In the days that followed the "cow head incident," as it would come to be known, every single student in the school had to appear before Professor Nadig to be interrogated on their knowledge of the event. Even the students who hadn't been there were questioned. For most it was the same: they didn't know anything about it beyond what they'd seen. It was, of course, very different for Allison Groves.

The message was certainly for her. She was not the only student at the school with that birthday, but Ockham's Guide had been in her dorm room. Allison was not naïve enough to believe it a coincidence.

Professor Nadig had already spoken to Miss Terwilliger. She knew that Caleb Vance had checked Ockham's Guide out, and Allison didn't really mind giving her a few more details. Professor Nadig was a kind, if exasperated, woman who, though she handled most disciplinary matters, was never overly harsh. If a student was in trouble, it was to her office they wished to be called; students dreaded the prospect of seeing Headmistress Lea. Allison told Professor Nadig that Ockham's Guide had been in her dormitory that night, that she had been reading from it as well as Caleb. She had not yet told her why.

"You know you have to be careful, Miss Groves," Professor Nadig said sternly. "Miss Terwilliger does not censor her book collection—and I, in fact, very much agree with her on her convictions—but you still must be careful. These are not topics to be discussed lightly."

"I understand, Professor Nadig," Allison said.

"And you don't, I suppose, have any idea who might have done this?" Professor Nadig asked. "It seems someone was trying to send you a message, Miss Groves, though I can't possibly imagine why anyone would do this."

Allison shook her head slowly. "No, not exactly. But...well, it was Ockham's Guide that was left out. So maybe—"

Professor Nadig held up a hand. "Let's let Headmistress Lea worry about that, all right, Miss Groves?"

Her voice was not harsh or unkind, but it was convicted. Allison looked at her a bit sadly, and then voiced her agreement.

"It's not what you think," Professor Nadig said. "I promise you, it's not what you think. Those kind of things...the things they talk about it books like Ockham's Guide...they don't exist anymore. You don't have anything to worry about."

Allison nodded but said nothing.

"Yes. All right. Well, Miss Groves, on your word you don't know anything more about this?" Professor Nadig asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

Professor Nadig sighed heavily and nodded. She muttered something under her breath that Allison didn't quite catch. She looked thoughtfully past Allison, her hands folded primly in front of her. Finally, she nodded once again.

"All right, you may go," Professor Nadig said. "I may need to speak with you another time, however."

"Yes, ma'am," Allison repeated. She stood and left the room.

So Professor Nadig knew. Headmistress Lea, too. They knew a monster was roaming the town of Clearwater, but they didn't want anyone else to know. They didn't want to talk about it. Probably couldn't talk about it. Nothing new there. The bottom line was that she'd get no help from them. Whatever she was going to do—whatever she, Shannon, and Caleb were going to do, they would have to do alone.

Caleb and Shannon were waiting for her when she came out. It was their free period and they'd both already been in to see Professor Nadig. They looked at her with poorly hidden anxiety.

"How'd it go?" Shannon asked.

"Calm down, I wasn't on trial," Allison said with a snort. "It went fine. She probably asked me about the same things she asked you, along with 'do you know why someone would nail a cow head to a wall in celebration of your birthday?'"

"That's what we all want to know," Caleb said.

Allison cracked a tiny smile. "But it was easy. No sweat."

Caleb looked at her pointedly. "Did you tell her about anything else...?"

"Sort of," Allison said. "I don't think we're gonna get any kind of help from the teachers. You know. We're not supposed to talk about it."

She rolled her eyes to punctuate her sentence.

"So they know?" Caleb asked.

Allison shrugged and nodded. "Seems like it. Or, they do, but they don't."

Shannon frowned. "I'm sorry, I'm just a lowly sixth grader. I think you're gonna have to explain that to me."

Allison made a face at her. "They don't believe in monsters. Well, they don't believe monsters exist anymore."

"But they really believe monsters did exist once?" Shannon asked, a little incredulous. Her disbelief no longer surprised Allison, but it still confused her. She didn't understand what a perfectly normal girl like Shannon was doing at Briargate.

"Yeah," Allison said. "Yeah, they believe."

"Wow," Shannon breathed.

"But we're on our own," Allison said. "Like I said, they don't think monsters exist anymore."

"Why not?" Shannon asked.

