Virtue (Briarcliff Secret Society Series Book 2)

by Ketley Allison

  BINGO.

  Two results pop up, one guy with a DUI rap in Westerly, and I dismiss him at first, moving onto the second result. Both mug shots have yet to load.

  My finger hovers over the second name to expand the results, but right before I do, the first picture loads, and…

  Oh.

  Oh, my God.

  I’m staring at Jack.

  Jack, Addisyn’s boyfriend.

  14

  Sunday morning passes by in a frenzied blur.

  First off, my hand was fire. It literally took on all the components of a flame and turned my delicate hand-bones to dust. I caved and ran to the nurse’s office, waiting impatiently with the few students in front with pounding, alcohol and drug induced migraines.

  After having it checked out and being administered Tylenol, I gritted my teeth against the continued gnarled heartbeat my wound created and strode to the new library.

  I spend my time there not catching up on history, calculus, or English lit like I should be after the disaster that was my quarter-term grades, but instead researched how to safely read old, falling apart, burned books.

  When I attempted to lift the flap of Daniel Stone’s mysterious “rule book” last night, it nearly disintegrated in my hands. Unwilling to let such important material be destroyed, I set it aside, though it killed me not to absorb the knowledge instantly. But a steadier hand had to prevail.

  After reading a few articles off my laptop, I start to hash out ways to use the science room when a whoosh of air puffs out beside me.

  My spine goes rigid when the accompanying scent tickles my nose.

  Citrus. Wood. Crisp weed.

  It’s similar, but not quite perfect, to Chase’s cologne.

  “Can I help you?” I ask without glancing over, pretending to be busy typing on my keyboard.

  “Not unless you’re willing to do a repeat of last night.”

  Ever so slowly, I pivot to face Tempest.

  The green of his eyes pop against the thick rim of his lashes, the same color as his ebony hair. The high cut of his cheekbones, matte rose color of his lips, and lean lines of his body give him a vampiric aura, yet his skin is sun-browned from hours spent on the water as second-in-command in Chase’s crew.

  He elaborates, without me asking, “Sadly, I only received the video version. Didn’t get to see your breakdown live.”

  “It wasn’t a breakdown,” I say stiffly.

  Tempest angles his head. “Sure looked like one.”

  “People were crowding in on all sides. No one was moving. So, I figured”—I attempt to keep my voice light—“screaming the walls down would get them to move the hell back. Guess what? It worked.”

  “Really?” Tempest frowns. “I thought small spaces was Chase’s schtick, but maybe you two have more in common than I thought.”

  My brows pull in, but I work hard not to show Tempest just how interested I am in Chase trivia.

  A slow, lupine grin spreads across Tempest’s face as he watches me battle for indifference. “The guy never takes elevators. Go ahead, try and make him.” Tempest leans toward me, stretching his eyes wide. “I dare you.”

  A tingle of … something … rushes up the center of my back, and I quickly glance away from Tempest and his weird allure.

  I face my computer, subtly minimizing the articles I had up. “Is there a reason you’ve come to chat with Briarcliff’s social pariah?” I risk another glance. “Or is that why you’ve sat down next to me? To let me know exactly how my behavior at the party went over with the school? Spoiler alert: I’m aware.”

  Tempest doesn’t answer. Instead, his fingers drift over my bandaged hand, and my instant, tense reaction causes me to wheeze against the pain of stretching raw skin.

  “That must’ve hurt,” he muses, but doesn’t draw his hand back. “Was it worth it?”

  I lick my lips. “I don’t know.”

  Tempest makes a murmuring sound of agreement, and thankfully, withdraws. My shoulders sag in relief at the distance he puts between us, however small.

  Tempest reaches down and sets his bag on the table, languidly searching through, then pulling out his computer and schoolbooks.

  I watch all this in horror as the rest of the students using Sunday for studying stare at us and whisper to their friends.

  “Um, what are you doing?” I ask.

  “What does it look like?”

  I resist an annoyed scoff. “You’re at the wrong table. Isn’t the trust fund seating section over there?”

