Glimpse (13 page)

I felt completely defeated while we waited outside the library. We had come looking for answers, and it seemed the only thing I had was even more questions. Nothing made sense.

I called my dad, and he showed up about ten minutes later.

“How'd it go?” he asked as we piled into the car.

I shrugged. “Fine.”

“How was Mr. Vidmar's brother doing?”

I couldn't think of anything good that would come from telling my dad about Dmitri freaking out, so I lied. “As well as could be expected.”

“His brother thanked us for coming,” Lisa added.

“Oh, good,” my dad said. “I'm sure it meant a lot to him.” He looked in the rearview mirror. “What were you guys doing in the library?”

“We were looking for information on the Protection Society,” Colin said.

My dad's eyebrows rose. “The what?”

It was a good thing Colin wasn't sitting beside me or I'd have punched him. “It's nothing,” I said. “It's just some make-believe secret society that Mr. Vidmar thought he was a part of. We wanted to see if it might have been true.”

Dad nodded. “I understand exactly,” he said. “You shared a very traumatic experience with that man. It's perfectly natural that you'd like to know more about him.” He raised his brows. “Did you find anything?”

“Nope,” Lisa said. “Not a thing.”

“I'm not surprised,” my dad said.

“Why? Because he was crazy?” My voice had a sharp edge, and I sounded a lot angrier than I had intended. My face flushed.

“Um, no,” my father said. “I'm not surprised because that library doesn't have very many books on cultural anthropology or religious studies.”

“On what?” Colin asked.

“Cultural anthropology or religious studies,” he repeated. “There's an entire section dedicated to those fields at the university library.” He glanced at me. “Making sense of things at a time like this is important, Dean. I'm pleased you're searching for answers. But if you want to learn about secret societies, if you think that will help you cope, then you should try the university library.”

My eyes widened. “Could you take us?”

“I'm working tomorrow,” he said. “You kids could come along if you want.”

“Yeah, that would be great.” I turned and looked in the back seat. Lisa was smiling and nodding. Only Colin looked confused.

He cocked his head and looked past me, toward my dad. “You have class during the summer?”

“Classes run all year long,” he said. “Sometimes it's people trying to finish their degree faster. Sometimes students who failed a course try to do it again during the summer so they don't delay their degree.”

“That's just wrong,” Colin said.

Lisa smiled sweetly. “Don't worry, Colin. I'm sure you'll learn all about summer school before you graduate high school.”

While Lisa and Colin bickered, I tried to look on the bright side. We still had a chance to find out what was happening to me. I just hoped that whatever I learned at the university library tomorrow would help, not condemn me for life.

 

The public library was big—several times larger than the high school library—but as we stepped into the university library, our jaws dropped. Row upon row of shelved books stretched out farther than I could see. To the right was a staircase that led up to another
two
floors of books.

“Are you kids going to be all right?” my dad asked. When we didn't answer, he gestured to a large doughnut-shaped desk in the middle of the room. A young man with a serious expression and brown plastic-rimmed glasses pointed students in various directions as if he were directing traffic at some busy intersection. “If you have questions, go ask the librarian. He should be able to point you in the right direction, and he'll be happy to help you.”

I looked over at the man again just as he smashed a rubber stamp against a hardcover. He didn't look too happy to me.

My dad checked his watch. “It's 10:45. I have a quick meeting with the dean, and then I'll be in my office grading papers until you guys are ready to go. Okay?”

Still coming to terms with the size of the library, I only managed to nod in reply.

“Good luck.” He turned and headed back out the doors.

“This is huge,” Colin gasped. “Really, really, really huge.”

“Oh, c'mon, you guys,” Lisa said. She grabbed our wrists and dragged us to the growing line at the librarian's desk.

The line moved quickly, and before we knew it, we were standing beneath the stern glare of the librarian. His head was the shape of an egg. His glasses were thick, and they magnified his eyes to at least three times their regular size so they looked like bloodshot pancakes.

