Ivy. Where’s Ivy?
I pinpoint her when her hood ripples as she turns her head to the side. As a ribbon of light hits her cheekbone and reflects the blue of her eyes.
Her stare is pleading, her lips pulled in. As if she’s telling me, do what Mrs. Harrington wants.
“Fine,” I say. Mrs. Harrington cocks her ear, feigning deafness.
I yell, “Fine. I have feelings for him. Does that please you? I care for Chase Stone in a way I’ve never cared for anyone. I crave him despite the malice he’s inflicted and the apathy he gives me, except for when we’re in bed. I like him, okay?”
“Like?”
“Love.” My voice goes hoarse, gritting with sound. “I’m falling in love with him. That is the worst part of myself I can give you. I love a boy who’s cruel, who was never mine to begin with, who belonged to your daughter first.” I breathe out a few breaths. “And I’ve destined myself for heartbreak.”
“Sweet girl, I can somewhat believe your confession, with your large doe eyes and your thick, pathetic tears splashing over our pristine marble floors. But I can’t say the same for Chase Stone. He’s slept with you, he’s protected you, and he claimed you as his soulmate not two weeks ago.”
“That was in retaliation to Falyn’s hazing. I would’ve died from hypothermia had he not put a stop to it.”
Mrs. Harrington laughs, and a shiver shoots up my spine at the image of a wolf, with ferocious fangs, chasing a vulnerable girl through a forest.
“Secret societies live and die by their rules, do they not?” I ask. “He invoked the soulmate rite to stop her abuse of power.”
A Cloak hisses. Falyn. I flip her the my middle finger, overjoyed that she actually gets to see the disgust written all over my face.
“Soulmate protection provides so much more than a shield against your fellow sisters,” Mrs. Harrington says. “As you’re about to find out. You must admit, after all the hurdles he’s defended you from, despite being explicitly told to isolate and humiliate you, that Chase cares for you.”
“He might,” I say, but my tone is unsure. I have the dizziest feeling that I’m walking into a trap. “You’ll have to ask him.”
“He does.”
My back goes up. “So what? So what if he cares for me despite your stupid threats and orders? If that’s all you want, then you have it. Let me leave.”
“You’ve given me exactly what I need, my dear. That is his worst secret you bear.” After a slow, satiated smile, Mrs. Harrington pulls her hood over her head and retreats from the railing. “You are that boy’s greatest weakness to exploit.”
10
One by one, the golden Cloaks draw back from the balcony and disappear into the ether upstairs.
When I’m alone, the hidden door to the temple opens. I dash up the stairs and burst into the library, my breaths heaving.
The blue hue of sleeping computers guides me through the stacks and to the main doors, and when they hiss open softly, I sprint out, glad to be rid of that place.
Mrs. Harrington didn’t have to say it, but I hear her implications echoing in my ears. Chase is your greatest weakness.
When did that happen? I’m trying to recall the moment when Chase and I pivoted from enemies, to fuck buddies, to … whatever we are now.
The foreboding swirl in my gut has me sprinting faster to my dorm, a place where I can find some semblance of peace, of order.
“Callie!”
The familiar call slows my steps, but not my resolve. I don’t turn around.
“Callie! Wait up!”
I walk faster.
“Hey.” Ivy grips my shoulder, twisting me over my feet. “Couldn’t you hear me?”
I regain my balance and wrench out of her hold. “What are you expecting me to say to you right now?”
Ivy’s breath puffs next to mine as she trots to keep pace next to me. “It was necessary.”
“Necessary?” I echo, halting and facing her in the middle of the night-shadowed pathway. “I had to pour my heart out to that witch. With everyone watching. Do you know what kind of ammo I gave them? What kind of trigger Falyn’s going to pull when classes start tomorrow?”
“She won’t. Falyn can’t,” Ivy assures. “What occurs in the Virtues’ temple is sacred. For us alone. Falyn isn’t allowed to use any of that against you.”
“Like she was forbidden from pushing me off the dock? Or sending me nude photos of Eden? C’mon, Ivy, you can’t be so innocent as to—”
“I’m not innocent.” Ivy’s eyes shine white in the dark.
