Agents of Shadow (The Keepers of White Book 1) Read online

  “Could you drive me home then?” she cut him off as her eyes widened at the sudden revelation of the solution to the dilemma.

  Professor Madsen gave an expression of reluctance that made him seem unsure of the request. It was so unlike him to lack confidence in his features. In fact it seemed unreal, almost as if his hesitation was just an act. “I… I don’t know. I have a strict policy not to give students rides home. It’s unprofessional… and a liability.”

  “I really don’t mean to put you in such an uncomfortable predicament,” Jamie pushed, “but could you please make an exception just this one time? I won’t cause any trouble, and I won’t tell a soul that you drove me home if you’re worried. You know I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize your career.”

  “I know. I’m not implying that you would…”

  “Professor Madsen, you know me pretty well. As your student I’ve met all of your expectations, haven’t I?

  “Yes,” he admitted, “as a matter of fact, you’ve exceeded most of them.”

  “I’ve always done what you’ve required in my classes with you. I’ve always worked hard for you, sir. Couldn’t you do me this one favor? I’ll do extra course work and any independent study program that you want me to do.”

  “You’re trying to guilt me into this,” he said with a playful smirk. “How the high and mighty has fallen to such low-blow tactics.”

  “Well then,” she continued, “I’ll use logic instead of guilt. I’ve met with you many times in your office to go over projects and to get extra help. I was alone with you all of those times, and have always been professional. What’s the difference between your office and your car?”

  “Nice attempt at persuasive arguing,” he laughed, “but having a student in my office is much more acceptable than in my car. Really, I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

  “Professor Madsen, I won’t be getting on my bus. I’m going to walk with you back to your office to fill out the paperwork whether you want me to or not. If you’re that concerned for my safety, you’ll give me a ride. If you’re not comfortable with it, then I’ll use your phone to call my fiancé to pick me up after he’s off work, and I’ll just wait around campus for him.”

  Madsen raised an eyebrow. “What time does he get off work?”

  “Two in the morning.”

  “Long time to wait. Campus at night isn’t the safest place either, you know.”

  “I can wait, I can walk home, or you can drive me home. One thing for sure, I won’t be leaving you alone until I fill out the forms and you fax them.”

  “What about Uber?” Madsen suggested. “Or a taxi?”

  Jamie paused for a moment, then shook her head. “I’m as broke as every other college student, sir.”

  The professor scratched his head and strained with an apprehensive expression. “I suppose I could lend you the funds…”

  “Except I don’t know when I’d be able to pay you back, sir,” she interrupted.

  “Well,” he sighed, “I’m not really worried about that.”

  Again, Jamie felt an almost alien sense that taking money from him would make her feel awkward, but strangely, having him drive her home sent no negative vibes at all. It was as if this inner voice, be it her own or that of a higher power, was literally pushing her toward that option. “What’s the big deal, anyway?” she blurted out aggressively, surprising herself. “We’ve known and worked closely with each other for two years. I think we’re well past the point where we need to remain formal and professional one hundred percent of the time. You’re my mentor, Professor.”

  Said mentor had moved on from scratching his head to rubbing his chin, considering her argument.

  “I trust you,” she added, going in for the metaphorical kill. “I can’t believe at this point you don’t trust me too.”

  Professor Madsen stared at her as she stared back, her lips forming an innocent smile that finally forced him to shake his head in humorous defeat. “You really are too much, Miss Partell.”

  “Sorry sir. You have always told me that I need to be more assertive.”

  “Assertive is good, yes. Aggressive, however can be self-destructive.” He sighed in humorous defeat. “Well you leave me little choice. Okay, let’s go get the paperwork. I’ll drive you home.”

  Jamie’s smile widened to one of amplified gratitude as she followed him toward the exit door off the stage left side. “Thank you, sir. You won’t regret this. I promise to make you proud when I’m in Washington.”

  “Your poor fiancé. He’s going to have his hands full with you.”

  “Probably. You think he’ll survive?”