  Tempest runs his tongue along his top teeth. “All my trust fund baby friends have gotten themselves sent into time-out.” He bats his lashes at me. “I’m lonely.”

  “Last I checked, Riordan isn’t suspended. Go bother him.”

  “Rio’s otherwise engaged.” Tempest’s smile is directed at his laptop as he flips it open, but it grates against my nerves nonetheless.

  A ripple of guilt follows. I should check up on Ivy. I pull out my phone to do just that, but Tempest covers it with his large hand before I can so much as unlock it.

  “Hey!”

  “I wouldn’t do that, possum. Take a few days before you face the consequences of your actions. Trust me, it’s a lot better to judge your foibles at a distance.”

  I yank the phone—and my hand—from under his. “I don’t care what everyone here has to say. I care about my friend.”

  “And so do I. Which is why I’m sitting here instead of getting my dick sucked off like Rio probably is.” He pauses. “Hmm. Now I’m jealous.”

  “Ugh. Stop pretending like you care about me and buzz off.”

  Tempest’s red-carved lips split wide, genuine laughter leaving his throat. “Have I brought out the worst in you by buzzing into your proximity?”

  “Okay, fuck off.”

  Tempest flicks a brow in response before his expression turns rigid. “Apologies, but I can’t.”

  “Why not? I didn’t ask you—”

  “Your opinion of my presence means shit-all, but unfortunately—for both of us—the opinion of someone else is written in stone.”

  I fake gag at his pun, but I stiffen at his insinuation. “Chase told you to sit with me? Why?”

  “Haven’t you heard? Chase got himself suspended for defending your honor.”

  I unleash another sigh, this one with a long, drawn out exhale. “Chase wouldn’t help me even if I was stuck under the wheels of his car.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, possum.” Tempest shifts in his seat to get more comfortable. “He’s sacrificed quite a lot for you.”

  “Oh, come on.”

  Tempest shrugs. “Believe what you want, but I’m your Siamese twin for the better part of the week. Get used to me.”

  I groan. “Why? I don’t need protection when Chase is here, never mind when his ass is kicked off school grounds for a week.”

  Tempest responds in a cold, flat tone, “I beg to differ.”

  My jaw clenches at the ice he’s directed my way. Tempest has always been calm and undeterred, but I’ve never heard him summon so much winter in his voice.

  I part my mouth, but Tempest prevents any defense by resting his gaze on my browser displaying the preservation tactics for damaged books, making sure I see him do it, then going back to his work.

  Dang. I forgot to close the last tab.

  “You’re pissed about the rule book, too?” I ask. “Riordan already had me sacrifice skin. What is it you now want?”

  Tempest chuckles, but his attention is on his calculus text he’s propped on his lap while he leans back, balancing his chair on the two back legs. “What I want doesn’t matter. Accept our buddy system and move on. Maybe do some homework instead of becoming Briarcliff’s latest Ghostbuster.”

  I latch on to his unintended meaning. “So, you’re saying there was someone before me who tried to figure out the Nobles, too, huh?”

  Tempest groans. “You’re worse than the paparazzi surrounding my parents’ compoun
d.”

  My eyes cut to his. “Only you would call—”

  But I’m cut off by a sudden, shattering scream ricocheting around the room.

  15

  This time, it’s not me.

  Tempest vaults from his chair, shoving his textbook against my chest, but I shake off the obstruction and sprint after him, toward the sound.

  The cry came from the rear, behind the stacks and nearer to the back wall. Tempest streaks into one of the aisles, and I follow suit, both impressed and frustrated at his speed, since he’ll get there first.

  I swing around the corner in time to see Tempest hunched over a figure puddled on the floor, her bare knees drawn to her chest, and her arms folding around her head as she sobs.

  Falyn stands nearby, fingers tapping against her lips, with Willow at her side, murmuring something as she types into her phone. Their third musketeer, Violet, stands behind Falyn, watching the scene unfold with wide, too-bright blue eyes.

  Violet notices me first, her shocked gaze holding mine. She mouths what I think is run, but I can’t be sure.

  “Addy,” Tempest says, rubbing the hunched girl’s back. “What is it? What happened?”

  She lifts her head and wails, “The-the police!”

