.” That was embarrassing. I handed her my book.
She flipped through the pages. “I hope you don't mind me taking up extra space, I have this thing about leaving thoughtful messages.”
“I have plenty of room in there. It's all yours.”
She smiled wide, started writing, then paused. “Hey, totally no pressure, but a few of us are going out for a celebration dinner at Big Al’s after school. You should come.”
I nodded absently as I glanced at the page she had signed. But it wasn’t her message that caught my attention, it was the photos next to it.
One was the usual yearly shot of Ravenwood High. They had all the students gather in front of the building for one super photo. The other was of the school during construction. Above them, they had added the captions: ‘How it started’ and ‘How it’s going.’
But that wasn’t what had stolen my attention.
On the fence in the construction photo was a sign with the message coming soon. The sign was adorned with a logo. It was a simple logo that featured a two sided hammer that appeared almost purposely cross like.
That was the same logo that sat at the top of the calendar in the woman's vision.
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
Lindsey was apparently still talking, but I hadn’t been listening to a word she said, “So, you’ll come, right?”
“Yes, sure,” I said, answering on autopilot.
“Great! See ya at four!”
She bounced off, back to her group, leaving me staring at the photo.
I finally had a lead. That felt fucking amazing, even if I had no idea what it meant. Considering I only had two days until they locked this place up for the year, it might be too late. But at least it was something.
Maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t completely lost in the dark after all.
But with almost no time left before the end of the year, I had to work quickly, or I might never find out what happened.
###
Instead of lunch, I convinced Murph to meet me in the library. The second-to-last day of school meant the place was mostly empty, save for a few overachievers pretending to try for whatever reason. I picked a corner table, away from everyone else in the room.
When I was sure no one else was paying attention, I pulled out my laptop and started to do some research while I waited on Murph.
The first thing I needed to figure out was what that logo meant. I opened my browser and typed Construction company with a hammer and cross logo.
Luckily, that was apparently all I needed. The logo belonged to a company that called themselves the Malleus Group. I pulled their website up on my screen.
From the about me page, I found out they were a construction company with projects across the United States, though they’d been around since the seventeenth century in Germany.
They didn't expand to the U.S. until after World War I. According to the article, they were driven here during the post industrial boom. My best guess was to make a shit ton of money. It must have worked.
Interesting, their US headquarters were only like thirty minutes away in the town of Lone Elm. That must be the place where she worked.
“Hey,” Murph whispered as he slid into the chair next to me.
“Hey, man. Where were you for yearbook signing?”
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Following up on a lead on that Josiah guy you wanted me to look into.”
I perked up, "and?"
"Turned out to be a dead end, sorry man."
“Damn,” I muttered, turning the laptop toward him. “Well, at least I found something. Check this out.”
“What am I looking at?” he asked.
“The company the girl from the gym worked at.”
Murph frowned. “And how exactly did you figure that out?”
“I saw it in a vision,” I said, forgetting that he didn't know about my new ability.
“Hold on. You see visions now?”
“Oh yeah, sort of. It’s complicated.”
He shook his head, exhaling. “What isn’t in your life these days?”
I laughed. “Fair point. Oh, and get this, they built Ravenwood High.”
Murph leaned in. “So a girl died in the building of the company she worked for?”
I shrugged. “Technically, we don’t know she died here. She might just be attached to something in the building. Either way, we should check it out. See if we can figure out who she was.”
A ping from my laptop made us both jump. A notification flashed across the screen.
I leaned in. “No way.”
“What is it?”
I was too shocked to reply. There on my screen was a friend request from Nola233. He must have checked the guestbook. I hovered over the accept button, but my finger hesitated. I still hadn’t told Murph about monsters yet. How do explain my excitement?
“I feel like I'm missing something,” Murph finally said.
There wasn't going to be a good time to do this. If I was going to have him risk his life to be my partner in all this, I had to rip off this fucking bandaid.
I sighed and pulled up the site. “I’m going to tell you something, but you have to promise not to freak out.”
Murph folded his arms. “When have I ever freaked out?”
“That's fair,” I said. “but I've never told you anything like this before.”
I checked over my shoulder to ensure there were no eavesdroppers. When I was confident we were alone, I started to explain everything that happened in Cottonwood.
“Ghosts aren’t the only thing I see now.” I scrolled through the site until I found the wraith. “In Cottonwood, I saw two of these.”
Murph’s expression tightened as he read the description, but he didn’t say anything.
I kept going. “Remember when you asked me in the parking lot if I killed that man?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Well, it wasn’t a man. It was one of these. He was also the lead doctor of the fucking place. And he wasn’t just killing people. He was manipulating them. He tried it on me too, but my powers somehow stopped it from working. It's the only reason we're talking right now.”
Murph pressed his fingers to his temple. “Dude. What!?”
“I know,” I said. “If I were in your shoes, I’d think I was crazy too.”
He didn’t answer. He just reached over and started scrolling. The table contained information on common creatures like Minotaurs, Werewolves, and Vampires. But it also contained stranger ones I had never heard about, like Fexts and Manananggals.
Murph exhaled sharply. “You said not to freak out, but I’m struggling here.”
“That's understandable, but that's not even the worst part.”
He frowned. “Wait. How does this get worse?”
I ran a hand through my hair. “I'm pretty sure Wyatt, the guy we’ve been tracking, is a shapeshifter. While I got the doctor, there was this nurse. She was also one of those things. Unfortunately, she got away and she knows what I look like. Which means he does too.”
Murph closed his eyes. “That’s not ideal.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious.”
He scrolled back up. “So who’s this Nola person?”
“The guy that made this site.”
"Well if that's the case, I think we should probably accept his invite. We don't want him to change his mind," Murph said.
I clicked accept. “I was hoping he’d have something for me.”
As if on cue, a message popped up.
> Nola233: Why did you contact me?
>
> JoeCool889: You have a database on Monsters. I recently saw one and I was hoping you might help.
>
> Nola233: What kind?
>
> JoeCool889: Wraith… I think.
We waited. Two minutes. Silence.
“Did we scare him off?” Murph asked.
“Maybe.”
I decided to send another message.
> JoeCool889: You still there?
>
> Nola233: Yes.
>
> JoeCool889: Do you know if there is a way to help someone that was attacked by one of these creatures?
>
> Nola233: If not too late, you must reduce swelling to the brain. You must lower their body temperature. What do you call, Hypothermia.
Murph frowned. “He wants you to freeze them?”
“Apparently.”
I glanced at the clock. We had less than two minutes before we had to head to class. I had to speed this up.
> JoeCool889: One more question, do you know anything about a project Strigon?
>
> Nola233: Strigoi? It means like undead creatures. I know no more.
He said Strigoi, not Strigon. Maybe I’d misread the notebook. Undead creatures would still fit with the vampire angle we came up with.
> Nola233: No more questions. You said you have information for me.
The bell rang. We were out of time anyway.
> JoeCool889: Oh yes, sorry. A wraith’s weakness is silver. Injecting silver to the heart will kill it.
>
> Nola233: Don't die.
Not even a second later, Nola logged off.
Murph leaned back in his chair. “Not exactly friendly.”
“Nope. But hopefully we can convince them to help us out.”
He reached out and grabbed my wrist before I could pack up. “Listen. We’re partners in this. I’m in this with you. But I can’t do this blind. You have to keep me in the loop.”
I nodded. “You’re right. From now on, if I learn anything, you’ll be the first to know.”
He let go and nodded back. “Good. Because I have a feeling we’re gonna need all the help we can get.”