by Tamar Sloan
“I asked the guide, but he told me to keep my hands to myself and took us into the next room. The house is a historic site of some sort that’s been turned into a tourist attraction.” Her face crinkles in frustration. “I should’ve paid more attention.”
Arielle grips the star, the pointy tips digging into her palm. “You couldn’t have known…”
How could any of them when this all feels so impossible?
Gabby is watching her closely. “What are you going to do, Ari?”
If Aunt Shell was answering that question, she’d tell Arielle to stay home. She’d probably point out all the parts of this puzzle that don’t fit. Her mother never would’ve got involved in something as mystical or intangible as all of this. Her mother is firmly grounded in reality.
But… She glances at her boots. Hitsuzen. None of this was a coincidence.
“Mom wanted me to find this journal and this symbol.” She looks at her. “In fact, no one else could’ve discovered it.”
Only Arielle and her mother knew the rules of their made-up board game.
“She wanted me to find this.” She pushes to her feet. “Which means she wants me to know what it means.” She reaches down to help her cousin up, too. “I think we should visit this tourist attraction and check out the library again. See if we can get some answers.”
Gabby blinks, then a dazzling smile spreads across her pretty face. “Great idea.”
For the first time since her mother’s disappearance, Arielle feels a sense of purpose. That she’s not quite so lost. She leads the way out of the attic, and they climb back down the ladder. There’s a soft thud as the ladder slots back into the ceiling.
“Girls, is that you?” Aunt Shell calls from the living room.
Before she can answer, Gabby grips Arielle’s wrist. Arielle turns to find her cousin frowning. “Are you sure?
Yes.
Arielle’s about to tell Gabby that even Trinity approves, but her cousin interrupts her.
“Maybe you should sleep on it?”
Now that Gabby seems to be having second thoughts, Arielle finds herself hesitating. Her mother wouldn’t want her rushing into anything. But before Arielle can respond, the sound of the news reaches down the hall. Both girls’ eyes widen, and they follow the sound of the male anchor.
Police continued to be baffled by the abductions of multiple women across Mercy City. These victims are our mothers, sisters—
The moment Aunt Shell sees them in the doorway, she presses the remote, and the TV blinks off. Pasting a bright smile on her face, she turns to them. “So, do you need more cloths?”
Arielle turns to Gabby, her face resolute. “I’m sure.”
11
Reign
Reign shakes his head emphatically. “No freaking way.”
He turns to head back to the hangout, not surprised when Mac doesn’t follow him.
She places her hands on her hips. “What else have you got to do today?”
“That’s what I told myself yesterday when Darnell and Rico needed a getaway driver,” Reign retorts.
“Don’t you want an explanation for what’s happening to you?”
Reign’s hands fly out in exasperation. “I have an explanation!”
Mac pushes her face close to his, her brown eyes flashing. “One that doesn’t involve you thinking you’re a loser with a one-way ticket to self-destruction.”
Reign scowls. “One of us has to be a realist, here.”
“The day I was there, the Professor rushed off because she found that Joseph’s descendants, and this organization of his, had a headquarters of some sort. It’s an old mansion on the outskirts of town that’s now been turned into a museum for tourists.” Mac jabs her finger into his chest. “I think we should check it out.”
“I don’t get it, Mac. Since when did you believe in this sort of thing? I mean, we’re talking about the stuff of legends here.” Reign shoots his arms out to encompass their surroundings. “Our parents are either dead or loved drugs more than us. We’re a paycheck for our foster carer. We steal to survive. We don’t live in a world of miracles and happy endings.”
Reign’s almost panting by the end of his tirade. They face off for long seconds, both glaring in a silent battle of wills. Reign knows he’s made a point when Mac’s dark gaze falters.
For some reason, it doesn’t feel like a win.
“You’re right. Our trajectory has been mapped out by countless do-gooders.” She juts out her chin. “So what have you got to lose?”
Reign blinks, then shakes his head ruefully. “Man, you should study law or something. You’re relentless.”
Mac shrugs, tucking a stray curl back up into her ponytail. “Why, thank you.” She smiles. “I think we’ll catch the bus for this trip.”
Sinclair Manor touts itself as Mercy City’s historical place to be. As Reign and Mac walk up the paved driveway, Reign takes in the manicured gardens. Perfect lawns. Symmetrical lines. Shrubs primped and pruned into perfect domes. Heck, it even has a fountain out the front with a marble angel in the center.
A little part of him wants to kick a few stones out of place.
“Don’t even think about it,” Mac mutters.
Reign opens his eyes wide. “What? I wasn’t going to.”
Mac snorts. “Sure you weren’t.”
They pause as they reach the front of the house. A sign out the front is advertising a guided tour that starts in ten minutes. Reign’s jaded eyes scan the large, stone mansion. A white porch frames the entrance, shading the planters overflowing with flowers scattered on the timber deck. White shutters frame each window, every slat dazzling and…perfect.
Reign crosses his arms. “We don’t belong here, Mac.”
“But we belong in a decaying house that nightmares could comfortably live in?”
Reign doesn’t bother to answer. For him, the question is rhetorical.
