Secret of the Sevens

by Lynn Lindquist

  A second voice replies, “Let’s check the woods.”

  They leave, and we tiptoe down the stairs to the secret room. We collapse on the cold floor, breathless and shaking.

  “Kane probably has Security searching everywhere for you,” Laney says. “How are we going to get to that meeting? By tomorrow, he’ll have the Executive Building in lockdown. The Pillars and police will be posted all over campus.”

  “Not to mention all the students that would love to turn me in for a $10,000 reward.”

  “Wait.” Laney jolts upright. “I have an idea. If we can get into the library, we can take the utility tunnel to the Executive Building. We can probably pry the vent open in that back room. It’s big enough to climb through.”

  “We still have to get to the library from here,” I remind her. “And it doesn’t open until 8:00. How do we cross campus in broad daylight? Everyone is after me.”

  “Unless … ”

  I lean forward. “Unless what?”

  “There’s one tunnel we haven’t taken yet. The one to Winchester House. That’s fairly close to the rear of the library. Maybe we could make a run for it from there.”

  “Winchester House? Get serious. The Pillars want us gone more than anyone. Are we supposed to pop out of their fireplace, grab a Pop-Tart for breakfast, and head off to the board meeting together?”

  “Do you have a better idea?” she says.

  I huff, “Guess not” and grab the TPD from the security box. I stand and shove it into my back pocket. “Get the map. It’s time to visit Winchester House.”

  Minutes later, we’re cruising down the corridor. We turn left at the very end and take that passage until it dead ends too.

  Laney rubs her hands across the cement surface. “Now where’s this entrance hidden?” When she rolls her eyes, they do a double take at the ceiling. “Maybe it’s that.”

  She nods up at a fluorescent light fixture directly overhead. “It’s recessed into the ceiling, so it has to be cut into the concrete. Which means there’s probably an opening behind it.”

  “Here.” I bend down. “Get on my shoulders and check it out.”

  I take my cloak off and help her up. With a little maneuvering, she climbs on and I lift her to the light fixture.

  “It’s hot,” she says. She covers her hand with her cape and pushes the light up. It lifts easily, and she slides it over to one side, then pokes her head into the opening.

  “There’s an attic ladder!” she squeals. Her hands stretch inside and roll out something metal. “Scoot back,” she directs me. She carefully draws out the ladder, unfolding it to the ground.

  I help her down and follow her up the ladder through the hole in the ceiling. It leads to a narrow space, similar to the one behind Mr. Singer’s fireplace. There’s another one-way mirror, which looks out into the family room of the Winchester House. But this time, there’s no fireplace—the mirror spans an eight-by-ten section of one wall. The glass is divided into horizontal rectangles.

  We angle our heads to see through separate panes, but our view is blocked by books and knickknacks that sit in front of the glass. With a little maneuvering, I can make out Zack Hunter stretched on a sofa watching television.

  Laney cups her hand to my ear and whispers, “We’re standing behind shelves. This must be a built-in bookcase with mirrors along the back.”

  I step back and locate a seam in the center of the mirrors that’s the size of a door. The left side is hinged and the right is latched tight. “This must be how they got in and out of Winchester House,” I whisper. “It’s the old hidden-door-in-a-bookcase. Very Scooby Doo.”

  “Don’t get too excited, Shaggy.” She points at Zack on the couch. “We still have to figure out how to get out without being caught by the Pillars.”

  Just then, Kane barges through the front door, dragging a wobbly Professor Solomon by the arm.

  “You stupid little man!” Kane twists Solomon’s arm behind his back and screams at him. “You were going to expose me with a letter?”

  “I’m done living this lie.” Solomon’s words are slurred and raspy.

  Zack jumps off the sofa a second before Kane shoves the professor on it.

  “What are you doing here?” Kane barks at him.

  “I live here, sir.”

  “You’re supposed to be scouring the campus for Talan Michaels.”

  “I d-did,” Zack stutters. “He isn’t anywhere. I also spread the word that you doubled the reward money. Now that everyone thinks he tried to frame his friends, there isn’t a person on campus who wouldn’t turn him in the second they saw him.”

