I look up at the dark wooden clock on the mantel, which looks like a cuckoo clock without the cuckoo: 11:54 p.m. I’m positive that sneaking out right now is a bad idea. But I’m also positive that I just got sucker-punched for some mysterious reason and if I don’t go meet Ash I may never know the truth about this place.
Layla’s bedroom door creaks open for the first time all night. As far as I can tell, she’s been avoiding me, and I just keep hoping she hasn’t decided I’m too big a liability.
“I didn’t know he would do that,” she says quietly.
“What do you mean?” I say, turning toward her.
She holds her door open but doesn’t actually come into the living room. “When I said Matteo was all bark, I just want you to know that I had no idea he would hit you.”
My eyebrows scrunch together, pulling at my sore face in the process. “I didn’t think you did.”
“Well, I didn’t,” she says resolutely, and exhales.
“Do you know why he did it?” I ask carefully.
She shakes her head and her hair shimmers in the firelight. “Anyway…good night,” she says, and disappears back into her room before I can get another word out.
I stare at her closed door for a few seconds after she shuts it. In the short time I’ve known Layla, I can tell that’s all the information she’s going to give me, maybe all the information she has.
It’s 11:59 p.m. I drum my fingers on the rug, hesitate, and jump up off the floor. I’m not going to just sit around waiting for someone else to attack me. I’m going to get some answers.
I pull on my boots and tie my cloak around my shoulders. It’s bulky, but it’s also black and will help me blend into the low light. I lift the latch on the door as gently as possible and crack it open. The hallway’s empty and everything’s quiet. I slip out, closing the door gently behind me, and book it down the hall. I stop by the staircase and peer down it. It’s mostly dark and there are no sounds of movement. Although I wish my heart would shut up so that I could hear better.
I take the steps quickly, pausing periodically to listen for the guards, and slink along the wall toward the first-floor entrance. I grip the cold stone and anxiously peek around the edge of the archway. There’s a guard in front of the door that leads to the vine courtyard. Did they already change the post?
As I pull back from the archway, my shoulder collides with something. My mouth opens but a hand presses over it before I can make a sound, and someone turns me around. For a split second utter panic flashes through my body, until I make out Ash staring down at me in the near blackness. He’s so close that I can smell the scent of fireplace on his cloak. He puts his finger to his lips and then points toward the entrance hall. We look again just as the guard is opening the door to go into the very courtyard we were supposed to meet in.
Ash holds up his hand, folding his fingers over one at a time. Five, four, three, two, one. He walks straight for the door, silently, at full speed. Oh, this is such a bad idea. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Ash pauses midway through the room and gives me a demanding look. Someone clears their throat a flight or so above me.
Shit—another guard!
I’m out of that stairwell and headed for the door so fast you’d think I was on fire. Ash carefully lifts the latch and we slip through. The courtyard door closes just as the other guard walks out of the very stairwell we were just in.
Ash grabs my shoulders and pulls me to a halt before I can take another step. I can’t see a thing, not one thing, and I don’t dare move.
Ash takes my hand and lifts it. My fingers graze fabric that feels similar to the blackout curtains that hang on all the windows in this place. They must pull them across the doorways at night to prevent any light from showing when the guards go in and out.
We stand there for a few long seconds before Ash finally pushes aside the fabric. The soft glow of the moonlight shines through the tree branches and my tensed shoulders relax a bit. The air is cold, but the smell of trees is reassuringly familiar.
I have to run to keep up with Ash as he weaves around the low-hanging vines. He stops in front of an impressively large trunk on the opposite side of the courtyard and begins to climb one of the vines. I watch as he hoists himself onto a branch about twenty feet above me, and I can’t help but be impressed. I follow him up and he offers me his hand, but I shake my head and pull myself onto the branch next to him. He takes a good look at the trees around us, then back at me, and we climb again, up and up.
Ash stops at two branches that have grown so close together they’ve melded into a kind of bench. The bottom branch is wide enough that I can sit cross-legged on it, leaning my back against the trunk. Ash lets his legs dangle over the side and swings them, like he’s never been more comfortable. If I’d ever found a guy in Pembrook who could climb trees and shoot arrows the way he could, not to mention possessed the general elegant beautifulness he has going on, I would have proposed then and there. Why is it that all the good ones also have an Old-World-assassin-creepy-analysis thing about them? It’s one of those mysteries the world may never solve.
He speaks then, keeping his voice quiet. “The acoustics are very good here. We’re in the middle of the three courtyards, not near any rooms and far enough off the ground not to be heard as long as you don’t raise your voice. I sometimes think it’s the only truly private place on the entire campus.”
I smile, my heart still racing happily from the climb. “You were right. This is fun.” My breath billows out in a white cloud and I realize how much I needed this bit of adventure right now.
He watches me for a second. “You grew up near a forest?”
I hesitate. The moonlight reveals enough detail that he could probably see by my expression whether I was lying. And besides, telling him there was a forest near my home doesn’t really give anything away. There are a bazillion forests all around the world. “I did. It was right at the edge of my backyard.”