  Her face is blotchy and streaked with tears, the pale, robin’s egg color of her irises made stark against the bloodshot whites of her eyes.

  Chase, I think. Unreasonably. Stupidly. Something’s wrong.

  I step into their aisle, and I know the instant Addisyn notices me, because blood floods her cheeks and she clutches Tempest’s arm.

  “What’s she doing here with you?” she shrieks. “She’s the reason—”

  Tempest shushes her, then raises his chin to her friends. “Anyone want to tell me what the fuck this is, or am I supposed to read the room?”

  Falyn shakes her head, her fingers drifting to her neck. “I … I’ve got nothing, other than this must be the Harrington way…”

  “BITCH!” Addisyn snarls, rearing from the ground with her nails drawn, but Tempest pushes her down by the shoulders.

  “Jack,” I whisper. When I inadvertently get Addisyn’s attention, I say, clearer, “Jack is the reason you’re upset, isn’t he?”

  “And just what in the good Lord’s name is going on back here?”

  The librarian, Mrs. Jenkins, comes up behind me, patting my shoulder as she passes by. “Have you lot never heard of the sanctity of a library?”

  Tempest rises smoothly out of his crouch. “A simple misunderstanding, ma’am. We’ll be quiet.”

  “I sure hope so. You had me running in heels all the way back here. Everyone okay?”

  We all nod, everyone except for Addisyn, her expression hewn with trembling, spasming muscles.

  “Any peeps out of either one of you, you’re cleaning litter off the grounds for one week. Am I clear?”

  We nod like good little soldiers, Falyn adding extra oomph in her good-girl facade, and wait for Mrs. Jenkins to depart.

  She doesn’t.

  With the type of glare mastered solely by over-worked and underpaid teachers, she stares down her nose at us, her glasses perched on the end. “If I were you,” she says, “I’d scatter.”

  I spin on my heel, unwilling to garner any more attention or detention, and head back to my table. I’m almost through the aisle of books before a hand claws into my elbow and whips me around.

  “What the hell do you know about Jack, possum?” Falyn whisper-yells, her usually beautiful, storm gray eyes tightened into beady little balls.

  “Lucky guess,” I say, trying to pull my arm from her hold. She doesn’t give an inch.

  Falyn glances down at the bandage around my wrist and palm. In one vicious maneuver, she clasps the gauze, digging her nails in deep.

  I choke on my yowl, my knees buckling.

  Falyn bends with me, dipping her head close. “Tell me how you know that name, since we, as Addisyn’s support system, have only just heard of it.”

  “Callie has connections,” a voice says quietly. I unscrunch one eye enough to see that it’s Violet. “She knows a detective. Now let her go.”

  “I say extend the pain,” another voice, Willow, says at my back. She must’ve gone down a separate aisle, then U-turned into this one to watch the encore to Addisyn’s show. “She clearly gets off on it, if last night is any indication. Who knew fire play was a thing? Is Chase into it?” Willow smiles as she enters my view. “Can I ask him? Maybe I’ll add hot candle wax to our role play. Aren’t those little freckles around his dick just the cutest?”

  I flinch at Willow’s accuracy, but there’s nothing I can do about it, not when Falyn twists me at an unnatural angle and Willow’s strangling my heart.

  It’s not like Chase was a choir boy when I met him. He played, he lured, and I experienced firsthand how well he knew his way around a woman’s—

  Willow dips forward just enough to whisper in my ear, “He asked for me, just last night. Turns out he was frustrated as all hell and needed to … vent. God, I’m sore.”

  She giggles, and Falyn smiles along with her, snide and domineering.

  “Stop,” Violet says, and puts a hand on Falyn’s arm. “Hasn’t there been enough violence to last us the year?”

  “Not even close.” Falyn exposes her teeth. “I’m about done entertaining this bitch’s Nancy Drew fetish. Why aren’t we allowed to off her already?”

  The succinct way Falyn asks about my death should have me worried, but mean girls are at a whole new level in this school. I have no doubt she wants to punt me over the nearest cliff, uncaring of the fact that her supposed best friend recently died from falling off one.