  “Help me.” Solomon grabs Zack’s sleeve. “Call … police.”

  “Get to bed!” Kane orders Zack. “Now! I need you up early to stand guard for Michaels and his gang, just in case.”

  “But what about Professor Solomon?”

  “Keep your mouth shut and get to your room. You’ve seen nothing!”

  “You murdered them,” Solomon mumbles at Kane.

  “NOW!” Kane screams at Zack, who takes off for the stairs.

  “Murderer,” Solomon whimpers from the couch.

  Kane paces in front of him. “Look who’s talking. This whole mess is your fault. You should never have made a pass at her.”

  “I was drunk,” Solomon moans.

  “You killed her. You’re no better than me, Uncle.”

  “No. I threw the stone to stop her horse. She was rushing to tell William. She wouldn’t even stop to put her helmet on,” Solomon whimpers. “I never thought it’d buck her off.”

  “But it did. You killed her. And then you convinced William it was someone on the Board so he wouldn’t suspect you. You’re as guilty as I am.”

  Solomon is pitiful, blubbering and grabbing at Kane’s shirt. “I confessed. William would have forgiven me. Eventually. He would have if you hadn’t killed him.”

  Kane wrings Solomon’s wrist and he flinches in pain. “No, he would have turned you in, you fool. We both would have been kicked out of here. You’d have gone to jail. I did you a favor.”

  “You did it for yourself. You wanted his money. And you were mad because you weren’t good enough for the Sevens.”

  Kane paces in front of the bookcase. “Well look at me now. I made out better than any of them.”

  “Because you killed them.”

  “That was an accident too. I only planned on killing Singer.”

  “Those children,” Solomon wails. “They tried to save him. You locked them in a burning building.” The old man’s sobs turn to gasps and he clutches his chest. “I’m done … being blackmailed.”

  He stumbles to his feet, but Kane shoves him hard. Solomon hits his head against the arm of the sofa and falls motionless against the cushions.

  Laney inhales sharply and I cover her mouth with my hand. Cameron and Iman straggle through the door and freeze when they see the professor passed out.

  “Never mind him. Did you find Michaels?” Kane yells.

  Iman’s voice shakes. “There’s no sign of him anywhere. No one’s seen him since this afternoon.”

  Kane pulls an envelope from his pocket and shoves it at Cameron. “Hide this letter until I can destroy it.”

  Cameron slides the envelope into a book that sits on the shelf in front of Laney. She takes a step back, even though we know they can’t see us.

  “You.” Kane points a finger at Iman. “Keep an eye on the professor until I can figure out what to do.”

  “He doesn’t look well, sir,” Iman says.

  “He needs his medicine.”

  “What if he dies?”

  “All the better,” Kane snaps. “We can dump him on campus and it’ll look like he passed away from natural causes.”

  Iman’s jaw drops.

  “What should I do, sir?” Cameron interrupts.

  “Get some sleep. I want you up early to search campus for Michaels one last time before the board meeting. I told the police that Mich
aels threatened to kill Katherine, so we’ve got extra officers patrolling the grounds, too.” He slithers to the door. “I’ve texted you all instructions for the morning. Do your part and we’ll be set for the meeting.”

  Kane leaves, and Iman collapses into a chair opposite Professor Solomon. “I just want this to be over, Cam. Everything’s so screwed up. What if the professor wakes up? Am I going to have to kill him? This was supposed to be about bullshitting at some board meetings, not kidnapping and murder.”

  He buries his face in his hands.

  “Stop being a pussy,” Cam says. “We’re in too deep to back out now. If this doesn’t play out like Kane wants, our lives are over.” He plods to the stairs. “Just get some rest. You and I have to check the woods in the morning.”

  Iman sits trance-like in his chair, keeping vigil over Solomon and preventing us from sneaking out.

  With her mouth gaping, Laney waves me to the back corner of our little space.

  “Did you hear all that?” She squeezes the back of her neck. “Did Professor Solomon kill Mary Singer?”

