Chapter 11

Shea stirred as the first rays of sunlight crept through the curtains. She blinked, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. Then the events of the previous night came rushing back, sending a shiver down her spine.

She sat up in bed, running a hand through her tousled hair. The guest room in Aunt Penelope's house was cozy, with warm wooden walls and a patchwork quilt that smelled faintly of lavender. But even the comforting atmosphere couldn't shake the lingering unease that clung to her.

Shea's mind raced, replaying the terrifying encounter with the werewolves. The snarling beast that had stalked her, its crimson eyes gleaming in the darkness. And then, the mysterious man who had appeared out of nowhere, transforming into a powerful werewolf before her very eyes.

She could still see his human form clearly in her mind - tall, muscular, with features that seemed chiseled from marble. The way he had dispatched the other werewolf with such ease both awed and frightened her.

Shea slipped out of bed and padded to the window, peering out at the misty forest beyond. Somewhere out there, that man was walking free, carrying secrets that could unravel the mystery surrounding her father's death.

A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. "Shea? Are you awake, honey?" Aunt Penelope's voice called softly.

"Yes, I'm up," Shea replied, turning from the window.

Aunt Penelope poked her head in, her face etched with concern. "How are you feeling this morning? I hope you managed to get some sleep after... everything."

"Yes I did," Shea replied. Her Aunt gave her a smile. "Come on now, get ready asap. We are going to your new academic infrastructure."

Shea contemplated for some time, then the lousy smile on Aunt Penelope reflected on hers. "You mean college?"

"College, yes."

Shea and Aunt Penelope bustled about the house, preparing for the day ahead. Despite the lingering tension from the previous night's events, there was a sense of purpose in their movements. Today marked the beginning of Shea's journey at Lockewood College, a crucial step in unraveling the mysteries that surrounded her father's death.

As they gathered their things, Greg and Oakley set off to investigate the cabin where Shea had encountered the werewolves. The two women watched from the porch as Greg disappeared into the treeline, Oakley trotting faithfully at his heels.

"Don't expect much," Aunt Penelope warned, her voice low. "Werewolves are notoriously good at covering their tracks."

Shea nodded, her jaw set with determination. "Even so, we have to try."

They climbed into Aunt Penelope's van, the familiar scent of leather and pine air freshener filling Shea's nostrils. As they pulled out of the driveway, Shea caught a glimpse of herself in the side mirror. Her face was pale, but her eyes burned with a fierce intensity.

The drive to Lockewood College was quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. Aunt Penelope's knuckles were white on the steering wheel, her usual calm demeanor replaced by a tense vigilance. Shea found herself scanning the woods that lined the road, half-expecting to see glowing eyes peering out from the shadows.

The van rumbled along the winding road, trees giving way to glimpses of sprawling lawns and elegant brick buildings. Shea leaned forward, drinking in her first sight of Lockewood College.

"It's beautiful," she breathed.

Aunt Penelope smiled, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. "Wait till you see the library. Your father spent hours there, researching... well, everything."

They approached a wrought-iron gate, its intricate design featuring intertwined vines and leaves. As they passed through, Shea felt a subtle shift in the air, as if crossing an invisible threshold.

The main drive curved gracefully through manicured grounds. Students milled about, their laughter and chatter drifting through the open windows. A group sprawled on the grass, textbooks scattered around them. Two girls hurried past, deep in animated conversation, while a young man juggled a coffee and an armful of papers.

Aunt Penelope navigated towards the visitor parking lot, weaving around cyclists and meandering pedestrians. They passed the imposing facade of Main Hall, its weathered stone exuding an air of quiet authority. Ivy climbed its walls, framing arched windows that gleamed in the morning sun.

To their right, a modern glass structure stood in stark contrast - the Science Building, Aunt Penelope explained. Students in lab coats bustled in and out, their excited voices carrying across the quad.

As they pulled into a parking spot, Shea caught sight of a group gathered near a gnarled old oak. They seemed to be listening intently to a professor, who gestured enthusiastically at the tree's massive trunk.

"Outdoor classes," Aunt Penelope remarked, following Shea's gaze. "Your father always said nature was the best classroom."

Shea nodded, a lump forming in her throat. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead. This place held answers - she could feel it.

Shea opened the door and exited the van, her eyes scanning the bustling campus. Aunt Penelope joined her, and together they set off towards the main building. The gravel path crunched beneath their feet as they walked, the sound mingling with the chatter of passing students.

As they moved through the quad, Shea felt the weight of curious glances. A group of girls huddled near a fountain whispered and giggled, their eyes darting in her direction. Two guys lounging on a bench straightened up as she passed, their conversation halting mid-sentence.

Shea lifted her chin, refusing to be intimidated. She strode forward with purpose, her aunt matching her pace. The attention only strengthened her resolve. She was here for answers, not to make friends or impress anyone.

They climbed the worn stone steps of Main Hall, pushing through heavy oak doors into a cavernous foyer. The air inside held a musty sweetness, like old books and polished wood. Their footsteps echoed off marble floors as they followed signs pointing towards the administration offices.

A long hallway stretched before them, lined with framed photographs of past graduating classes. Shea's gaze flicked from face to face, wondering if her father's image might be among them.

At last, they reached a door marked "Principal's Office." Aunt Penelope gave Shea's hand a reassuring squeeze before knocking firmly.

The door swung open, revealing a spacious office bathed in warm sunlight. Dr. Eleanor Hargrove rose from behind an antique desk, her salt-and-pepper hair neatly pulled back.

"Welcome to Lockewood College," she greeted, her voice warm and inviting. "You must be Shea Wolfe."

Shea nodded, stepping forward to shake the principal's hand. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you for meeting with us."

Dr. Hargrove's gaze lingered on Shea for a moment before turning to Aunt Penelope. "And Penelope, it's been far too long. How are you?"

The women exchanged pleasantries as they settled into plush leather chairs. Dr. Hargrove pulled out a file, her eyes scanning the contents.

"Your academic record is impressive, Shea. We're delighted to have you join us here at Lockewood."

They dove into the particulars of enrollment – class schedules, campus policies, and extracurricular opportunities. Shea listened attentively, asking questions about the folklore and history courses.

As the meeting wound down, Dr. Hargrove handed Shea a thick packet of information. "This should cover everything you need to know for your first week. Do you have any other questions?"

Shea shook her head, rising to her feet. "No, I think that covers it. Thank you for your time, Dr. Hargrove."

Aunt Penelope and Shea turned to leave, but Dr. Hargrove's voice stopped them at the door.

"Oh, Shea?"

They turned back. The principal's expression had shifted, a hint of concern in her eyes.

"Yes?" Shea asked.

Dr. Hargrove's lips curved into a small, enigmatic smile. "Do be careful during your time here."