  “A lifetime with you? I’ve no doubt. As long as he keeps the liquor cabinet stocked. Otherwise you can refer him to me when he needs therapy.” She laughed in good humor at herself as they exited the auditorium into a dimly lit corridor.

  They walked down a long, empty hallway in the east wing of the Behavioral Sciences Center; for a while they remained silent, and only the echoed cadence of their footsteps on the linoleum floor made sound. Jamie felt a slight beaming of confidence as the satisfaction of successfully convincing a man of her mentor’s caliber brought a sense of accomplishment to her. She glanced over at the middle-aged, aristocratic man beside her, and caught a miniscule and barely noticeable smirk on his lips. Professor Madsen seemed to walk next to her with a more light-hearted foot than she would have expected. His smirk, his beaming eyes… he was happy with something: perhaps her display of aggressive-assertiveness made him proud of her? For some reason she thought not. His expressions and body language made her think of someone filled with bravado, but someone who was trying not to show it. What bothered her about this was that it was only minutes ago that she saw him tense up with discomfort at the prospect of breaking protocol by giving her a ride home. He was filled with a nervous, doubtful look while he protested her request. Now he seemed quite the opposite. He seemed… almost pleased with himself.

  No, there was no almost about it. She had seen that look many times before in her younger brother’s eyes, during those occasions when they fought over things the way siblings do. As they grew older, everything turned into a competition between her and Dennis. Whether it was about whose turn it was on the T.V., whose turn it was to say grace at dinner, or who was right in a silly argument, it really came down to who could get their way. Usually Mom and Dad would separate them until they learned to get along, but there were the few occasions when they would give in to one or the other, and Jamie never forgot the bratty, smart-ass look her brother would give her whenever he “won.” It was “Nanny-nanny boo-boo, I’m right; you’re wrong, two points for me, read ‘em and weep, so long sucker, and smell ya later!” …all in one little smirk of a facial expression that Jamie came to recognize as the “Gotcha!” look.

  She wouldn’t go so far as to say that Professor Madsen, a man well in his late forties, now took on a duplicate, brat of an expression like her younger brother did so many years ago. His features, though not unattractive or unwelcoming, did not have the colorful curiosity, the impish imagination, or the adorable innocence one would see in face of a child. In no way did this subtle smirk and gentle gleam in his eyes completely mimic Dennis’s “Gotcha!” look, but she saw it anyway, or she thought she did; a light touch of parallelism or similarity, or even just the shape of that curl in his lips that reminded her. Whatever she saw in him, it made her think of that satisfaction of victory she often saw in her brother’s face. It was quite bizarre to her. She just convinced Madsen to go over the paperwork with her and fax it to Washington tonight, and to, against his preferences, drive her home so she won’t have to walk or wait for Neal. Shouldn’t she be the one with the “Gotcha!” look?

  Jaime looked again at the professor just to confirm with her mind that she saw that smirk, to make sure she wasn’t just seeing things, but his expression of self-satisfaction was gone, replaced by his normal, scholarly look of sophistication. Either that or it was n
ever there to begin with; just a dash of paranoia to blend in with all the other alien thoughts invading her brain tonight. Perhaps she was just imagining it. Even so, the tiniest trickle of confusion and uneasiness crept down her spine as they continued down the hallway toward Professor Madsen’s office.

  Chapter III

  Jamie sat tensely in the plain, hard, brown, plastic chair opposite Professor Madsen’s desk, where she watched and listened to him speak to his contact on the phone, while leaning in his more luxurious, black, leather, swivel chair. As he spoke, he kept using his stylish cross pen as a pointer to poke the paperwork on the desk in front of her, refocusing her back on task. More than once, she had to be redirected to continue filling it out, not to just sit there in anticipation and wait for hopefully good news. Obediently, Jamie went back to filling out and signing the necessary documents.