A No Access sign catches his eye. To the left of the house is what looks like a large stone tower. The circular structure rises several feet above the house, almost reminiscent of a castle turret. Its stonework is darker and more aged.
“Now that’s where I’d feel more comfortable,” Reign says as he points.
“I’m pretty sure the No Access sign is what sold you on it.” Mac rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t be surprised if ‘rules were meant to be broken’ were your first words.”
Reign chuckles. “I prefer the word ‘challenged.’”
They ascend the steps of the porch and a stand with leaflets greets them in the sweetly scented shade. Mac takes one and quickly scans the information.
Reign shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure your first words were ‘take me to the library.’”
Mac throws him a dry glance before returning to the leaflet. “There are fourteen bedrooms. Five bathrooms. A library. A kitchen. A loft. And something called a parlor.”
“Did this Professor give you any idea of what you’re looking for?” Reign glances at his cell phone. “This place closes in an hour.”
Mac chews her lip in thought. She glances at the sign they passed when they entered and her face lights up. “We should do a tour.”
“I most definitely do not want to do a tour.” He takes a step back. “We came, we saw this was a bad idea, we left.”
“We most certainly did not,” Mac huffs. “We came, we proved I was right, then we left.”
“You are going to be so disappointed,” Reign warns.
He’s bat shit crazy. It’s as simple as that.
A young man with perfectly parted blond hair opens the front door, looking surprised to find them there. “Oh, I was just checking if there was anyone else for the tour.”
Mac loops her arm through Reign’s and hauls him close to her side. “My boyfriend and I can’t wait!”
The man’s gaze flicks to Reign then pauses. “Of course.” He plasters a smile on his face and opens the door even wider. “Welcome.”
Mac’s arm tighten
s around Reign’s. She noticed how false the guy’s tone was.
And she knows it’s already got Reign’s back up.
She smiles sweetly. “Thank you.” She tugs on his arm and for a second Reign considers connecting with his inner mule. The stubborn one.
“Come on,” Mac coos. “There’s no need to be shy.” She turns to Reign, talking through her teeth. “Or scared.”
Reign’s spine stiffens. He strides through the door, taking Mac with him. “Bring on the tour.”
The man throws them a stiff smile then walks ahead. Reign pauses when he finds himself in an opulent room—probably the parlor—with a group of about ten people standing in the center, their murmurs infused with awe and anticipation.
He shakes his head. “I can’t believe I’m doing a tour.”
Mac wrinkles her nose up at him as she squeezes his arm. “You can thank me later.”
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” their guide says. “My name is Auden.”
“Auden?” Reign mouths.
Mac frowns at him fiercely. “Zip it,” she hisses.
“And I’ll be your guide for this afternoon.” Auden smiles far more genuinely than he did a few minutes ago. ”Welcome to Sinclair Manor, one of the oldest mansions in American history.”
Reign zones the pretentious guy out, already bored. He scans the room, noting the polished timber surfaces, the thick drapes, the sense of stepping back in time. How in the world did Mac convince him to come here?
Because he saw a man. Heck, he slammed his fist into his chest. And Mac would prefer to believe that something like the Grail Keepers exist rather than admit that Reign’s brain is broken.
A part of him admires her for that. No one has cared enough to do that for him.
Despite that, Reign’s here so Mac can face the truth. When they learn that the Professor was little more than a kook who showed a girl some attention and fed her love of knowledge, then the facts will be clear. Reign is headed for the nut house or the jail house.
Or dead, like Lance.
The guide’s—Auden’s—voice pulls Reign out of his dark thoughts. “The stone manor has survived nearly four centuries thanks to eight generations of Sinclairs. The last family owner, after dying heirless, gifted the estate to Mercy City Historical Society.”
Reign leans in close to Mac. “I don’t think ‘heirless’ is a word.”
Her only response is to elbow him.
“Now, if there are no questions, we shall move onto the kitchen and scullery.”
A hand shoots up into the air. “Is it true that the Hudson family were the original owners over those eight generations?”
“Yes,” Auden responds warmly to the pretty blonde. He’s either thinking of busting a move, or he’s excited to have found a kindred spirit.
“Which suggests that Sinclair Manor was named after Henry Sinclair, a Scottish earl who is believed to have been part of an alleged voyage to this continent about a hundred years before Columbus?”
Auden’s already straight spine looks as if a ruler just got jammed down it. “That theory has been vigorously disputed.”
“It’s just that the Templars are thought to have—”
“I’m afraid we only have time for a handful of questions,” he says sharply. “You’re welcome to discuss this after the tour.”
The crowd parts as a few people shift uncomfortably. Reign likes this girl already. That is, until he sees who’s standing next to her. Flame blue eyes connect with his and widen.
You’ve.
Got.
To.
Be.
Kidding.
12
Arielle
Anger flashes through Arielle so fast it makes her fingers prickle and her toes tingle. She skirts around the group of people and makes her way to him.
“Ari?” Gabby asks in confusion as she quickly follows her.
Arielle watches the scowl deepen on the face—the one she was hoping wasn’t as compelling as she remembered—with each step she takes.