Allison frowned thoughtfully. "I don't know. I think it might have something to do with the war you" –she pointed at Caleb— "said Charlie mentioned. I'd have to ask him for more information—"

"Ugh, leave him alone," Caleb said, shaking his head. "He said he didn't want to know what we were up to. I'm not sure I want to know what we're up to—and, by the way, what are we up to?"

Allison looked at him in earnest surprise. "Looking for Mabel."

Caleb held his breath and didn't respond. He looked like he was mulling over what he could say, weighing every option he had. Shannon spoke before he could make a decision.

"Well, right now we have get to the basement," she said, taking them both by the hand. "We're supposed to be using our free period to help Professor Diefenbaker."

Professor Diefenbaker was the history teacher and likely the most peculiar professor the school had to offer. His was the only classroom in the basement—by his own choice—and connected to it was a labyrinth of other rooms packed to the rafters with Lord-only-knows-what—the sorts of things that would give the Trashbin's stock a run for its money. Often during class he'd disappear into one of them and would be heard banging around, tipping things over and sending things flying, until he'd reappear with some relic to aid his teaching. Every so often he'd require assistance to put these rooms back in order—or whatever would pass for order. The second years had drawn the short straw this go-round; as they all had the same classes, they all had the same free period, and so they all were recruited for the job.

Most of the other second years were well into their work when Allison, Shannon, and Caleb joined them in the cold and dark classroom. A few were missing; they were still sitting upstairs waiting to talk to Professor Nadig. Professor Diefenbaker, standing over his desk, looked up on their entrance. He held his arms out almost as if he were about to usher them into a hug and then one hand went to the top of his head, onto his shock of fluffy, white hair.

"Oh, good. You three. You made it." Diefenbaker had a unique cadence; he always sounded as if his mind were on other things. He threw a careless finger from the hand that didn't hold his hair at one of the open storage rooms. "Go help in there. The other kids will tell you what to do."

The room they were steered to was one of the bigger ones, but it was cramped. There were a number of desks, set up in rows as if it were another classroom. A blackboard was affixed to one wall to further the effect. All along the other walls, tall wooden cabinets were squeezed in side by side. Four other students occupied the room.

If you believe in fate, you would certainly say fate was acting now. If you're more cynical, you'd say it was just a—perhaps unfortunate—coincidence. Regardless of how it happened, Shannon Malone, Allison Groves, Caleb Vance, Ollie O'Brien, Ginger Beaumont, Jared Wilkins, and Dexter Bradbury found themselves together for the first time, just the seven of them. One more puzzle piece snapped into place.

Ollie, Ginger, Jared, and Dexter were all gathered around one desk in the middle of the room upon which an unbelievably huge stack of papers sat. Each of them held another, much smaller pile in their hands.

"Ah, welcome to the house of misery," Jared said, seeming grateful for anything to pull his gaze away from the pages in his hands. "Rest in peace, ye who enter here."

"You're an asshole, Jared," Allison said. She strolled over, crossing her arms, and looked down at the pile. "So, what are we doing?"

"Take a stack," Ginger said, gesturing vaguely at the pile. "There's a date on the corner of each page; they have to be sorted and put into one of the cabinets."

"Are they even a little bit in order?" Caleb asked, rubbing the back of his neck. Dexter snorted, the only answer they needed.

"This'll take hours to finish!" Allison said, staring at the pile in horror, like it'd suddenly started to bleed.

"Well, lucky we have to go to class in about a half an hour then, huh?" Jared said, adding mournfully, "I never thought I'd have to say that."

Allison sighed, shaking her head, and dove in. It was true; the papers had no semblance of order. She found she had to concur with Jared. She had no interest in being stuck here until all of this was done. Hopefully Professor Diefenbaker didn't expect them to come back to it some other time.

"What is all this stuff, anyway?" Shannon asked, eyes roaming one page that looked particularly old.

"Dunno," Dexter said, shrugging. "Notes of some kind. Some of them almost look like diary entries."

"Huh," was all Shannon said as she sorted her page into a stack.

Silence fell as they all worked, except for the sound of paper. Each page was handwritten, but obviously not by the same person. Besides the dates spanning at least a hundred years, the penmanship on each was different. It was evident that some of the dates in the corners had been rewritten by a different hand altogether, perhaps to make them clearer. Allison was tempted to read one of them, but she felt as if she was trespassing, crossing on some sacred ground.

