Chapter 18

Tessa’s POV

My entire body had gone numb.

The other students had silenced, and their attention was directly on me. I shouldn’t have been so careless. Now they know that I’ve been here before.

“Yes, we knew one another from before I came to teach at the school,” Joseph spoke up, turning all our attention to him.

My heart was about to burst out of my chest at any moment.

What was he doing?

“We’ve been pen pals for a short while,” Joseph continued. “I’ve been acting as a mentor to her.”

Everyone looked back at me with wide and curious eyes.

“You and Joseph Evergreen were pen pals?!” One student gasped.

“You are so lucky, Tessa!” Another student chimed in.

“How did you end up pen pals with him?”

I met Joseph’s eyes. He watched me like he was waiting for me to tell them the story. To see what I can come up with.

Maybe this was a game to him, maybe he enjoys watching me squirm like this.

I turned my attention to the other students. They were all eager for me to say something in response to their questions.

Everyone except Ruby, who was sitting in the corner, biting her lip, and trying not to laugh.

“I reached out to him through my blog in hopes that I could pick his brain for information to better my own writing. I had no idea he was going to be our teacher though.”

I met Ruby’s eyes from across the room and she just gave me an amused smirk.

“It must have been such a shock for you when you found out he was going to be our professor,” Morgan chuckled. “I couldn’t even imagine how you felt.”

“I would love to hear some stories about your pen-pal relationship,” Ruby chimed in, that amused look still on her face.

I gave her a look that said, “I’m going to kill you.”

“Oh yes! Please, tell us stories!” Everyone began pleading.

I could only imagine how red my face was at that moment. The room was feeling incredibly hot and very small.

“Later,” Joseph said, finally pulling his gaze away from me to address everyone else. “We can discuss this more once dinner is ready.”

They all started talking amongst themselves, which I took as an opportunity to go to the bathroom.

Nobody noticed me slipping out of the room as I made my way down the familiar hallway that not only led to the bathroom but also to Joseph’s study.

I needed to find out what those manuscripts on the top shelf were about. Something was nagging at me that it had to do with Joseph and whatever secret he was keeping. The only way to get into his study without anyone noticing was through the connected bathroom.

Once I made it inside the bathroom, I paused for a moment, feeling my face heating as memories surfaced in my mind.

On the counter was a brand-new Crystal soap dish. Dumbfounded, I walked towards it.

It was the exact one I had shattered, but this one was very much intact. Had he gone out to buy a new one? Maybe he has a closet filled with these soup dishes and he replaces it every time it breaks.

I brushed the thought out of my mind and went toward the connected door that led into Joseph’s study.

Now, I just had to hope that it was unlocked.

I carefully tried the doorknob and managed to push the door open. I sighed in relief as I stepped into the dark study.

I only turned on one light so I could make it to the bookshelf without bumping into anything. But I didn’t want to get anyone’s attention by turning on all the lights.

I couldn’t help but feel uneasy about what I was doing. I was breaking and entering his personal study to uncover whatever secrets he is hiding. I felt like a criminal.

Snooping around a Professor’s home was a good way of getting expelled from the school. I couldn’t get myself expelled this last semester. But when I think about everything that had happened these last few days, I need to find evidence to prove to at least myself that I’m not crazy.

If I found decisive enough evidence, I’ll call the police—

Oh, but he had special connections with the Nightwalker police.

What was his deal with them? He’s able to reach them so quickly and get them to do whatever he wants. It made me wonder if the Nightwalker police were really good or not. They worked for the government just like the regular police. Surely, they couldn’t be a criminal organization.

Could they?

A knot formed in my stomach at the very thought.

I paused once I reached the bookshelf with the manuscripts, and I gazed upward. I needed to get those papers.

I began climbing the wooden steps until I reached the top. The manuscripts looked to be even older up close, and they were literally collecting dust. I blew some of the dust off and instantly got attacked by the dust bunnies, making me cough and my eyes water with irritation.

Perching myself up on the bookshelf and attempting to sit, I had the manuscripts in hand. There were so many of them and most of them were manuscripts of Joseph’s books. As I skimmed through some of them, I noticed just how beautifully they were written.

It made me remember why Joseph was one of my favorite authors.

I continued to flip through the pages of his manuscripts until I reached a manuscript that wasn’t his. It was Christopher Moore’s.

Christopher Moore has been my idol since I was a little girl. I loved his story about how he was abandoned as a young boy and found himself in writing. He didn’t have a lot of knowledge about writing and chose not to further his education beyond what he knew. But he truly created some masterpieces.

Joseph’s writing style always reminded me of Christophers, and I think that’s why I liked Joseph’s books so much.

As I flipped through Christopher’s manuscript, it was handwritten, just like the ones that Joseph had written. The only difference was that Christopher Moore signed this copy.

I furrowed my brows together, staring at the signature.

Where did Joseph get a signed handwritten manuscript from Christopher Moore? He hasn’t been alive since the early 1800s.

I continued to stare at the signature and then I glanced at the manuscript Joseph had written. I looked back and forth for a moment, trying to process what I was seeing.

But once I realized it, I gasped loudly, nearly dropping the books in the process.

Joseph’s handwriting is exactly the same as Christopher’s.

Ruby and I joked at one point about Joseph and Christopher being the same person because they are so similar. But I didn’t think that was true.

I couldn’t even fathom the idea that Joseph could be Christopher.

Could he really have lived for 200 years?

“What exactly are you looking for?” I heard a voice from beneath me saying.

I didn’t hear anybody entering the study and the voice startled me.

Joseph was staring up at me with furrowed brows.

“Sorry, I was just—”

I tried to say as I attempted to grab the ladder with my feet, but I lost my footing and fell off the shelf, taking the manuscripts with me.