SEVENTEEN
“Finally,” I said, pulling my freshly inked arm away from the tattoo artist. The crest of the Order of the Six glistened back at me from my forearm, a symbol of my belonging somewhere forever. The thought sent a shiver up my spine, and I wasn't sure if it was from excitement or fear. The girl who didn't fit in anywhere now had a home, for better or for worse.
I let the artist put some goo on my tattoo and wrap it with a sterile bandage, then watched her usher her next victim to the chair. Valentina stepped up as Nina cowered somewhere nearby, pretending not to watch as the artist traced the same tattoo on Valentina’s ribcage. Jamie put his hand on Nina’s shoulder to comfort her, but he didn’t look too thrilled about the whole needle thing either.
“Okay,” I said, skipping over to Adan, his fresh bandage pressed under his T-shirt. It had been a long day, and I was grateful to have gotten all the big stuff over with after our little discovery this morning. “Induction ceremony? Check. Tattoo? Check. Maybe things can get back to normal now.”
Adan snorted. “Right, normal. What’s that again?”
I looked over at the tattoo artist, her own ink and piercings covering every spare inch of skin. The shop was empty apart from us, obviously bought out by Jack himself. “I’d ask how Jack Cunningham got this tattoo shop to tat up underage minors, but I’m starting to realize the pull the Order has. If Jack can do so much on his own, imagine what his superiors can do.” I shook my head. “What now?”
Adan pressed his lips together, then shrugged. “Well,” he said. “You’re right. The Order is much bigger than Jack Cunningham. We’re in now, which means we let Jack lead us. But as far as I know, he’s a tiny blip on the Order food chain.”
I kicked the floor as I thought about this. It was true, the Order must run far deeper than just Jack, than the recruitment process. I was involved in something much bigger. This was just the beginning. But why all the secrets?
“And all of their rules?” I mused. “What’s up with that? Like, how we can’t talk to anyone about the Order. Sure, I get it, but what about our parents? If our families have been recruited for generations, shouldn’t they all know about it? Shouldn’t some of them be in it?” My mind wandered to the induction ceremony earlier, to the dozens of hooded figures watching us, the new recruits, get sworn in. Did we know some of them? Most of them? I remembered the six people standing prominently in the front row, matching gold rings signifying their importance in the society. Who were the Order leaders, really?
Adan looked thoughtful. “Some of them probably are. My dad might have been in it before he died, and we’d never have known. Jamie’s parents… I don’t know. You’d think they’d have said something to him.” He dropped his voice. “Or maybe that’s why they were so persistent about him hanging with Shane. They thought Shane was all but guaranteed a spot.”
“And look how that turned out,” I said, staring at Valentina’s bare back as the artist started tracing the compass onto her side with the buzzing needle.
“Right. I could swear I saw Shane’s dad at the ceremony earlier, but it’s impossible to know for sure with all the hooded robes.” He said.
“Yikes,” I muttered.
Adan looked over at me. “As for your dad… I don’t know. He doesn’t seem like the Order type. Plus, as far as we know, he’s still in Paris.” He tipped his head in the direction of my tattoo. “You should probably work on covering that thing up around him.”
I looked down at my arm again. “Why would Jack have us get these if we can’t show anyone?” My eyebrows sat high on my forehead. The irony of getting a tattoo we couldn’t show was not lost on me.
Adan snorted. “Jack’s an egomaniac. Couldn’t you tell? He clearly wants to make a name for himself, and for his branch of the Order to be special. Hence the secret treasure hunt. Doesn’t shock me he wanted to brand all of us as his.”
“Ew,” I replied, not liking the way he phrased that. “Anyway, as for my dad, I don't think the tattoo will be a problem until this summer. Although, at that point, I’m pretty sure my dad will be pretty distracted. June wedding, anyone?”
“Oh, right.” Adan’s face tightened.
I shrugged. “Well, it’s just one day, right? We just have to get through it and then… figure out the rest.” The rest, meaning us living together. I wasn't sure if the twins were going to move into our house or if we were going to move into theirs, but either way, it was going to be the adjustment of the century.
Adan laughed again, and my eyes widened at him. “Would you quit laughing at me? What’s so funny!”
My shoulders shook as Adan placed his hands on them. “You really are new to the Newport social scene, aren’t you?”
I rolled my eyes. “Let me guess. A Fontaine-Vasquez wedding is going to be the social event of the season?”
“More like events, plural.” He corrected me, still laughing. “Weddings around here aren’t just a rehearsal dinner and a ceremony. It’s an entire season.”
