Probably a gnome could bounce down just fine, but I’m having issues just picturing sliding, feet and ass first.
Well, I think, Alice did something similar in Wonderland. Why can’t you in Briarcliff?
With that resolute thought, I slide forward, feet first, until I hit the first step. I stay like that, foot and then butt, for five or so steps before the staircase starts curving, the steps get wider, and the ceiling much, much higher.
Eventually, wall sconces replace my flashlight, which I hastily turn off the closer I get to the bottom … if there’s a ground level.
They’re not the electric ones around the academy, though. These are oil-soaked lanterns, lit by a match, and the flames flicker under the light wind of my body as I pass by.
I can’t hear much over the pounding of my heart, and my short, adrenaline-fueled breaths, but I put my entire effort into staying silent as I drift down, down, down…
Soon, I hear voices.
And wherever they are, they’re no longer being quiet.
29
“…therein, the second Saturday eve marks our monthly chapter meetings, and I implore all of you to listen intently, study your new members, and remark on your acute abilities that brought you here, as one of us, a Noble member.”
I inhale through tight lips and press against the side of the staircase, terrified of being discovered but too vindicated to scamper back up.
They exist. They’re here.
And, if it hadn’t been for Dr. Luke’s revelations today, I would’ve remembered from Howard Mason’s findings that the Nobles meet every second Saturday of the school year.
And this is their Vault.
I risk another step, and then another, until a corner wall appears. Instead of peering past it, I turn on my phone’s camera, using it as a selfie mirror, and angle it so I can see some of the movement on the other side of the wall.
I’m the shakiest cameraman of all time and will never be hired for any sort of production, but I recognize a few familiar faces lined up in a half-circle around … three? … cloaked figures who hold blazing torches. The flames crackle in the silence as the members turn to each other and murmur their motto in Latin, Fly high in the dark, as a greeting to their neighbor.
I press a trembling thumb to the camera’s button, taking a silent picture.
Behind the cloaked figures is an impressive, massive carving in the stone wall of a raven, spreading its wings and fluttering in motion from the large, hanging chandelier, lit with candles. I gasp silently, in awe of this crypt they’ve built and the boys standing within it.
James.
Riordan.
Tempest.
Chase.
Of course, Chase.
My camera keeps documenting, and I freeze their faces in time as fast as I can. There are others from lower years, whose faces I recognize, but no other seniors that I can tell. And there are ten boys, in total, the three cloaked figures in the middle making it thirteen.
“Our sisterhood,” a Cloak says, his voice gravelly and deep, more middle-aged than youthful, “has had a rough beginning this year, and we must be there for them, always. We’ve agreed to meet in their Temple for our next ritual, to discuss the loss of their member and who should be the replacement in her stead.”
Piper. They must be talking about Piper.
I angle the phone so I can see the speaker better.
“While we don’t always agree with their motives, we must keep the Virtues close. And Marquises, you must choose your soulmate on that eve, and be bound to them for life, however you choose to do it.”
I suck on the inside of my cheek, eyes riveted to my tiny screen. A soulmate from the Virtues? Does that mean an arranged marriage of some sort?
“Prince Stone, I implore you to think hard on your choice, since your destined soulmate is no longer with us.”
I angle the phone to witness Chase’s response, but lose my bearing, wasting time trying to find him in the crowd.
“Yes, Father,” I hear Chase murmur, and I gasp, this time, not so quietly.
I freeze, my joints cracking from the ice I’ve injected into my veins to stop myself from moving, but the speaker goes on as if I haven’t made a sound.
“To our initiates, I introduce our Marquises, Mr. Callahan, Hughes, Windsor. You three know what to do.”
“Yes, sir,” they respond in sync, heads bowed.
The speaker removes his hood, as do the other three, and my stare bores into my camera as I clock Daniel Stone, Headmaster Marron, and Professor Dawson as the three caped leaders.