  There really wasn’t a lot to complete, Jamie noticed. Madsen had reassured her that her previous applications containing most of the general paperwork was already on file at the Department of Education’s Internship Office. The ones in charge of selecting potential interns already had most of her personal information, as well as updated resumes and well-written cover letters. She only had to fill out simple yet tedious forms that related to the particular internship for which she was now applying. Still, she found it hard to concentrate as she kept looking up at her instructor for a wink or a “thumbs-up” from him that would indicate that he had successfully persuaded the Intern Director in Washington to save the newly opened position for her.

  From what she could tell, the conversation sounded to be going in her favor. Professor Madsen certainly spoke on her behalf in such a flattering light that she told herself she would be forever thankful for. For a while, she strained to tune him out as she kept to her task, then her ears focused back on his voice when she perceived he had succeeded in getting the ball rolling: “Great!” Madsen said enthusiastically into the office phone. “I’ll be sure to tell her… Okay Bill, I’ll be talking to you soon… Absolutely… Yep, Miss Partell is our girl. Bye now.” He hung up the phone as he smiled at Jamie.

  “Well?” Jamie asked as she, once again, paused in filling out forms. Based on Madsen’s demeanor and comments while on the phone, she was positive the internship was hers, but it was always good to get that absolute confirmation.

  Professor Madsen looked at her, silent; teasing her with the news he now had for her. “Aren’t you finished with that paperwork yet? The Intern Director at D.O.E. is a very busy man, and he can’t wait all night for his new intern to get it to him so she can be legitimately selected.”

  “Yes sir!” she responded with enthusiastic glee. She couldn’t believe what was happening. Just hours ago she was talking with Neal about what movie they would go to see next, and now she would be talking with him about her upcoming summer in the nation’s capital, potentially opening up all sorts of doors in her career path. She could hardly finish filling out the paperwork with a steady hand. Once again she looked up at her teacher. “Thank you Professor Madsen,” she said with overwhelming sincerity. “Really. I don’t think I can find any words that would truly demonstrate how grateful I am.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” Professor Madsen waved at her. “What’s important is that you follow your destiny, and it’s my job to see you get there.” His smile widened as he said this, and she would have thought his smile (and the way he now stared at her) to be uncomfortably eerie if only she would have noticed it, for she had once again gone back to completing the contractual documents that she hoped would set her future on a bright path.

  The small but tidy scholastic office had become awkwardly silent. It made Jamie work faster at Madsen’s desk. She wasn’t sure how to handle this silence, but she inexplicably wanted to get the packet done so they could fax it and be on their way. Perhaps she was over-anxious to tell her fiancé and her parents of the good news.

  Finally, she put her pen down and looked up at her admired professor. “All finished?” he asked, no longer staring or smiling, only looking down at her papers. She nodded to confirm.

  Madsen took just a few moments to look over the packet. “Excellent!” he said grabbing his tweed jacket. “I think that should do. We should get going now. It’s getting late, and I have a long drive to Indianapolis tomorrow. Besides, I’m sure you’ll want to get home so you can tell your loved ones the…”

  “Professor,” Jamie interrupted Madsen as he picked up his things, “we’re supposed to fax the paperwork. Remember?”

  Professor Madsen froze with an expression of a deer caught in headlights, but he quickly replaced it with warm smile and a wink. “I can’t pull anything over on you, can I Miss Partell?” he said with good humor. “Ok, no more teasing. I promise.” He took her completed paperwork off her desk and brought it to his fax machine. Jamie smiled back at him with a look that showed she enjoyed his games, but inside she was a little concerned. Part of her truly thought, based on his slight moment of hesitation, that Professor Madsen genuinely forgot about faxing the paperwork; the main reason why she came with him to his office in the first place. Did he really forget? And if he was only teasing her, was he really that good of an actor? Again, a voice in her, an unfamiliar one, told her she was still being paranoid and that he was faxing the paperwork now, and that was all that mattered. The voice sounded completely logical to her and therefore helped her dismiss her concerns yet again.