“Then why allow this to happen?”
“There hasn’t been anyone to successfully go against them in years. The Virtues have grown in power, Callie. After Emma, no one was willing to rebel against Sabine. Until…”
I throw my hands up. “Until what?”
“You.”
The one syllable strikes my heart like a fist. “Don’t put so much faith in me. I’m far from your perfect savior, and Mrs. Harrington proved that tonight. Even my worst traits weren’t enough for her. She wanted my weaknesses, too. Now she has them. And that terrifies me.”
“Please.” Ivy doesn’t have to get on her knees to beg. Her lower lip trembles. “You’re not alone.”
I catch her eye. Hold it. Even as my heart hurts, it sings. You are not alone, Calla.
“Okay.” I bite my lower lip. “I’ll do the third and final trial. But Ivy?”
“Yeah?”
“If anyone else gets hurt…”
Ivy pulls me into a hug. Her comforting, wildflower fragrance mixes with the bite of winter air, and my shoulders relax in her embrace. “It’s not easy, but you’re lowering her guard by being honest.”
“Uh-huh,” I mutter into Ivy’s shoulder.
Ivy pulls away. “And hey—that whole Mr. Harrington possibly being your dad was an unexpected twist, huh?”
I give her the side-eye. “Was it?”
“Well.” Ivy lets out a laugh, keeping one arm around my shoulders as we resume walking. “Then celebrate that he’s not. She wouldn’t lie about that.”
I turn to look behind us, down the pristine, paved walkway and back toward the library. “I’m not so sure.”
“The queen only imparts truth. That’s a requirement of leading us.”
I scan Ivy’s profile, my back tensing under the weight of her arm. She says queen like it means something. Talks about her belief in truth like Mrs. Harrington has to abide by it. Really, Sabine Harrington can do whatever the fuck she wants—that’s one of the requirements of being human.
A flicker of distrust grows its flame in my chest. I sigh, wishing for the Ivy I once knew, not the one who’s become the Virtue in my head.
We reach the dorms. Before I go in, I ask, “Are you sure you want to help with the downfall of your sisterhood?”
“I’m wishing for the Virtues of yesteryear. The ones my grandmother spoke of. If that’s not possible anymore, then I’m okay if they’re disbanded and exposed.” She pauses. “Annihilated.”
I distance from her when we reach the doors to Thorne House. “You’re a legacy?”
“Yeah.” Her ice-blond brows lower. “My grandma, and then my dad, were students at Briarcliff.”
I wait for Ivy to say more.
“He was kicked out before he could graduate,” she says. “And he said it was the Nobles’ fault.”
“Holy shit, Ivy.”
Ivy offers a waning smile. “You and I haven’t known each other for long, but you agree we connected right away, right?”
“Sure.”
“It’s why I stupidly mentioned the Nobles to you so early. The Nobles were told to keep watch on you. They’ve been interested in you from the very beginning, and I felt so, so bad for how you were treated.”
Ivy’s not asking a question, but I nod under her scope. I have the distinct feeling that’s what she needs right now, even though it’s far too late to rewind our choices.
“I’m not jus
t a scholarship kid,” Ivy says. “I haven’t been the most upfront with you, but you’re an initiate now, and I can tell you what my dad did.”
I answer hesitantly. “Okay.”
“He did some things that got him expelled, and during one of his rants with Mom, I overheard a conversation I wasn’t supposed to.”
“Go on.”
“It’s not much, but … Dad only freaked out once our lives started falling apart. He said it all came back to betraying the Nobles in high school, that he shouldn’t have done it, and if he could go back and be a ‘good little preparatory prick,’ we’d still have our money.”
“What did he do?”
“He stole a Stone’s girlfriend. Chase’s uncle.”
I breathe out a gust of air. “Whoa.”
“That girlfriend is my mom.”
My mouth hangs open.
“Thing is…” Ivy lifts her hands in an empty gesture. “He tried to get back into their good graces by pleading with me to accept the Virtues’ invitation to become one of them. That maybe, if I become Virtuous, the perks would stretch to my parents again and he’d no longer be blacklisted from top companies.”