Daniel Stone steps back, Marron and Dawson following suit. He says, his voice booming, “Earls, Viscounts, look upon your higher lords with respect and submission, as they will show you the way. As for our initiates, the Barons, your time has not yet come. This is the last eve you will be seen as applicants, as you have one more ritual to complete. I will leave it to our Marquises to best dispense the choices.”
The three Cloaks turn to leave, and I get ready to hightail it out of here, but they don’t turn in my direction. They exit stage right, on the other end, at the same time three additional robed figures walk in, this time in thick, velvet, purple robes.
The three purple Cloaks pause at the base of the stone raven, directly under the chandelier, and sweep the robes off their shoulders in synchronized movements.
And … they’re naked.
“Barons,” James cries, turning and standing in the middle of these ladies who’ve bared themselves to freshmen and sophomores. “You have a choice. Take a woman now or save yourself for your soulmate. Whatever you choose, it will be documented in this hour.”
Oh my … oh my God.
Are these prostitutes? Escorts? Adults about to sleep with … minors?
I can’t—I can’t be here. I’m too chickenshit to witness this—
A face, veiled in shadow, darts into my vision and snaps my phone from my hand. His palm covers my mouth before my surprised cry causes shockwaves into the tomb.
The back of my head cracks against the stone as the body presses against mine, but the scent—his scent—tells me who it is before I start to struggle.
My body goes slack in his hold.
Chase bends close, half his profile cast in flickering gold from the sconce above us. His irises are black lacquer. “Go.”
He doesn’t remove his hand from my mouth until I nod my assent.
Chase’s skin scrapes against my lips as he abruptly lifts his palm, and I don’t linger. I half-stumble, half-crawl up the steps and don’t stop until I fall into the Wolf’s Den and hastily close both doors to that forbidden, twisted Noble crypt.
I race home without looking back, my hair cascading in the wind.
The pathway clears of leaves, driven by the same eastern breeze, their decaying, papery skin skittering against the paved walkway as the wind picks them up in handfuls.
I follow the streetlamps until I’m outside Thorne House. I show my ID, then burst up the stairs. I don’t stop moving until I’m through my apartment door and my back splays against it.
Emma pauses in the center of our kitchenette, holding her emptied dinner plate above the kitchen sink. She never eats in the dining hall, preferring all her meals alone, and very late at night.
I meet her eye, my chest heaving, then say, “I want in.”
Emma arches a brow.
“Whatever you’re doing,” I continue, exhaling pillows of air between words, “with your late nights in the library—a place you despise—and whispered conversations with your brother, I want to be a part of it.”
Emma thins her lips, then goes about washing up her dishes like I’d never asked anything.
“You’re trying to take down the Virtues,” I say after a gulp. I rest the back of my head against the door, watching her with half-lidded eyes. “Dismantle them. Fuck with them. Whatever you want to call it. I. Want. In.”
With her back to me, Emma finishes drying her plate, then perch
es it on the drying rack. She then pushes off the counter, heading to her room.
“Goodnight,” she says over her shoulder, then shuts her door.
I growl, then slap the front door with open palms before pushing off and stomping to my side of the apartment. I only keep the light on long enough to search my furniture for errant roses, be it black or white, but find none.
I rip my comforter off the mattress, then undo my pants and crawl under, burying myself in black as far as the soft cotton will let me.
Dreams blanketed my mind surprisingly quickly, despite what I witnessed this evening, and I clamor through the harmless adventures until sounds on the other side of my door flutter my eyelids, then draw my head up.
My door pushes open, a sliver of yellow light crossing my bed, and then my form, as I sit up and squint against the brightness.
A silhouette comes into the frame. “Emma says you’ve figured out what she’s up to.”
Chase. I’d recognize that low, silky sarcasm anywhere.
I skip the preamble. “Yes.”
He folds his arms. “You broke into our ritual room today.”
I should probably add preamble to this part, but I just swallow. “Yep.”
