A few feet away something scurries through the brush, making me hesitate and pull closer to Levi. He’s strong, warm, and knows where he’s going, which is small comfort.
“Okay, look up there,” he says, pointing to a space about twenty-five feet wide between tall white birch trees. “That’s the line.”
I squint and look up to the treetops, some a good forty feet high. “Line of what?”
“A zip line. See? Between those two trees.”
A wire so thin it could be considered a thread links the trees, and I peer closer to see very small platforms built on thick telephone poles that blend into the trees. “You mean you ride that?”
“Yep.”
“In a safety harness?”
He laughs again as though charmed by my naïvety. “You clip a rope and hang on.”
Holy cow. “How do you get up there?”
“Climb. And follow the instructions. Here.” He takes me around the tree and lifts the gray bark like he’s peeling back skin. The words are burned into the trunk.
AUT VIAM INVENIAM AUT FACIAM
“Literally, that translates to ‘I’ll find a way or make one,’ ” I tell him, “but it’s sort of the motto for the person who doesn’t quit. How did you translate this when you did the course?”
“I didn’t, but I could tell that the way was up.” He points upward and my neck practically cracks as I follow a series of two-by-fours, each about six inches long, nailed into the tree. About halfway up, the thickest branch reaches over to the telephone pole, where there are more “steps” up to a platform. That piece of wood is about two feet wide, with no railing, no safety line, no chance a human in her right mind would climb that.
At least, not this human.
“This is how it starts,” he explains. “You climb up to the top, grab a rope, and connect it to the line and zip to the next platform. You need upper-body strength and a pair of titanium balls.”
Neither of which I have.
“And,” he continues, “when you get up there, you don’t know which line to take, since there are two or three or even more. One takes you farther into the course, the other two dead-end on the ground and you have to start over. Or quit.”
Which is what I would probably do. “How far did you get?”
“I made it through about three platforms, then—” He freezes, frowning. “Did you hear that?”
“What?”
“Shh.” He touches my lips with his fingers, peering around with narrow-eyed intensity. An engine in the distance. We’re fairly far from the road, but it sounds like …
The truck? “Let’s hide,” he says.
Using one hand, he pushes branches aside to get us through a thicket, the sound of our ragged breaths and footsteps on soft ground filling my ears.
We round a hill, avoiding any chance of high ground, and are passing more broken, bare trees when Levi stops so suddenly I crash into him. Without a word, he holds me still and we both listen. The engine is definitely in the distance now and headed the other way—but we’re deeper in the woods and lost.
“We need to get cover,” he whispers. “Long enough to use a GPS to get out of here.”
I spot a steep drop off a small cliff and we work our way there and peer over the edge. It’s about a twelve-foot drop down an embankment, but it’s protected and hidden at the bottom.
“Let me help you.” He crouches and I follow, turning and slowly letting my whole body drop over the cliff. Holding on to him, I dangle, but it’s only about five feet to the ground when I let go.
A second later, he scrambles down and drops the same way.
The sound of the engine might have disappeared, but I still feel vulnerable knowing we’re not alone in the woods, so I nestle deeper into the brush to hide.
Levi pulls out his phone and starts stabbing a GPS program and I lean back into the mound of earth, a chill snaking over me like fear.
No, that’s an actual chill. Like a draft. Curious, I turn around and push through thick branches of a bush until I realize we’re right in front of what looks like a small cave.
“Can you get satellite from in there?” I ask. “We’d be hidden.”
“Let me try.”
Branches scrape my face, but we muscle our way into the opening and right away, I feel safer.
As I get my bearings, the light of Levi’s phone allows me to look around, revealing that we’re definitely in a cave, which isn’t unusual in Nacht Woods. But this one has unnaturally smooth walls and a sense of, I don’t know, hominess to it.
My eyes catch something on the cave wall—a drawing? How cool would that be? “Levi, shine your phone over here.”
He does, and we see letters that have been carved into the stone.
“It must be part of the ropes course,” he says.
I don’t answer, my brain already in translate mode as I read:
ARS EST CELARE ARTEM.