I heard Colin gasp at my right. “He looks like an alien,” he muttered to himself.

“I'm not an alien,” the man growled.

Colin yelped and took a quick step behind my shoulder.

“We're looking for information on secret societies,” Lisa said, obviously trying to ignore Colin. “Particularly the Patronus Society. Though it may be called the Patronus Cult.”

The librarian kept his gaze on Colin for a couple of extra seconds before turning to his computer. “Hmm.” He scratched his chin and tapped the keys on the computer. Then he tapped the keys again, and then again, each time more aggressively than before. Finally, he grabbed a sheet of paper and jotted down a series of numbers and letters and handed the paper across the counter to Lisa. “There was no exact match for the Patronus Society or Patronus Cult, but there are some matches to Patronus in a few books on religion.” He gestured to the sheet of paper. “Those books should help. You'll find them on the second floor.” He looked over our heads. “Next.”

We were buffeted out of the way by another group of students, so we nervously made our way to the second floor.

I'd heard of the Dewey Decimal System. One of my teachers in elementary school had shown us how to use it to search for stuff. But when we crested the top stair and saw shelf after shelf of books, any knowledge that I might have had tucked away in my head ran screaming from my mind.

Colin gave himself a shake and exhaled a quick breath. “I have an idea. I'll be right back.” He sprinted back down the stairs.

“What's he doing?” Lisa asked.

“Who knows?” I looked back at the sea of books. “I don't even know where to start.”

“Me neither,” Lisa said. “I don't remember the last time I had to look for a book in an actual library. Usually I just open up a browser and
presto
!”

“I know.” I looked at the numbers on the sheet and then at the numbers on the shelves. I didn't know if you went right or left or down the rows to another section—or if I was just supposed to close my eyes and click my heels together three times and make a wish.

We were still standing frozen in place when Colin returned.

“Any luck?” he asked.

“Loads,” I lied.

“Well, it doesn't matter. Because once again, I have proven just how much of a genius I really am.” He slapped a yellow sheet of paper with the back of his hand.

“What's that?” Lisa asked.

He passed the page to her, and she held it up, struggling to read the writing. “What's it say?”

“What do you mean, what's it say?” He snatched the paper back. “It's written in perfect handwriting.”

“It looks like a left-handed monkey wrote it,” Lisa remarked.

“You just have to squint,” Colin said. He held up the paper and cleared his throat. “It says, Professor Meyers, Room 233, Social Sciences Building. Got the info from that creepy librarian.”

“I don't get it,” I said. “Who's Professor Meyers? And why did the librarian tell you to talk to her?”

Colin smirked. “You know how at school if you ask a teacher a question they always tell you to go look it up?”

Lisa and I nodded.

“Well, the easier way to find the answer is to just ask another teacher.”

“I don't get it,” I said.

“Look, we can search through these books if you want. But that's going to take us all week. Instead, we could go ask someone who's already read these books.” He slapped the paper again. “Professor Meyers.”

“I hate to say it,” Lisa said, “but from time to time you do make sense, Colin.”

“Thank you, Lisa.” He smiled. “I wish I could say the same for you.”

 

It took us an hour of walking all over campus before we found the Social Sciences building, and another twenty minutes after that before we found Room 233. Colin stepped boldly to the door and knocked three times.

“Come in,” a female voice called from the other side.

Colin opened the door. As soon as we saw Professor Meyers, he and I froze, mouths gaping. Sitting in front of us was the most beautiful woman—like, model-in-a-magazine beautiful—I had ever seen in my life. For some reason, I had expected all professors to be as boring and plain as my parents.

She looked up from her papers when she realized someone was in her office. Her green eyes widened behind her thin, red-framed glasses, and an amused smile flickered at the corners of her lips. “I don't think I have you three in any of my classes,” she said. “How can I help you?”

