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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR 
THE MYSTERIOUS JANITOR & JINX
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"What?!" I hiss, "Are you mad?!" I asked incredulously as I watched her walk, hesitantly, up to the fence again. "Brittany, you can't be serious..."

That was what I had said as I watched my best friend climb that stupid fence once more; my everything was numb. All I could do was swallow that ancient primal urge to run and climb too. Jinx might not have been my friend, but she kind of saved my ass yesterday-- she had took my arm and helped me walk away from Gabriel...

Now it was my turn to do the same-- whatever monster was waiting for us... He or She would have to got through us if it wanted Jinx.

When I landed, I landed hard on my ankles, but I stood up shakily beside Brittany, wooden bat in hand. I stared at the tall imposing building, silhouetted with moonlight that made it glow ethereal and ghost-like. "You ready?" Brittany asked me and I nodded.

She patted my back, "Let's go." And then she flicked open her knife, and only then when I really looked at it did I realise, strangely, how it already looked rusted-- although a new blade--

w i t h   o l d   b l o o d

I never noticed that until now. And now that I did, it bothered me.

Why did Brittany already have blood on her Swiss-army knife. What situation would present itself so that a slightly rambunctious half American half Brit would need to use a pocket knife in the middle of a posh sub-urban Sky-rise apartment build? 

I would have asked her, but we were already sneaking across the second wing of the school. Brittany had used the knife to jimmy, screw, and pick the lock of the old janitor's shed to access the inside of the school. After doing that, we were trespassers.

When Brittany picked the old wooden door we emerged from the old dusty room, thankfully avoiding the many grey cobwebs that seemed to thread across the ceiling and decrepit work-man's desk of what the Headmaster deemed the 'Janitorial office'-- a term we pupils called bullsh&t on because we knew that both the Headmaster and Mr. Jones had an argument on school cleaning supplies, and the Headmaster decided that to appease Mr. Jones he would give him a fake 'managerial office'.

Of course this backfired.

Mr. Jones lingered for a little while, his age didn't give him frailty, which really surprised us because of how he looked like a hobbit, thin stretched pale skin covered in liver-spots, long white beard, and a temper that when challenged reminded us all just how alive he really was underneath that deathly white pallor. 

But then he left.

Mr. Jones had gone without a trace and was replaced by a new guy, whom was nice at first, but then became a silent ghost that rocked out to techno-tracks and trap with his huge headphones. He was a younger docile sort of fellow with thin dirty blonde hair, with a thing for cigarettes and graphic T-Shirts, but most importantly, he didn't challenge the Headmaster.

And I guess that's all that mattered.

Looking back at the ancient dungeon of a room, I peered into the dark, and thought about Mr. Jones. Did he know about the werewolves? Did he know about Gabriel?

He couldn't have been dormant all these years... He was a rapist, or at the very least... a Terrorist. And I was as sure as rain was true that the little devil would have been known more around this school, or the next, for being a 'trouble-maker', as Jinx had called him. 

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