Crescent Wolves - G. Bailey Page 0,60

from Landon’s magic. I guess it’s a good thing it wasn’t directed at me.

The seconds tick by, the only sound is our frantic scrabbling as we look for our files. As hurriedly as we’re searching, it’s damned near impossible to find what we need; it seems like the student records are dated all the way back to the mid-twentieth century, at the latest. I can practically hear Mrs. Fairbanks coming back, this time with help, and adrenaline rushes through me as I desperately sort through folder after folder. I’m on the verge of yelling in frustration when Hunter’s voice draws our attention. “Guys, look at this.” We cross the room to where he is, and I’m surprised to see that he’s not looking at the files themselves, but rather the cabinet. He points to it, running a hand through his hair. “Do you see that?”

“As much as I’d love to sit here and admire the furniture with you, Hunter,” Landon says, “we’ve got more important things to--”

“No,” insists Hunter, his voice sharp. “Look.”

I have to squint in the darkness, but a second later I see what he’s pointing at: in the place where the cabinet meets the wall, there’s what looks like a seam of hinges. The kind that would be put in if there were a…

“A door?” asks Shade, frowning.

“I don’t know,” Hunter replies. “That’s what it looks like though, right?”

We stare at it for a moment longer, and Shade runs his fingers along the seam. “I’ll be damned,” he murmurs, and then nods to Hunter. “Here, help me. Let’s try to open it.”

“Guys,” I begin, “what if it’s not--”

But they aren’t listening to me, already putting their weight onto the filing cabinet, Hunter pulling and Shade pushing. For a second nothing happens, but then there’s a low groaning noise as the filing cabinet swings outward on its hinges, revealing a gaping doorway. It’s impossible to make out where it leads; all that’s visible from here is a long, steep set of stairs descending into the floor. “A secret passage,” mutters Landon. “We really are in a movie, aren’t we?”

The sound of muffled voices and echoing footsteps makes us all jump, and a light comes on in the entryway. “What do you mean, they were in the office?” comes a male voice.

“They were rooting through the filing cabinets, Sir,” I hear Mrs. Fairbanks saying, the sound of her voice growing closer by the second.

There’s the sound of the office doorknob jiggling, and the male voice asks, “Isn’t the office usually locked?”

“Usually,” replies Mrs. Fairbanks.

“All right, let me take a look.”

None of us say anything, instead making panicked eye contact before our gazes settle on the passageway. We’re all thinking the same thing, and the four of us bolt through the doorway and onto the stairs.

Shade remains for a moment longer to pull the door shut moments before the newcomers enter the room. We’re left in darkness, breathing hard as we listen to the staff members moving through the office.

“I’m telling you, they were in here,” Mrs. Fairbanks says.

“I believe you, I believe you,” the man insists. “They can’t have gotten too far. Go get the other on call security guard. I’m going to keep looking.”

There’s the sound of retreating footsteps, and we’re left in silence, with only a sliver of light from below the door to illuminate the stairs. “What do we do now?” Hunter asks, sounding vaguely sick.

“There’s only one thing we can do,” Shade replies, turning to glance down the steep flight of stairs leading into the bowels of the building.

He doesn’t have to finish the sentence; we all know what he’s thinking.

Chapter 25

With the limited light from the office, it’s nearly impossible to see in the stairwell, and even when Shade turns his phone flashlight on, I have to grip the railing just so I don’t slip and fall. The stairs are steep and narrow, descending farther underground than I would have thought possible. Faintly, we can hear the sounds of people moving around in the building above us; it looks like we got down here just in time. “You know what’s weird?” murmurs Landon in the echoing silence of the stairwell.

“What?” I ask.

“It sounded like Mrs. Fairbanks didn’t know about this passageway,” he replies.

“Neither did the other guy, by the sounds of it,” adds Shade.

“This place looks ancient,” Hunter remarks, craning his head to get a look at the dimly lit concrete that surrounds us on all sides. “Do you think many people know about