Brotherhood of the Wolf

Chapter 9.1: Overheard

Bloody hell, my sister's moving in.

I guess I should at least be happy that she won't be living with me again. I've quite gotten used to having the cottage all to myself like a proper adult. But having Lark around—living and working at what had been quickly becoming my favorite hangout, no less—is going to make things more difficult.

For one thing, I'm definitely not introducing her to Clayton for as long as I can drag it out. He may have figured out a way to rule over me, but he's not getting his furry claws into my sister. And while I was going to mention my recent initiation into the Allegheny ranks during one of our upcoming heart-to-hearts, I'm now also going to avoid any talk of the two local packs with Lark, for both of our sakes.

The last thing I need is for her to stick her pretty little nose where it doesn't belong, and knowing her, she'd somehow be knee deep in drama in a hot second.

"Chi Chi Omega Chi. Friends and brothers 'til we die," the sing-songy rhyme echoes across the otherwise silent campus in the darkness.

Having been walking towards home at a brisk pace, I stop and look in the direction I think the chants are coming from. It doesn't take long for me to see the group of around a dozen men rounding the campus lake and continuing their chant as they near.

"Work hard, play hard, we do it right. Omega Chi for life and every night!" Their voices become stronger with each step and I can see their silhouettes fist-pumping the air as they intermittently pass the vintage street lamps.

Greek life during my undergraduate years was never my thing for many reasons, but I must admit that I had secretly been jealous of the deep friendships that could form between those who joined sororities. Of course the best parties were also always at fraternity row so it helped to have a connection to get you in, but I would have never paraded around campus singing a silly rhyme for beer pong and bad DJs.

Taking a 'live and let live' attitude, I'm about to get on my way again when one of the brothers in the back of the pack yells out between verses.

"What's up, President Calhoun? Nice night for a stroll, am I right?" asks the guy in an unmistakeable drunk drawl.

Calhoun. The name immediately pulls my attention toward the lake again and it's just in time to catch the head of the university—and Alpha of the Black River pack—hurrying in the other direction.

I don't hear whether Calhoun acknowledges the greeting nor do I really care. I am, however, intrigued by what he's doing out on campus so late and, more importantly, so alone. A man in his position likely has a busy schedule, but they're either being chauffeured around or surrounded by spouses or assistants. Since Douglas Calhoun appears to have neither on hand, I go into Miss Marple mode and skedaddle after him.

Following Packard's president turns out to be easier than I had thought it would be. There are enough shrubs, statues and just plain old shadows to hide behind as I tail Calhoun in the direction of the administrative building. Like the fraternity brothers, he follows the lakeside path, but in the other direction. And unlike the opposite side where there are still students hanging out and open shops, this area is dark and seemingly deserted.

There is nothing good that can come from anyone lurking around like this, and my suspicions are confirmed when Calhoun disappears among the tall, lakeside vegetation. I follow him to the edge of the bullrushes, using the dry reeds as cover. From here, I can kind of see two figures in the faint moonlight.

". . . get here. I've been waiting for nearly a half hour," says a feminine voice, which sounds familiar, but I can't place it. At least I'm close enough to hear.