He fishes in his pockets, and something thuds against my bed. I jerk my legs up, in case it slithers.
“Your phone,” he barks. Any amusement that was in his tone has long disappeared. “You won’t find any photos on it, or video recordings.”
I stare down at the black screen, saying nothing.
“What were you going to do with that stuff?” he asks. “Write some piss-poor exposé? Email it to our school newsletter? You forget—we own this school. It does what we demand, and if tonight showed you anything, we demand a whole fucking lot.”
I raise my eyes to meet his, but Chase’s stare is nothing but a glimmer in the darkness. “Who were they? Those women.”
He cocks his head. “Exactly what you think they are.”
“And that’s common? You Nobles bring in escorts for freshmen to sleep with? Do you not understand how fucked up that is, Prince Stone?”
“I’m more aware than you’ll ever be, Callie.”
I curl up against my headboard, as if the light he’s bringing into my room is poisoned nectar used by royalty to smite their enemies. “I wasn’t there to expose you,” I say. “I was there to see what the Nobles are. What the point is.”
“The point,” Chase says, but his echo is filled with venom. “The point is exactly what you’d expect. We are an Order that molds boys into men who will end up taking what they want, whether that be in politics, academics, forming corporate empires, influencing the laws, or amassing funds on a global scale. Our rules are the reigning power, and we abide by no other. We influence the president. We provide advice to sheiks. We strategize in wars.”
With each statement, I flinch.
“Is this what you wanted?” he bites out. “To finally be a part of an archaic group that still holds as much power as it did in 1920? To watch men use women for sex and gain money for political favors? Are you happy now?”
“N-no,” I grind out, his words like razors on my skin. “But my reasons still stand. Piper was involved in this. She was your … your soulmate—”
Chase’s hand spears forward. I wince at the violence of his movement, though he’s nowhere near me.
“Key,” he says.
I shuffle forward on the bed. “Chase, I…”
“Key, Callie. Before I really lose my shit.”
I bend over the side, picking up my bag where I dropped it. I toss him his keycard. When his fingers close around it, he says, “You’re lucky I caught you before you tripped over a goddamn rock and stumbled into our sacred rites. You have no idea, none, on how bad that could’ve been for you.”
“Then why’d you let me do it?”
Chase stills.
“You knew I took your key. You were just waiting for me to use it. That’s how you knew to keep watch near the stairs for any flicker of movement. It’s how you warned me before anyone saw.”
Chase shoves the key in his pocket, light and shadow playing across his features with his jerky movements. “You’re relentless.”
“I’m right.”
He growls in frustration. “You left me no choice. I had to gain some control over the situation while giving you what you wanted, hoping you’d stop after seeing what we are.”
We. Not they.
At least now, he’s telling me the truth. No matter how much it hurts.
I meet his eye again, and he responds with a haggard exhale. “Of course, now you’ve taken up with my sister on some asinine quest to blow up the Virtues.”
“And the Nobles, too, if they’re also bastards,” I quip.
Chase’s features grow darker than shadows, and right when I’m thinking I’ve over-stepped, Emma comes into view, placing a hand on her brother’s shoulder. “Callie’s right. Both societies are drunk on power, and people—kids our age—are dying. How far back does it go? How many other students had to die to keep their secrets?”
Chase rips from his sister’s hold. “It’s too dangerous. I told you that before you came here, and I’m repeating it now. And you are not, under any circumstances, involving Callie. She’s already a target of theirs, and if they ever find out what she’s digging up—”
“Um, I’m right here,” I say. “No need to discuss me in third person.”
Chase doesn’t even pretend to look at me. “Haven’t you two been through enough? Why be magnets for more bullshit?”
Emma opens her mouth to argue, but I get there first. “Addisyn killed Piper.”
It’s enough of a verbal boulder that Chase has no choice but to turn to me. Emma, too.