It all makes sense. Ivy’s hesitation in telling me the truth. Her excuses and lies. “You’re trying to save your family.”
Ivy wilts. “I’m desperate to. Mom and Dad have scraped by for so long. When I received a scholarship here, my dad became my dad. Loving. Attentive and present. I’d never felt anything like it before. He put so much hope in me, in my ability to get our reputation back. I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle. I try to do what the Virtues want, but when Piper died, and I took her place beside Sabine—Callie, I—” Ivy’s mouth seals shut, her jaw hard but her eyes shining with tears. “There’s more to the Virtues than my parents know. My mother was never one of them. I can’t be Virtuous anymore. Not after what I—what Sabine made me—”
“Shh,” I soothe, drawing Ivy to my side. “It’s okay. Let’s just go home, get warm.”
“I’m sorry for lying to you.”
I rest my head against hers. “You don’t have to apologize anymore.”
Ivy glares in the direction of Thorne House, her forehead creasing. “I’m not finished telling you everything.”
I hold Ivy in a light, but secure, hug. “Then we’ll sleep on it. To be honest, I need a break from all these big reveals.”
Ivy’s soft laugh flutters my hair. “Deal. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
We separate, and I nod. I back up a few steps, waving goodbye, then swivel to walk through the doors and step into the waiting elevator. When I turn to face the front, Ivy’s still standing on the path, her stare unwavering on mine until the elevator door slides shut.
I’m dressed and ready for class well before Emma wakes up, and I pour myself a thermos of coffee before quietly departing our room.
The day dawns bright and frigid, and I huddle into my winter coat as I walk, backpack-free, to the academy. I left most of my things in my locker before my summons last night, and had no urge to run back into the deserted academy afterward to get my things—lest I stumble upon a Nobles’ meeting, too.
Only one secret society per night, please.
Gray skies cloud the horizon, and as my breaths puff sharp, white clouds, I wonder when it will snow. In the city, we either received white-out blizzards or blackened sludge piled up on curbs. I’ve never experienced the true, Christmas effect of blanketing snow on open fields and weighing down thick branches, unmarred and sparkling under the sun’s white-washed winter lens.
I’m so distracted by my unexpected Christmas wish that it takes me a moment to connect the dots when I see a cluster of students outside, their neutral-hued winter coats and parkas blending into the cobbled stone of the pavilion and academy.
Heads start popping out of collars and hoods like turtles the closer I get, and the harsh connection of voices and wild gestures slow my steps.
“Fuckin’ fight club,” a guy murmurs as he passes me by.
He’s young, pimply, and thin, likely a freshman, and when I catch his eye, I ask automatically, “What’s going on?”
He turns at my question, walking backward, his hands stuffed in his coat pockets. “More elitist bullshit. Looks like there’s an opening in their ranks.”
I raise a brow. “Huh?”
But he spins around, bypassing the gathering crowd and skipping up the school’s steps without a second look.
Me, not so much. I creep to the outskirts of the growing ring of students, too indoctrinated into Briarcliff Academy’s clandestine violence to ever turn a blind eye.
I peer above shoulders and through the spaces of arms until I can get a better view. Jeers mixed with encouragement become easier to decipher, and what I hear makes my breath quicken.
“Can you believe this?”
“What’d he do?”
“Who’d he fuck?”
“It’s fucking happening, man. Chase Stone. Look what they’re doing to him!”
Chase.
His name catches fire in my mind, and I shove through bodies, and ignoring the resulting “hey!” “fuck off, possum,” and “rude, much?” I break through the wall of students, finding myself a few feet too exposed in a makeshift circle.
Guttural laughter flows into the spaces around me, as well as its deep, familiar tone. With a sickening click, my eyes hit on the spectacle in the center.
Chase stands between his two friends, Riordan and Tempest, with James facing them.
James’s lips peel back from his teeth. “It sucks to be on the bottom rung, doesn’t it, man?”
My gaze pings over to Chase, searching his face for any clue, any reaction, to tell me what’s going on. But he’s steadfast, staring James down without the slightest tic or tell of emotion.