He nods. “Layla told me the only things on the tour you seemed to show an interest in were these courtyards.”
I figured she told him as much. “Yeah, but even growing up near a forest doesn’t mean I could make a climb like that. What made you think I could?”
He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head like the answer is obvious. “Because you’re at this school, for one; athletic abilities are a given. And because I heard about the way you outsmarted Nyx.”
Layla really does tell him everything. “All right,” I say. “Since you already know so much about me, why don’t you tell me a few things?”
He leans against the branch lazily and turns toward me. “What do you want to know?”
I catch myself smiling and consider how to approach all the questions I have without revealing how much I don’t know. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that being clueless at the Academy is the same as being vulnerable. “Tell me about the Families here.”
He looks amused and I’m relieved that at least my question makes sense to him. “Now, that’s a broad topic.”
“Then tell me how the Families formed twenty-five hundred years ago,” I say, recalling the bits of information I got from my interview with Conner.
He laughs. “You sneak all the way out here at night, risking marks, to ask me to tell you the origin story? Don’t you think you should use your time more wisely?”
I shrug, like it’s all no big deal. “Look, I know…I have lots of other questions. Lots. But when I was in Conner’s office, he made me feel like I didn’t know the history nearly as well as most of the kids here. And I want to be able to keep up in my classes. So just humor me,” I say, putting on the persuasive voice I use to try to talk Emily into doing things she doesn’t want to.
Ash looks at me for a second and his eyes seem to be asking a question. “I guess a deal’s a deal,” he says. Then he sighs and leans back, puttin
g his hands behind his head. “The original three Families formed in an age where power and conquest were paramount. The Families started simply as key advisors and friends who had the ear of the Persian king”—he touches his own chest—“the Roman emperor”—he gestures at me—“or the Greek king. And these advisors influenced the rulers’ decisions. But word of these invaluable advisors eventually spread, and the leaders of the other civilizations targeted them in attacks. What better way to weaken the emperor than to eliminate his wisest counsel?” Ash smiles to himself, as if ancient assassinations were a good thing. “And so the rulers in the Greek, Roman, and Achaemenid Persian empires started hiding these men and women. And before long, the secrecy these advisors utilized became their greatest strength.” Ash pauses and looks at me.
“Go on,” I say, not sure what to make of the fact that if what Ash is saying is true, then the students here must be able to trace their lineages back to the time of ancient Greece.
“Over the next few hundred years, these secret advisors became more abundant and honed new skill sets. They not only counseled, but they also collected information, poisoned adversaries of the rulers, and helped to infiltrate other empires. As a show of gratitude, they were given properties, wealth, their own crests—with animals as the central figures, of course. The only things the advisors didn’t possess were proper titles, but behind closed doors they were commonly referred to as the rulers’ Family.”
“Families” with animal crests. If I learn nothing else from this conversation, at least I have a starting point for understanding where Jackal came from.
“Over time the Families grew less dependent on the ancient rulers and began serving their own agendas,” Ash continues. “They built their homes in secret locations, they elected their own governing councils, and they even worked with Families from other empires to bend and shift historical events to their will.” As Ash talks, it’s hard to ignore the enthusiasm in his voice, like he’s been telling stories his whole life.
I catch myself leaning toward him and readjust. “Are you saying they were less dependent on the rulers or decided that they were strategically superior to them?” I ask.
Ash grins. “Well, perhaps a little of both. The rulers probably thought they were in charge at that point, but let’s be realistic. Vincit qui se vincit.”
“Beauty and the Beast,” I say.
“Pardon?” Ash says, and takes his hands out from behind his head.
“Vincit qui se vincit—‘he conquers who conquers himself.’ It’s etched on the stained-glass window in the Beast’s castle,” I say.
“Seriously?” he asks. “You’re referencing a fairy tale?”
“An animated movie,” I correct him, and he gives me a puzzled look, like I might be from another planet. “But I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I say in a rush. “Please finish your story.”
Ash sits up a bit, and I can tell he’s trying to sort something out about me. He’s silent for a couple of seconds and then clears his throat. “So, as you know, the ancient civilizations eventually became too big and too politically complicated. They collapsed one by one. But by this time, Strategia had evolved, and as the great civilizations broke apart, Strategia saw the opportunity for true independence. Over time Europe divided itself into smaller kingdoms and the Greek, Persian, and Roman Strategia splintered off into further divisions—Britain became the Lions, making up the modern UK territory, the Franks became the Deer in France and Germany, and the Spanish became the Foxes in Spain and Portugal. Though, of course, these days you’ll find Family members in all countries all over the world. We’ve gone global, as it were.” He smiles.
I concentrate on what he’s telling me so hard that I’m sure my face looks strained. So there are the three original Families and then the three newer ones, but nowhere in there did he mention Aarya’s animal crest. “And the Jackals?” I interject.