  Jamie looked around the office while waiting for Madsen to finish the task. She had been in here so many times before, but she could never get used to the awe and wonder that overcame her when she read the dozen or so plaques that boasted the professor’s awards and achievements in his field. Each one was affixed to the cream colored office wall behind his desk, and was proportionately distanced from one another in a pattern that spoke out obsessive-compulsive professionalism. The certificates from accredited institutions were encased in polished, wooden frames, and the glass casing was so clear, she would swear he cleaned them with Windex every day. The award plaques were also polished to a vibrant shine, free of the smallest lint of dust or scratch on their surfaces. On his rosewood-stained desk, every item was neatly set in what looked to be so appropriate and typical of a place: an inbox on the right-hand corner with almost no mail or correspondence to be reviewed, an electric stapler and three-hole-punch on Madsen’s near right hand side, and a smooth, crystal stationary holder, shaped like a drinking cup that shimmered a blue tint. It had separators inside of it, which made different sections. The professor used them to separate his blue and black pens from his red pens, and his pens from his pencils. His highlighters in yet a different section. There seemed to be no end to Professor Madsen’s quest for organization and tidiness.

  What Jamie found to be most intriguing was another office item on the side attachment of his beautiful desk. This attachment was the same color of the desk, but had a hard, polyurethane finish on the top surface. This was where he normally placed his laptop, which was now packed away in his carrying case by his chair, and where he had what seemed to be his most unusual decoration. On the far, right hand side was a small statue (a little larger in size than that of a softball) of a man lying dead upon a rock, on his back. His chest was impaled with an odd-looking, sword. Less than a quarter of the blade could be seen protruding out of the man. The hilt resembled an array of small skulls lined in a way similar to the walls of ancient catacombs, with the “X” formed by two, silver bones, separating the blade from the hilt. The man’s head, which had a blank stare that indicated he was dead, was not the head of a man at all, but of a wolf. Standing victoriously above the creature, with one boot of mail upon its back, was a figure that appeared as a valiant knight in dark armor.

  One time, long before, when Jamie had inquired about this peculiar statue to the professor, he shrugged his shoulders with casual grace, and in a simple manner, pulled the sword of the statue out of the wolf-headed man. When he handed it to her, she took it and could tell it was
merely a letter opener, though a very uniquely shaped one. The blade was like nothing she’d ever seen before. She had looked up at Professor Madsen, and as if reading her question in her mind, answered her before she could ask it: “Not sure why I bought it. It looked pretty cool. When I researched its origin, I found that it represents man vs. evil. The werewolf is an abomination of nature that, in folklore has terrorized villages by stealing young children for food, hunting and murdering women out for a stroll at night, and devouring poor farmers’ livestock. The werewolf represents the hardships and evil that befalls the common people of society. The sword is made of silver, which has been believed to be the only thing that can kill a werewolf.

  Jamie had become interested in Professor Madsen’s story. She had asked why the sword’s hilt looked like a bone, and why only the werewolf’s head had changed. She had only seen werewolves in picture books and movies that took the shape of a man, but were furry all over. To this Madsen had replied, “Good questions, Miss Partell. The bone hilt represents the rib of Adam, who is the father of man. I believe, if I remember correctly, that only the head has changed to a wolf to remind us that it was once a man and that man himself can become the abomination to his own kind if he allows himself to turn from his fellow man and fall into darkness. This statue reminds us that we must never allow ourselves to become wolves, so to speak.”

  “But since the werewolf is slain by a knight, it looks like this statue represents a triumph over evil and darkness,” Jamie had pointed out.

  “Ah yes,” Professor Madsen replied, “but since the werewolf was once man, it could very well represent evil’s triumph over man.” There was a puzzling silence from Jamie when the professor had said this. Hence, he had finished the topic with one last comment: “I suppose it depends on how you look at it.”

  Now, Jamie looked again at the strange statue. She was always drawn to the blank stare of the werewolf’s eyes. She felt those eyes showed more than death, that they also gave off a feeling of fear and sadness for something unknown, and she couldn’t help to feel a shred of pity for the so-called abomination of man, as silly as it seemed being that it was just a fancy sculpture that held an eccentric letter-opener.