“What?” Emma says, at the same time Chase asks, “How the hell did you come to that conclusion?”
“A source,” I begin, and Chase rolls his eyes, muttering how tired he is. My voice is bristly when I continue. “But I planned to back it up by finding the lost pages of Piper’s diary. They’re in Addisyn’s room.”
“Let me guess, you took her key, too?” Chase asks.
“No,” I snipe, then choose to appeal to Emma, since she and I may have the same goals. “I’m on trash duty on weekdays, and part of that is emptying the bins in every dorm room. I figured I could get a chance then, but it’d be a lot higher if one of you helped.”
After a few beats of silence, Emma asks, “What makes you think I care about Piper?”
I shake my head. “You’re hearing me wrong. Whatever kind of person Piper was, she was looking into the Virtues, too. But Addisyn killed her before she found out what the society was hiding from their girls. And the Virtues rewarded Addisyn for it. They’ve given her status, improved her grades, gotten her on the rowing team, and she killed one of their own! Come on, guys. You may not be into the whole sororicide angle, but the Virtues assisting in a cover-up of a murder of their member has got to set your teeth on edge.”
Emma places her hands on her hips, facing her brother. “She makes a good point.”
“Callie makes a lot of points,” Chase says on a sigh. “And more often than not, they get her in trouble.”
The barb hits exactly where he intended. “That’s not fair.”
Chase slants his shoulders. “I’m not saying this to hurt you. I want you to stop this, Callie. Finish this year like a normal student, join some clubs, have fun. Don’t get sucked into our world. It’s lethal. Violent. You don’t deserve our demons.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I say, my fingers tangling in my bedspread. “I’ve been to hell. I know what lurks there, because it was in the bedroom where I found my mom. And I know I broke down—I’ve paid for that dearly. I accused a man who, while an asshole to my mother, didn’t kill her. He just hurt her, then remarried six months later. To a woman he got pregnant.”
Emma inhales a pained breath.
“I don’t want your pity,” I say to her. “Just like y
ou have no time for mine. I made a mistake, and so did he. We’re both working to better ourselves because of it. And this, exposing a society that recruits children for their own murderous means, that is what will heal me. Getting justice. Not playing cheerleader.” I look to Chase. “I can’t pretend there isn’t a hellmouth beneath my feet. The same way Rose Briar couldn’t and your sister can’t. And you, too.” My voice grows softer. “You’re here to stop me. Or save me. And I’m sorry giving me access to your society’s sexist ritual wasn’t enough to get me to scream and run. I’ve seen things, Chase. I’m not the delicate flower I’m named after. I need you to understand that.” I pause. “I need you to help me.”
Chase raises his stare from the floor, connecting with mine. As he searches my eyes, I know I’ve won, but I don’t feel our blooming connection this time. Instead, I absorb his tiredness, frustration, and unwillingness to bend entirely to my will.
Emma takes a moment to look between us, her eyes narrowed.
“Not to get in the way of … whatever this is,” she drawls, “but you’re thinking by giving the police Addy, you’ll be meddling with the Virtues’ plans enough to expose them.”
“Not to mention, exonerating an innocent man.” I flick my glance back at Chase. “Jack’s the one who got Piper pregnant, but he didn’t kill her.”
Chase hardens his jaw under my stare, but grinds out, “You already know who most of the Virtues are. You don’t need me.”
I hesitate, then ask Emma, “Were you a Virtue?”
Emma doesn’t look at me when she gives a curt nod.
Chase says to me, “The Virtues are violent and destructive and barely constrained by us at this point. If pointing the cops to Addy brings them to heel, then I’m all for it—but the rest of the Nobles may not be. By protecting the Virtues, we protect ourselves.”
“I can’t prove what the Virtues did to me,” Emma says, at last meeting my eye, “but if I can show they participated in a murder, then that could be a start.”
Virtue (Briarcliff Secret Society Series Book 2) Page 19