Until his eyes wince shut and a grunt sounds out from his tightly shut lips.
Chase’s knees buckle, but he keeps his balance.
I step closer, enough to see Tempest draw back his fist to aim another punch at Chase’s lower back. His kidneys.
“Wha—” the last letter meant to complete that word doesn’t have sound on my tongue.
Chase isn’t standing between his two friends. They’re holding him by his arms.
“Tempest!” I run forward, the primordial part of my brain wanting to catch Riordan by his ear and tear him to bits. But his hand shoots out at the last second, sending me stumbling back with a surprised rush of air exiting my lungs.
Chase reacts to my voice, his eyes flicking up to mine, then darting to Riordan.
But not before I see his flash of warning, the pain at registering my presence.
He roars, fighting against his restraints with sudden vigor, tendons popping out from his neck, his jaw becoming rigid on a scream.
Chase is outnumbered, but he struggles with untapped fury, his once docile, stoic acceptance of being restrained by two buddies bursting into ash.
“Don’t you fucking touch her again!” Chase roars at Riordan, his voice rough and guttural.
James, who watches the show with thinly veiled pleasure, mutters, “Keep doing it.”
“Let him go!” I cry at the same time, but don’t risk running up against Riordan again. Not if it will turn Chase feral and reckless.
“Callie, get out of here!” Chase demands between his ragged breaths.
I jump on Tempest instead, clawing at his arms and trying to draw them away from Chase.
But he’s Chase’s second. They row crew together six out of seven days a week. He’s stronger—so much stronger—than me.
His hurricane-green eyes meet mine right when I’m about to use my teeth, and they’re direct and bright with warning. “Leave,” he whispers. “Before you—”
I smack Tempest in the bicep, pissed as all hell that I can’t do more harm. “What are you doing to him? Let him go!”
Chase cranes his neck to glance at me. “This is none of your concern,” he pants between clenched teeth. This clo
se, I register the beads of sweat on his forehead, the tears in his blazer’s seams at his shoulders.
How long has this been going on?
“I’m not going anywhere.” I clench my hands into fists, and I direct my caustic tone to Riordan and Tempest. “You’re supposed to be his friends!”
“I said do it!” James roars above us, and, despite Chase’s valiant, stronger-than-most, efforts, Riordan lands his foot against the back of Chase’s leg, bringing him to his knees.
No! I race to the front, falling to my knees in front of Chase and holding his face. “What’s going on?” I whisper furiously. “Make this stop!”
Chase’s lids lower to half-mast. Droplets of blood fall from his lower lip onto my thumbs. “This … this has to finish.”
I agree whole-heartedly. “Stand up. I’ll help you out of here.” I glare up at Tempest and Riordan, who continue to hold Chase’s arms back, pushing his torso forward by wrenching his shoulders.
Their faces … I blink them into focus. They’re like soldiers in battle. Blank, determined, and forced into blindness. That way, no color can infiltrate their feelings until the task is done.
“Stop,” I plead with them. “You’re hurting him.”
Pain sears into my shoulders when strong, angry hands clamp down, flinging me aside as if I weigh nothing.
Chase’s roar sears my eardrums as I’m thrown, my palms scraping rough asphalt, and my stockinged knees taking the brunt.
James’s body blots out the sky as he stands over me, his fair skin blotchy, color riding high in his cheeks. But it’s not simply the winter wind that’s making his blood swirl. “Quit getting in the way of things, stupid possum, then maybe your boyfriend won’t have to pay your dues.”
“Chase hasn’t done anything,” I seethe. When I stand, the torn skin on my palms and knees scream, but my voice doesn’t transmit the pain. “And don’t you fucking call me vermin. Haven’t you heard? I’m an initiate.”
James smiles. From a distance, most would see it as his usual goofy, lopsided grin.
But maybe it’s because he’s facing only me. Maybe this smile shows his canines because his friends can’t see, and James is allowing his true self to come out and say hi before he buries it under a joking, sorry dude, but I gotta beat up your boyfriend shrug.
Fiend (Briarcliff Secret Society Series Book 3) Page 8