“Meaning …‘It is art to conceal art,’ ” I say. “What the heck does that mean? Are all the clues this arcane?”
“Who knows? I couldn’t read them. Look.” He tilts the light toward the bottom of the wall. “It’s signed.”
“Jarvis,” we read together.
I blow out a breath, my head humming as I try to snap together puzzle pieces that just won’t fit even though I know they somehow do. “Jarvis Collier,” I whisper, and this time the chill is real. “Rex Collier told me he buried some stuff of his son’s out in these woods.”
“Nice, we’re in a grave,” Levi says dryly, his attention back on the phone.
“Not a grave, technically. Jarvis’s body was never found, but Rex must have made a shrine or something.”
“Either way, a grave.”
I turn to Levi, an idea brewing. “I wonder if this is, like, the end of the ropes course. If you find your way here, you’re finished—you’ve gotten to the final destination?”
He looks up from his phone. “Possibly.” He peeks around a large boulder near the wall. “This is a passageway?” he says, throwing me a questioning look.
“My answer is yes.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Mack, I wouldn’t take you for such an adventurer.”
“Color me curious. I’ll take any advantage if I have to do that course.”
His look of pure skepticism is accompanied by a low snort. “You’re not going to do that course.”
“For a scholarship to Columbia? If I have the advantage of being able to translate the clues and know how it ends?” I give him a nudge. “C’mon, let’s just see where it goes.”
He takes my hand and we inch into a dark stone corridor, barely high enough for us to stand. His phone gives us just enough light to see.
There’s a sense that we’re going downhill, though the slope is so gradual it’s hard to be sure. As we descend, it’s impossible not to notice that the walls have a finished feel and the path under our feet is made of fitted stone. This is not nature’s cave: someone deliberately created this passageway.
This is some “burial ground” for a few “things” that belonged to Jarvis. But then, rich people are eccentric.
The corridor turns again, sharply, and I catch the shadow of more words carved into the wall. “Shine the light,” I say, lifting our joined hands to indicate the wall.
MULTI SUNT VOCATI, PAUCI VERO ELECTI.
“ ‘Many are called, but few are chosen,’ ” I read.
“I know that quote,” Levi says. “It’s from the Bible. Matthew.”
It’s my turn to look skeptical. “Wouldn’t take you for a Bible reader, Levi.”
“My aunt is born again,” he explains. “That quote’s embroidered into a pillow on our sofa.” He shakes his head. “Why would someone carve that in a cave?”
“I don’t know.” We take a few tentative steps forward. “To recreate the catacombs of Rome? Maybe Jarvis was one of those classical freaks. There’s a whole subculture that tries to reenact Roman times. Like Civil War battles, only this i
s Nero and the gladiators.”
Before Levi answers, we abruptly reach a dead end. The whole thing stops with three stone walls. I’m kind of surprised by how disappointed I am. “Guess that’s it.”
“I don’t think so.” Levi kneels down to examine the bottom of one of the walls. “Look.”
I crouch next to him as he shines the phone light on another carving along the very bottom, the words tiny:
EX UMBRA IN SOLEM
“What’s it say?” he asks when I don’t immediately translate.
“Well, literally, it means ‘From shade to sunlight.’ But most of these expressions are more idiomatic than literal. My guess is that it figuratively refers to bringing things out in the open or revealing a secret.”
“I bet it opens, then,” he says, pushing on the wall.
I can’t help but laugh. “A secret door, like in the movies?”
He flattens his hands and shoves, the sound of stone scraping stone making him freeze and me take in a breath.
“Just like in the movies.” His smile is smug as I scramble to my feet to peek through the door.
Neither of us says a word.
This is no cave or grave. This is nothing anyone would ever dream would be underground in a forest.
“What is this place?” he says, but I still can’t answer as I take it all in.
The room is huge, the size of a basketball court, with a high ceiling and shadows in every corner cast by dim light from ornate wall sconces that are clearly running on electricity. The focal point is a large round table with elaborately carved highback chairs that give the place a medieval-castle feel. The table is freakishly shiny—good God, is it made of gold?