He raises an eyebrow at me. “Thought I was going to miss a detail, did you?” His expression turns mischievous. “No one’s sure exactly when or where the Jackals formed. They’re the rebels of Strategia. They didn’t originate in any one country but are thought to have come together from everywhere, and to have formed their own coalition independent of bloodlines. And like the animal they chose for their crest, they prefer to live in small groups. They proudly lack the organization the rest of the Families enjoy. Now, of course, it took centuries before Strategia formed their own UN, if you will, known as the Council of Families, to establish a central order. Around 500 CE was the very first time members of all the Families came together. It didn’t take long before the Council agreed that passing down centuries of acquired knowledge could never occur in typical ways. And that brings us to the glorious Academy you have joined,” he says, and spreads his arms out, gesturing at the courtyard.
I chew the inside of my cheek, fascinated. So assassin and spy weren’t wrong, they just weren’t right. Whatever these Families are is far more complex than that—they’re nothing short of an ancient secret society that quietly pulls the strings behind the scenes all over the world. But the part that I can’t get good with is why my family would put me here with all of these secret society kids. I’m from Pembrook, Connecticut. I drive an old truck with a worn bumper sticker that reads I’M ONLY SPEEDING ’CAUSE I REALLY HAVE TO POOP. And the most mysterious thing about me is whether I’m going to bring lunch to school or walk to the pizza place, for god’s sake.
“Well?” Ash says, and I realize that I’m frowning into the dark branches.
“Right…thanks. That helps. I just…Stupid Conner, trying to make me doubt myself,” I say, and force my face to relax. I press my thumb into my palm.
“Something else you want to ask?” Ash says, watching my hands.
I stop what I’m doing and casually rub my hands together instead. “Tell me whatever you think will keep me from getting punched again.”
His expression turns serious and he nods, like I’m finally asking the right questions. “See, that’s the thing. Layla and I aren’t sure why that happened. You Italians have always bickered among yourselves. I’ll admit that it’s dramatic sometimes, but ultimately you all look out for each other. I tried to ask Matteo, but he wouldn’t say a word. The only thing I can gather is that it was personal and important.”
“But I’ve never even talked to him!” I say, frustrated. Again with the unspoken rules of this place. How could it have been personal when Matteo is a total stranger to me?
“Yeah, but that doesn’t exactly matter. All the members of a Family are entwined whether they want to be or not,” Ash says. “Bears especially.”
The longer I look at him, the more serious I realize he is. I get that he’s saying the Romans are Bears, but what I don’t get is why he’s implying I’m a part of that Family. I mean, the bears were my mom’s favorite in the stuffed animal game we played, but that’s not hard evidence that it has anything to do with me. Is it? My heart starts to race.
When I don’t respond, Ash starts talking again. “All I know is that Matteo radiated frustration. His fists were clenched the entire time Blackwood was talking to him.” Ash pauses and looks off into the trees for a moment. “The interesting thing was, though, I think he respected you.”
I take a breath and attempt to calm myself down. “Why would you think that?”
“Because he lifted his chin,” Ash replies. “Classic sign of deference to an opponent in battle.”
I choose my next words carefully. If Ash thinks I’m flustered, he may start questioning me instead of the other way around. “So besides Matteo, are there any other Families I need to avoid?”
Ash raises an eyebrow, like something I said was off. “You need to pick your allies for yourself. But as Layla has already told you, it’s generally not smart to trust a Jackal, especially coming from an influential Family like the Bears. There aren’t many Jackals here, but they alw
ays seem to make their presence known. And their alliances are unpredictable.”
I measure my voice to hide my flurry of concerns. The only thing worse than the upside-down feeling of potentially being a member of a deadly secret society I know nothing about is these assassin-trained kids finding out how ignorant I actually am. “What about Felix?”
“Ah, Lion. His immediate family used to be quite powerful, from what I hear, but lost standing some years back—hence his alliance with Aarya and that Fox.”
“Ines?”
Ash reaches up and rests his arm above his head. “Right. Those three aren’t the norm. No one is quite sure what the long-term goal of their alliance is. But if you ask me, Felix has been in love with Aarya for years, even though that’s never going to happen. And Ines uses Aarya as a mouthpiece so she doesn’t have to deal with the rest of us.”
“Makes sense,” I say, even though sense is the last thing any of this makes. I need time to think over that game I played with my mom, figure out what else I know that I didn’t realize I did. I remember the Family descriptions perfectly, but not all of the complexities of their relationships.
“And your Family?” I ask.
He gives me a quick look, like I’m asking an obvious question. “You know I’m a Wolf. But look, I think I can simplify this. Instead of going through all hundred students one by one, why don’t you just tell me where you stand?” He says this last bit casually, but I have a gut feeling that it’s significant.
“Stand?”
“For, against, or neutral?” he says, emphasizing each word in such a way that I’m sure he’s asking me something important, something I should know.
“You’re going to have to spell it out,” I say carefully, aware that he’s watching my every move. Although I don’t know why I’m surprised that Ash had an ulterior motive for inviting me up here. Everything about him screams strategy, and the worst thing is, I knew that the minute I laid eyes on him. I could kick myself for thinking otherwise.
Killing November Page 9