I knew summers would look different from now on since I moved here, but I wasn't expecting this. Add a summer of formal events to my current to-do list, which now included treasure hunting and a long list of Order sanctioned events, and I wasn't going to have a boring moment. I blew out a breath, suddenly stressed. My fingers dug into my pocket for my newly recovered lighter, which I absent-mindedly moved round and round in my palm.
“I heard you almost lost that,” Adan said, checking out my lighter.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. You can thank your sister for that.” I held it up to the light. “After sitting in a couple of inches of dirty water overnight, I had it professionally cleaned this afternoon. I haven’t really cleaned it since my grandfather gave it to me as a kid. I guess I was just always using it.”
“Kind of a risky gift for a child.” He said, raising his eyebrows.
I laughed. “There was never any lighter fluid in it!” I said, and he nodded. “Plus, my grandfather taught me how to catch a fish, build a fire and pitch a tent, all before I was even six years old.” Adan raised his eyebrows. “What? He took me camping a lot. I guess he wanted me to be self-sufficient.” I looked back down at the lighter.
“Anyway, I didn’t even realize how tarnished it was. It’s like three shades lighter now. I forgot it could even look like this. Maybe it’s a good thing I dropped it.” The shiny silver glinted in the fluorescent lights.
“I’m glad everything worked out,” Adan said, his voice soft. The instant I met his eyes, I almost regretted it. I could see something in them, like longing or sadness, but I couldn’t fully place it.
Maybe he picked up on it himself, but I hadn’t told Adan about what happened with Valentina. I was going to leave it up to her, but it seemed like she wouldn't tell him either. In fact, she and I barely spoke after our fight this morning. It was almost like things had come full circle, and our group's dynamic was back to the way it was when I first got here; Adan pining for me, me pining for Valentina, and Valentina pretending she didn’t know I existed. I didn’t know if it had anything to do with us becoming step-siblings, but I honestly didn’t blame her.
“Looks like Nina is up next. I better go over there.” Adan said. I bit my lip to hide my smile. Was it just me, or was Adan starting to get close with Nina again? Maybe things would be different after all...
“No worries. I should go anyway.” I said, nodding goodbye to Nina across the room. “My dad asked me to find my grandfather’s address book and have it expedited to Paris. They’re coming home soon, but I guess your mom wants to get a jump on planning the wedding.”
Adan patted my shoulder. “No worries, I’ll see you later then.”
I gave Nina one last encouraging wave as I stepped out the door. I tried not to laugh as she practically bit through her bottom lip with nerves. I tossed the lighter up in the air and caught it face down, my fingers trailing over the bottom of the lighter. I felt the familiar dip of the lighter fluid cap b
ut stopped when I grazed some ridges I’d never felt before. Something that had been buried under years of build-up until today.
I held the bottom of the lighter up to my face, the silver gleaming like the day it was made. There, now sitting exposed on the base, was the crest of the Order of the Six.
EIGHTEEN
I rushed into my grandfather’s old study. Just days ago, I sat at his desk, researching the Order and looking for answers, wondering if I would even make it in. And I had made it in. I was one of the Six now. But was my grandfather too?
Looking around the large room, I realized how similar in style this study was to the secret bunker at Castle Hill. The heavy wooden desk was part of a furniture set, with two matching chairs positioned around a coffee table in the center of the room. Even the wall-to-wall bookshelves were built with the same solid mahogany as the rest of the pieces.
My gaze trailed down the hundreds of books and knick-knacks spanning the length of the room, and I groaned. If I wanted to do a thorough search of his things, it was going to take months.
I started with the obvious - his desk - and tore it apart as I dug through drawers, checked for false bottoms, and looked under loose items. I peeked behind paintings and under couches. My hands did a light search through the bookshelf, wondering if one of the books was actually a secret mechanism that pulled to unlock yet another hidden room. Certainly, in this neighborhood, it could happen.
I sighed and sprawled out on the floor, my back connecting with the hard surface. The musty scent of the oriental rug drifted up into my nostrils. I hadn’t found a single thing linking my grandfather to the Order. I did, however, come across the address book my dad asked me for. At least I’d found one thing I was looking for. Still, seeing the Order’s crest on my grandfather’s lighter confirmed the one thing I’d been wondering since I got here - that he was somehow a part of it. I guess I’d never know for sure.
I pulled out the lighter and held it up to the light, the antique bulbs shining a dim glow behind the hunk of metal. I twisted it around, letting the little rose compass illuminate. If I could just see things from a different angle, the way my grandfather had taught me, maybe I’d find what I was missing.
I tossed the lighter down onto my stomach and slipped my hands behind the back of my neck. My gaze trailed around the room as I kicked my feet up on a nearby chair, everything seeming much taller from the floor.