Lisa looked from me and Colin to Professor Meyers and back again. “Oh, you guys are pathetic,” she muttered. She turned to Professor Meyers. “I'm Lisa. And these are my friends, Colin and Dean.”

“M… my dad works here,” I said. “Professor Curse?”

“You're Dean?” She leaned forward in her chair. “The boy who fought off those thieves?”

“I helped fight them too,” Colin lied. “There were eight of them. I took out seven and Dean got the eighth.” He took a step closer to the teacher. “It was really rough.”

Professor Meyers smiled. “I didn't see your name in the paper.”

“That's 'cause he wasn't there,” Lisa said.

Colin groaned.

“Cute, kid,” Professor Meyers said. “Real cute.” She turned to Lisa. “What can I do for you guys?”

Lisa smiled. “We're trying to find some information about a secret society, and we were told you'd be the one to ask.”

“I do teach a course on secret societies.” She brushed a lock of hair out of her face. “Any secret society in particular? There are quite a few, you know.”

“The Protection Society,” Lisa said.

Professor Meyers squinted and looked off toward the ceiling. “Nope, I've never heard of it.”

“You haven't?” I asked. “What about the Patronus Society?”

She smiled. “Ah, you mean the Congregatio de Sacrificio.”

“Um… no, I don't think so,” I said. “We were told it was called the Patronus Society.”

“No doubt from someone who lives in Russia?” she guessed.

“That's right!” Colin exclaimed.

“That's a different name for the Congregatio de Sacrificio.” She paused and looked at each of us. “It means the Society of Sacrifice.” She leaned toward us a bit more. “The translation was changed a long time ago in Russia to the Protection Society, but I know which group you're talking about. They're incredibly obscure, though. You won't find much information about them.”

My words came out in a rush. “Can you tell us what you know?” I gripped the edge of her desk.

She leaned back in her chair in surprise. I imagined her reaching under her desk to press the button for security to have the crazy kid removed from her office. Instead, she nodded. “I like your passion, but let's be clear here, we're talking about something that is generally regarded as a myth. An urban legend. Which is why, I'm afraid, I don't know much. Lots of rumors, mostly.” She leaned forward again and looked questioningly at each of us. “I don't get questions about this group from anyone. Not even colleagues. Why are you kids interested?”

I considered lying, but then I remembered that my dad knew what we were doing here. He didn't think it too strange, plus there was a good chance that Ms. Myers would mention our visit to my dad, so I would be better off telling the truth. Well, half the truth. “I met this guy who's really interested in the group and his interest sort of spurred mine.”

“I think it's fascinating,” Lisa said. “Who knew there were real secret societies like this?”

Ms. Myers leaned back in her chair and smiled. “I agree, Lisa. One hundred percent. It's refreshing to find youngsters like yourselves who have an interest in the subject. Plus, it's uncommon to find people who've even heard about the group, but those who have tend to be very interested. I just wish there was more information.”

“We'd appreciate anything you could tell us,” Lisa said.

“Well. Let's see.” She tapped a delicate finger against the armrest. “Since you spoke to someone who knows the Russian legends, I'll assume you already know that they apparently believed they could stop death.”

Colin and I glanced at one another. “Yeah, we heard that. How did they do it?” I asked.

“They didn't
do
it,” Professor Meyers said. “They just believed they could.”

“Right,” Lisa said. “How did they
think
they could?”

“I don't know exactly,” she said. “I think it has something to do with their name. The Society of Sacrifice.”

“So you're saying we need to sacrifice a chicken or a pig or something?” Colin asked.

The professor coughed. “W… what?”

“I mean… are you saying that
they
used to sacrifice chickens or pigs?”

“No, I'm not saying that at all.” She pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows. She paused, as if she wanted an explanation for what Colin was talking about or maybe just an explanation for Colin in general. When we didn't offer one, she continued. “I'm sure your Russian friend told you about Pripyat, right?”