She plants herself in front of him. “Are you stalking me?”
“Yeah,” he drawls sarcastically. “I love interacting with angry chicks who don’t listen.”
Arielle gasps, unable to remember when she felt so furious. She’s vaguely conscious of the group moving to the next room, but she remains where she is. “Well, this isn’t a coincidence.”
She’d point out the word on her boots, but it’ll only make her angrier. It’s because of him that they’re stained.
Gabby moves in close. “Was this guy giving you a hard time?”
A caramel-skinned girl slips in between them, crossing her arms as she places herself in front of the guy. “Ah, I’d like to point out it’s your friend who stormed over here, throwing around accusations.”
Arielle’s cheek flush. “He almost ran me over yesterday. I suspect in a stolen car.”
The girl’s brows hike up to her hairline. She glances over her shoulder. “Is that true, Reign?”
Reign. Arielle finally knows his name!
Reign.
Trinity seems to roll the word through Arielle’s mind, but she ignores her. Now isn’t the time to tell her to zip it.
Reign steps around his friend, throwing an amused glance at her. He doesn’t strike Arielle as someone who needs protecting.
He looks at Arielle, his gaze hooded. “If I say yes, am I on trial?”
“You should be!” Arielle shoots back.
A throat clears behind them and they turn to find Auden looking at them expectantly. This time, it’s embarrassment that flushes Arielle’s cheeks.
She smiles sweetly at him. “Sorry. We were just so fascinated by the antique mantelpiece.”
Auden waves an arm for them to follow and Arielle quickly does so, Gabby at her side. They need to get to the library, preferably without annoying the snooty guide.
But the moment she sees that Reign and his friend are right behind them, she stiffens. They enter a kitchen area and she waits until Auden starts talking again before turning to him.
“You need to leave.”
He arches a brow. “Because you were here first?”
“Because I don’t need you to ruin two days in a row,” she hisses back.
His friend steps in again, this time frowning. “We have a right to be here, just like you do.” She crosses her arms. “We’re not here just to research some history assignment.”
Reign places a hand on her shoulder. “Mac, I’ll let you know when I need a defense lawyer.” He looks to Arielle. “Which may be sooner than I thought.”
Arielle narrows her eyes at him, but before she can say anything, Gabby speaks up.
“Then what are you here for?”
Arielle startles at the question. She barely registered what Reign’s friend, Mac, had said.
Mac crosses her arms and angles her head, the ponytail of curly hair perched high on her head tilting with her. “We think this house is linked to Joseph of Arimathea and a secret organization he established. It’s possible their headquarters were here.”
Reign groans as he wipes a hand down his face. “Of course, that’s what you’d tell them…”
Arielle’s mouth pops open. “You what?”
Mac looks at her in triumph. “Put that in your essay.”
Gabby is the first to recover. “Except that’s exactly why we’re here.”
“Because of Joseph of Arimathea?” Mac asks incredulously.
They all stare at each other in shocked silence. This is about as far from a coincidence as you can get…
Reign moves first, stepping back and shaking his head. “You know what? I think you’re right, Arielle. We should leave—”
“We should work together,” Mac blurts.
Arielle is already shaking her head before Mac’s finished. In fact, she’s shaking it so vehemently, strands of her hair flick her cheeks. “Worst idea—”
“Great idea,” Gabby responds cheerfully.
>
Auden frowns in their direction. “Quiet, please.”
Arielle notices that Mac’s hand shoots out to grab Reign’s and for the first time she wonders what the nature of their relationship is. She’s certainly very protective of him. The frown she didn’t realize was stamped on her face deepens. And they’re standing very close together.
And now they’re holding hands…
Auden seems happy with their lack of response, because he turns back to the group, a dazzling smile on his face. “The dining room is next.”
He leads them down a short hallway before Arielle finds they’re in a large room furnished with dining table and chairs polished to a glossy shine. Large paintings hang on the wall in gilt frames, and the smell of beeswax hangs in the air.
“The historical society has set the table according to our thorough research,” Auden says animatedly. “The crockery is that of the original family.”
Arielle tunes him out, noting that Reign and Mac are to their left. And they’re no longer holding hands. Annoyed that she noticed that, she’s about to look away when Reign glances up.
Their gazes connect and just like the first time they met, the world dissolves away. Arielle’s breath evaporates as she feels herself being drawn into the jungle green of his mesmerizing eyes. It’s like they’re familiar. Yet startlingly new. A contradiction that calms and exhilarates her all at the same time.
Go to him.
Trinity’s voice snaps Arielle out of whatever whirlpool she was being sucked into. “Not happening,” she mutters.
Gabby glances at her. “What’s not happening?”
“I don’t think we should work with them,” she whispers back as Auden glances at them, continuing his monologue.
“Why not?”
“I don’t trust them.”
Nor does she trust herself around Reign. He brings out an irrational part of her she hadn’t known existed.
“We don’t have a choice.”
“Why?”
“Something’s going on, Ari. I know you can sense it. You need to get to the bottom of it.” She glances over to the girl, Mac. “And she knew about Joseph and the Keepers of the Grail.”