  “I think he did … accidentally. And Kane just basically admitted to killing William and the Sevens.”

  “But why did Solomon say he confessed to William? That doesn’t make any sense. Why would Singer start the Sevens if he knew it was Solomon that killed Mary?”

  “He must have confessed right before Singer was murdered. Maybe that’s why Mr. Singer called the meeting at the chapel. To tell the Sevens it wasn’t the Board after all.”

  Her eyes scrunch. “Did you hear Kane call Solomon ‘Uncle’?”

  I nod. “You know, when Kane first called me into his office to offer me a deal, he mentioned he had an uncle that dumped him at Singer. It must have been Solomon.”

  “It sounds like Kane was blackmailing him and Solomon had finally had enough. He was clearly going to turn Kane in with that letter Kane had. We need to get it as evidence, Laney. And we need to get Solomon some help.”

  “How are we going to do that with Iman standing sentinel?”

  “We have to wait for a lucky break. The minute Iman dozes or goes to the john or whatever, we’ll go in there. You grab the letter and I’ll dial 911 and leave the phone off the hook. Then we bolt for the front door. We’ll hide behind the library, and when it opens at 8:00, we’ll race to the elevator and take the tunnels to that board meeting.”

  The fear in her eyes infects me too. “What if we don’t make it in time? The meeting starts at 8:00.”

  She’s right, but I can’t bear to have Laney Shanahan, eternal optimist, giving up so soon. “We’ll make it.” I flash her my dimples. “You know me. I’m always late.”

  Forty-seven

  It’s been hours, and Iman hasn’t budged. If anything, he’s more alert and intense. Leaning forward in his chair, his hands rigid on the armrests, he studies the professor as if he’s counting every shallow breath. The stress twisting his face probably matches mine.

  Laney and I have alternated taking short naps, but we’re just as exhausted. I nudge her arm and she wakes slowly. She glances around, realizes where she is, and straightens up.

  “Anything new?” she whispers.

  “Zack and Samantha left over an hour ago. They said they’re checking out the school and then standing watch at the south end of campus. Cameron checked the woods, but he’s already back. He told Iman the police were still searching for me. Campus security is on high alert too. Especially around the Executive Building.

  “And the other Pillars?”

  “Nick left a few minutes after Zack to patrol Rucker Road, and Kayla is staking out our house. I’m starting to freak a little, Lane. The board meeting is in a half an hour and Cameron and Iman are still home. How are we going to get out of here, much less to the library elevators, without being spotted?”

  A moment later, we have our answer.

  “You ready to go?” Cameron breezes into the room and startles Iman.

  “Should we really leave Professor Solomon? What if he needs us?”

  “We’re better off if he dies. It’ll save us the work later.” Cameron pulls up Iman and tugs him by the elbow. “C’mon already. We still need to check the rec center.”

  The front door shuts and Laney reaches for the latch on the back of the bookcase. “Are they really gone?”

  “Yeah. You ready?” The two of us unhook the door and push. The door creaks open and some knickknacks fall out. Laney grabs them while I close it behind us.

  “Get Solomon’s letter,” I remind her.

  She pulls it from the book on the shelf, and I grab a phone on the side table and dial 911. When the dispatcher answers, I whisper, “Send an ambulance,” and leave the phone off the hook so they can trace the call.

  We race outside, but we’ve only made it halfway through the yard when I hear, “It’s Michaels! Get them!”

  Two figures appear in the distance. Cameron and Iman must have only been a few houses down. We take off running, but Laney still has her stupid cape on and it’s flapping in the wind and slowing her down. Cam gets close enough to grip the flying fabric from behind and pull her down. I turn to help, but Iman is closing in on me.

  “No, Tal! Run!” she screams.

  Even as I speed up, I sense Iman catching me. His thin runner’s frame gives him the advantage, but I’m doing better than I thought I would. Then I hear a rippling noise, and turn to see the TPD lying on the grass behind me. I spin around and snatch the document just as Iman dives on top of me.