  “Jack is Addisyn’s boyfriend. He works at the lobster shack in town,” I say, pushing against Falyn’s hold. We’re in a weird sort of arm war, and my burn screams to be released. “And the reason Piper got pregnant. He’s been brought in for questioning. Right? That’s what has Addisyn so upset. Her boyfriend cheated on her, impregnated her sister, and probably murdered Piper. I’d scream in a library, too, if I heard that news.”

  Abruptly, Falyn releases her hold, and I clutch my pulsing forearm to my chest, backing away from this half-circle of vultures.

  “Maybe Chase was right,” Violet whispers to Falyn.

  The statement causes Falyn’s brows to shadow her eyes as she stares at me. “Unless you decide to use the limited space in that brain of yours for actual study subjects,” she says to me, “Your time at this school is ending. Make the right choice, Callie.”

  Commotion at the end of the aisle draws all our gazes, and Willow steps aside enough to reveal Addisyn and Tempest, Addisyn gripping Tempest’s waist like she has trouble even taking one step.

  “Have you guys had your fun?” she asks through a quaking lip. “Talking about me? My family? Jack?”

  “Ding ding ding.” Falyn flips her hair, her lips twisted with disdain. “You’re the talk of the school, Addy. Callie should thank you. And what you wanted?” Falyn scoffs. “You’re never going to get. Now that your boyfriend murdered our best friend.”

  Addisyn leans out to swipe, but Tempest keeps a hold on her.

  My shoulder brushes against a row of books as I attempt to sneak away from the conversation, but no one’s looking in my direction, anyway.

  I complete a one-eighty by spinning on my heel, and power-walk to my table, collecting my books and laptop as silently as possible.

  It’s amazing, how not two days ago, Falyn and Addisyn were attached at the hip. I was convinced Addisyn was being groomed as the next Piper, both in looks and poise, Falyn replacing their fallen member as easily as slipping on the Briarcliff uniform.

  Now, though … a rift has cracked open between them, and is it really all because Addisyn failed to tell them about a townie boyfriend?

  Secret boyfriend.

  Secret lover.

  Secret society.

  It’s all secrets and lies with these people.

  Hiking my
bag on my shoulders, I mull over Falyn’s not-so-subtle warning to fall in line like most students here. Ignore the strangeness and do my time in order to graduate from Briarcliff intact.

  But can I do it? Can I let these puzzle pieces I’m collecting scatter and swirl in the salt-tinged air?

  Nope. I can’t.

  And so, I switch my mind on how to best break into the chem lab after hours and not get caught.

  16

  Easier said than done.

  For the rest of the week, I’m unable to find any time to bust open Daniel Stone’s half-destroyed rule book, Falyn’s warning becoming all too real with surprise quizzes, an oral Spanish test, and English Lit paper round-ups.

  To add to the fuss, our new History professor, Miss Carroll, isn’t nearly as amicable and endearing as Dr. Luke was—err, save for his preference of sex with minors—and she sends all our spines rigid, her voice crackling throughout the classroom, the loose skin around her smoker’s throat trembling like a turkey’s gullet.

  I find myself fascinated by it and can never look away.

  Tempest, as he promised, stays close to my side from Monday to Friday, taking Chase’s vacant seat if it happens to be closer to mine. And it is, in almost every period.

  The electricity dancing across the outlines of my body are missing without Chase nearby, but besides Miss Carroll’s unnaturally old appearance, I’ve developed an advantageous tunnel vision where I’m focused and determined, paying attention in class and finishing my homework a few hours after dinner.

  News of my freak-out at Chase’s party came as a big wave on Monday but was low tide by Tuesday morning, considering the irresistible ripeness of Jack’s arrest, Piper’s betrayal against Addisyn, and Emma’s sudden appearance in their classrooms were juicy, low-hanging fruit.

  Emma and I have two classes together, and each time she came in, whether she was seated there before everyone else or coming in after, the room always stilled, and the students unleashed everlasting stares. She handled it for a few days by glaring and snarling at anyone who got too close, but eventually, I noticed how the attention kept chipping away at her, her snarls becoming sneers, then nothing at all.