The Sheridan Institute Files

Chapter 7: Eleanor

Oliver was different.

As Eleanor strode, ankles wobbling, over wheel-grooves cut into the dirt road, she couldn’t keep from staring sidelong at her former demon. They were headed west, toward Polk Falls—or rather, they were headed to an old farmer’s church on the way to Polk Falls.

The church sat between a stretch of logging forests and hay fields began—and other than passing the old, white thing on her infrequent forays to Polk Falls, Eleanor had never paid the old building much mind.

After all, Jie had verified its graveyard was properly fenced in with iron—just as she’d checked every other burial ground in a ten-mile radius of the school. So that had been that, and it had been the extent of Eleanor’s interest in churches these days.

Her mistake, she supposed.

She also supposed she shouldn’t be surprised by how different Oliver seemed. After all, logic told her that the longer he was away, the more markedly changed he would be. Yet still, she hadn’t been prepared for this.

There had always been a hard edge to Oliver, lurking beneath the boyish face and charming smiles. But now the hard edge had swallowed everything. When she met his brilliant hazel eyes, she saw darkness burning underneath. When he flashed a smile, there was nothing amused about it.

And despite her strongest wishes to the contrary, Eleanor found herself overcompensating. While Oliver seemed content to prowl down the farm lane in wary silence, scanning the harvested cotton fields, Eleanor couldn’t shut pan.

She asked him where he’d gone, what he’d seen, who he’d met, what he thought of the school grounds, how he felt about migrating birds in autumn (yes, that question really did burble out of her throat), and for each one-word answer he offered, she spat out another, more chipper question than the one before.

And all the while, her gloved mechanical hand flexed and fisted, flexed and fisted. It was a nervous tic that Jie loved to snap at her for—especially when the gears weren’t oiled and the joints squeaked obnoxiously. But Jie wasn’t here now, and…Well, Eleanor was nervous.

But blazes, if she didn’t have every right to be! Her demon had abruptly returned home, a corpse had clambered onto the school grounds, and Eleanor had had to leave Laure to teach her class (never a wise move). Why, she felt she deserved full-blown panic at this point.

“The church is just beyond those trees,” Eleanor said, voice shrill in her ears. She pointed ahead to where a forest hugged the road. Logging pines, perfectly spaced in their diagonal rows, creaked in the wind.

 “Judging by the noise,” Oliver tapped his ears, “the entire graveyard is awake.”

“How can you can possibly hear that from her?” Eleanor gawped at Oliver, feet slowing as they crossed into the shaded edge of the forest. The road cut straight through, and a hundred paces ahead, sunlight gleamed.

“Can’t you hear it?” Oliver winked, a sly thing, and Eleanor just rolled her eyes.

“Fine then. Keep your damn secrets, Oliver.”

His eyebrows shot high. “And here I thought you were a lady, El.”

“I am.” Eleanor glared. “And a lady may use whatever language she desires to make her points. Besides, I get quite enough policing from Lizzie, thank you very much.”

A soft “hmmm,” an even softer smile. “Lizzie would be…Miss Brown? Your secretary?” At Eleanor’s nod, he added, “You handled her well. Your teaching skills must finally be improving.”