"Maybe we should start putting some in the cabinet," Jared said doubtfully after a while. "Diefenbaker said it's easier once they go in there."

"Right," Allison said, utterly unconvinced. None of the others looked assured, either, but slowly and carefully they began to move their small piles, following Ginger to the cabinet Diefenbaker had appointed for the job.

The lights flickered.

Ginger set her papers on another desk, grasped the cabinet handle, and pulled, but the door did not budge. The handle was slightly loose, and she jiggled it before trying again. No dice.

"Great," she said under her breath.

The lights flickered.

Dexter moved to grab the handle with her. Together they pulled, but it did no good. The door would not move.

"Is it locked?" Shannon asked.

The lights flickered.

"Diefenbaker said it wouldn't be," Ginger said. "Ollie, go see if Diefenbaker has the key, just in case."

Ollie went off as she was told, but didn't make it very far.

"Who shut the door?" she asked.

The lights flickered.

"Why does that keep happening?" Allison asked unhappily. "We better not lose electricity down here, it's dark enough as it is."

The lights flickered. Dexter and Ginger gave one more colossal heave and the cabinet door swung open. Ginger gasped. Shannon's hands flew to her mouth. Dexter let out a shaky breath.

Inside the cabinet, on top of a pile of boxes each marked with a set of years—obviously for the papers—was heap of clothes and a human skull. It was obviously real; pieces of flesh and muscle still clung to it in clumps. A wave of nausea crashed over Allison, the same as it had been when she'd seen the cow head.

"Oh my God," Jared said.

"Holy smokes," Caleb breathed.

Ginger let out an inarticulate moan, slowing moving backwards, her eyes still glued to the skull. The lights flickered.

"Professor Diefenbaker?" Dexter said weakly. He cleared his throat and said it again, much more loudly and firmly. Ginger nearly crashed into a desk.

"Professor Diefenbaker?" Caleb joined him, amplifying the noise. Allison wanted to speak but her throat was sticky. Her legs felt like limp noodles. She felt certain soon she would fall.

The lights flickered.

The more Dexter and Caleb called for their teacher, the more hysteria mounted. Jared and Shannon both joined them, near screaming in desperation. No one seemed able to move to go get the man; they were plastered to the ground. Ginger held herself, now standing still. Her lips moved but no sound came out. Allison swallowed thickly and grasped the edge of one of the desks for support.

"Professor Diefenbaker?!"

The lights flickered again, longer this time. Allison looked up at the lights, anything to take her gaze away from the cabinet. It was dark for full seconds before illumination came back. The whole group fell quiet, like the darkness had rendered them speechless. The silence was far more stifling than the frantic yelling had been. Allison could hear someone's shaking breathing, but she couldn't be sure whose it was. Perhaps it was hers. That was the only sound.

Allison looked away from the ceiling excruciatingly slowly. With an abstract sort of terror, she looked back at the open cabinet. The skull still sat there, grotesque smile on display in between rotting strips of flesh. Allison forced down the bile that threatened in her throat.

Rest in peace, ye who enter here.

Ollie screamed as the door opened. It was not loud or long—more a squeak than anything—but it was piercing, and all six of the others jumped. Professor Diefenbaker stood in the doorway, his face distracted and strangely wild. He could not see the skull from where he was standing

"Oh, I'm sorry, all of you," he said, in that peculiar way of his. "I forgot you were in here. Got...wrapped up in other things. Time to get to your next class—I'll write you out passes for your teacher."

The seven students did not move. They looked dumbly between their teacher and each other.

"Is something wrong?" Professor Diefenbaker asked. His eyes had narrowed behind the glare of his glasses.

The seven students looked to each other again. An obvious question was written on each of their faces. Finally, Dexter cleared his throat.

"Um, Professor?" he said. "There's something here you should probably see."

Dexter half-pointed at the open cabinet. He did not look at it himself. Professor Diefenbaker raised his eyebrows and ventured cautiously into the room. He stopped dead in front of the skull and scrubbed his jaw with his hand.

"Oh, hell," he breathed.

Allison, Shannon, Caleb, Ollie, Ginger, Jared, and Dexter missed their next class, all of them ending up in Professor Nadig's office once again. They all recited the story for her, but, by some unspoken agreement, afterwards no one spoke about it to each other.

***Ugh, I hate this book sometimes. Don't mind me, I'm just whining. Anyway, thanks, as always, to everyone who voted and commented :)***