Being here reminded me what it was like to spend time with my grandfather as a kid. His enthusiasm in life was palpable. Whether he was teaching me to ride a bike or catch leaves on fire with a plastic microscope (much to my parents' distress, by the way), he did it all with a smile and an eagerness. He wasn't an old grandparent by any means, and, if anything, the way he pulled off his shock of white hair made him look younger. When he died, it was such a surprise to all of us, and come to think of it, I couldn’t even really remember what happened. I was too young to understand it all.
The tears welling up in my eyes blurred my vision, and I wiped them away in a quick movement. I took one final look around the rest of the room when my eyes stopped on a sliver of white peeking out from underneath the desk above me. I shot up and looked closer. There was something there, as if something had fallen behind an overstuffed drawer or had been intentionally slipped underneath the top of the desk, long forgotten. That is, unless you were short, like a child, or laying on the ground like I was. And even then, the detail could easily be missed unless you were looking for it.
The tray on my grandfather’s desk rattled as I grabbed a silver letter opener and slid the thin metal gingerly into the tight space, careful not to push the paper in any deeper, lest it be lost forever. After a few minutes of trying, the piece of paper slipped halfway out, allowing me to grab both ends and slip the entire thing free. The letter opener clanked to the ground as I turned over the material in my hand. I was holding a letter. An old letter, if the thinned and slightly discolored paper was any indication.
The envelope was already open, so I slipped the paper out with shaking hands.
Nathaniel,
I write this letter as both a close friend and as a warning. I will not insult you by dancing around the topic at hand. I know you know about the treasure. I will not ask how. You know which I mean. I trust you understand why my family has been taking measures to keep word of the rest of the treasure’s existence a secret from the other members of the Order. Things are not as they once were when our ancestors discovered the well in 1923. To them, that discovery was everything. That money was everything. They need to believe it still is and that there is no more of it.
The Cunninghams are perfectly capable of handling the search for the treasure alone. For this reason, we cannot allow word to travel about its existence, even within the six families. The amount of time you have been spending at Rose Island with your granddaughter, nonetheless, is concerning.
My family is raising questions about what else you’re telling her. Take this as your first and last warning. You will take the knowledge of Malloy’s treasure to your grave. How soon that day comes is up to you.
- AC
Nathaniel, meaning my grandfather? AC… meaning Allastair Cunningham? My heart rate pulsed as I tried to catch my breath. Why would Cunningham’s grandfather not want the rest of the Order to know about the treasure? So he could find it and keep it for himself? That would be the obvious answer. He could stand to double or even triple his wealth. Maybe more. Of the six families, the Cunninghams would be the most powerful family on the coast. And certainly, he would have no problem gaining total control of the Order with that kind of wealth up his sleeve.
If Allastair Cunningham would do anything to keep this knowledge from getting out, why did his grandson just send us on a wild goose chase to discover the treasure’s existence? And why would Jack make finding that treasure our chapter’s mission?
My mouth ran dry as questions raced through my mind. This letter was either a warning from a friend or even worse… a threat. According to Allastair, if my grandfather tried to tell me about the treasure or even started looking for it, the Cunningham family would kill him. I looked over at my grandfather’s ashes, sitting in an expensive urn as the centerpiece on the bookshelf.
Allastair warned my grandfather, and now he was dead. What lengths had he or his family gone to, to protect his secret? Adan was right. This was bigger than Jack Cunningham. Much bigger. And somehow, my grandfather was at the center of it. But what scared me the most was the realization that now, so was I.
And that’s exactly where I wanted to be.
The Cunninghams were going to answer for what they’d done, and I’d make sure of it—wearing a ball gown, an old flannel, draped in a ratty quilt from the lighthouse or whatever the hell was next. I was in, and I wasn’t leaving until I knew the truth. Let’s just hope it doesn’t kill me first.
Stay tuned for Book 2: There Can Only Be Blood
Coming soon!
About the Author
Andrea Levesque is an identical triplet with a lifelong passion for reading. Growing up, books made such an impression on her that she found herself inspired to write young adult novels herself. In writing the kinds of books she enjoys reading, Andrea threads other themes important to her, such as LGBTQ representation. By giving a voice to queer young people Andrea hopes to offer a sense of belonging she wishes she’d found when she was younger.
Andrea lives in NYC and has always loved Nancy Drew, detective stories, thrillers, and anything that invites her to solve a mystery and live in a world bigger than her own. As a queer woman, she knows that often it can be difficult to find books that represent the community in an honest and positive way, so she strives to be that voice for others who feel under-represented or forgotten in popular literature.
Follow Andrea on Instagram and check out her website at andrea-levesque.com
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