  We roll around a minute until I hear him say something. “Punch me,” he hisses. “Cam can’t see me with your back to him. ”

  He stops fighting me and I pin his arms. Breathless, I sputter, “What?”

  “Punch me and I’ll fake like you knocked me out.”

  I’m dazed, looking down at two worried eyes.

  “Michaels, you idiot!” he says through gritted teeth. “They’ll kill you if they catch you. Fake-punch me already and get your ass out of here.”

  I’m floored when it sinks in. My adrenaline is bursting and I punch him harder than I mean to. Blood spurts from his nose.

  He lays there groaning as I stagger to my feet and take off running. Laney is wrestling Cam in the distance. They’re tangled in the cape and she’s kicking like crazy. It makes me sick that I can’t help her.

  I reach the back of the library and duck behind some bushes by the door. When I’m sure no one’s around, I wiggle the handle. Unlocked.

  My body throbs with excitement. Only … that must mean it’s already after eight.

  I whip the door open and take off for the elevators. As I stand there stabbing the button, a voice calls from behind me. “You there! No running in the library!”

  When the door opens, I dash inside. Twitching fingers hit the close button a million times as I struggle to remember the first test in my head.

  Close with two. Seven times the LL. Seven times the HELP.

  I poke the “2” button and then start on the Lower Level button. One-two-three-four …

  My eyes flick up and catch a security guard watching me from a nearby bookshelf. His eyes widen when he recognizes me.

  “Stop!” he yells, circling the shelves.

  The doors close in slow motion as the guard charges for the elevator.

  I jab the LL button again. What number am I on? Five—six—seven times. Right before the doors snap shut, the guard dives for the elevator button.

  Panic rolls through me as I bang on the HELP button. One-two-three-four-five-six-seven times.

  The elevator lurches. My legs are shaking so bad, I stumble back and hit my head on the wall. The light reads that I’m bound for floor 2, but the elevator’s dropping. It rattles and bangs and stops hard.

  I sigh in relief, lifting myself on unsteady feet as the lights dim and the back panel finally glides open.

  I was up the whole night planning what we needed to do, but the scene I now face never once occurred to me. I’m staring
into the same pitch-black, claustrophobic, suffocating sewer-hole-from-hell. Only this time, there’s no Laney.

  And no flashlights.

  Forty-eight

  I can’t do it.

  I can’t feel my legs, much less make them move from the security of the lit elevator. I’m six years old all over again. Trapped in a dark closet that reeks from my own urine. Terrified of dying alone in the dark with no one to help me.

  My brain screams at me to hurry but my body betrays me. I’m paralyzed in place. The adrenaline that surges through my veins has no outlet. It backs up like a clogged pipe and clamps down hard in my chest. My heart pounds out of control, making me lightheaded.

  The room in front of me blurs slightly. The crumbling walls and dirty concrete floor are swallowed in fuzzy shadows. My stomach clenches to fight the wooziness.

  The back elevator panel starts to close and I block it with a shaking hand. I take a deep breath and look into the terrifying abyss.

  I can do this. I repeat it like a mantra. I can do this.

  I’m not six anymore. I’m not weak. I’m not helpless. And I’m not stupid.

  My past will not dictate my future.

  I step off the elevator and race down the tunnel to get every last second of light before the elevator closes. My arms are stretched to touch the walls as I run. I need to feel for the intersecting passages so I don’t miss any turns. One wrong move and I could be lost in this underground tomb for an eternity.

  I concentrate on the poem and getting to that board meeting, instead of on the vulnerable feeling of charging into complete darkness with my arms wide open.

  When darkness fills you up with fright,

  Tread straight, straight, straight into the night.

  I’m running at a good pace, despite the fact my arms ache from being held up. I’m dizzy in the darkness, but my fingertips tell me that I’ve now passed three passages—straight, straight, straight like the poem commands. My body is weak from stress and lack of sleep. The musty, rank smell tempts me to stop and throw up, but I don’t have time. I’m only halfway there.

  Then it’s the next verse.

  Left, right, left—the soldier’s pace—