But it’s the walls that pull my attention. They are covered with tapestries and artwork and framed manuscripts and carved busts. Everything is museum quality—everything is real.
Roman swords, glass boxes of leather-bound manuscripts, weavings and paintings and something that looks like the wide leather belt of a gladiator.
My classics training kicks in when I see a carving I recognize from an art history video I had to study before Regionals. That’s Mithras, an ancient Roman god. All I remember is that they worshiped him in underground temples, which eventually became part of the catacombs.
“Mack, look.”
Levi’s behind me, staring at the center of the table. I join him to read the raised letters.
NIHIL RELINQUERE ET NIHIL VESTIGI
CHAPTER XXII
Hours later, long after Levi and I made our way out—like, hauled ass at warp speed because the place was creepy as hell—I am still thinking about all I saw and experienced.
We said goodbye, and now I’m lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling after dinner with Mom, working it all out. Or not, as the case may be. I’m fixated on one terrifying thought I don’t want to have: the guy in the truck, who was following me or Josh or that coin, has something to do with Olivia’s and Chloe’s accidents.
If they were accidents.
And if he has something to do with them, then that coin and that eerie place might, too. Maybe I should do that ropes course, if only to find out more about—
“Hey.”
I jump a foot at the voice, rolling over and blinking at Molly in my bedroom doorway. “Holy crap, you scared me.”
She doesn’t move, searching my face. “I texted you, like, seventeen times.”
Four, actually. And I just couldn’t deal with being normal around Molly since being normal around Mom had taken it out of me tonight. I dig for a smile and wave her in. “Sorry. I was out all day—”
“With Josh.”
I nod slowly, not sure how she knows that. “Yeah, for a while.”
“And Tyler Griffith.”
“He was there.” I sit up and frown, not sure why Molly sounds so weird. “Are you okay?” I ask.
She stops a few feet from my bed. “Are you?”
Not really, but I’m not ready to admit that to her. “Fine. What’s up with you?”
“What’s up with you?” she fires back.
“Molly.” My heart races as I take in the anger and uncertainty on her face. Could she know … anything? “Are you mad at me?”
She widens her eyes and gives me a “get real” look. Definitely mad.
“What did I do?”
“Kenzie, you skipped school with Josh Collier and Tyler Griffith, two of the hottest—and coolest—guys I may ever know. And you didn’t invite me.”
I almost laugh, but of course I don’t. If only she knew just how dangerous and not fun that little adventure turned out to be. “It was no big deal,” I lie. Because it was a big deal and I am not about to tell her that.
“No big deal?” Her voice rises. “I’ll tell you what is a big deal. The deal we had. You get cool and popular and start hanging out with kids who are at the top of the food chain and you bring me along. Remember? Coattails? Train? Best friends?”
She finally flops onto the bed and lets out a sigh.
“Molly, I’m sorry, it really wasn’t that much fun.”
“Oh, right. Driving around—during school—in Josh’s million-dollar Audi isn’t fun.”
“It wasn’t,” I assure her. “He drives like a freaking lunatic.”
She doesn’t seem appeased. “But Tyler Griffith? He’s so hot. I could have double-dated.”
“He’s a jerk,” I say. “I really had no idea he could be such a major douche-bag.”
Deflated, she gets more comfortable on the bed. “Where’d you go?”
“Wheeling.”
“West Virginia?” Her eyes pop. “Why?”
“They wanted booze.”
“Did you drink?”
I shake my head, my mind whirring. How much should I tell her? The story is long and complicated and kind of unbelievable. The truck, the chase, the coin. Levi. The idea of sharing it seems overwhelming, and I don’t want to.
“So what did you do?” she presses, getting closer. “Did you make out with Josh? Is he your boyfriend now?”
“No.” I can’t keep the hint of disgust from my voice.
“Don’t you like him? He’s so cute.”
“Cute isn’t everything, but he has his moments.”
“I hear he’s having some kids over to his house tonight.” She gives me a hopeful look and then gestures toward her clothes, which I only now notice are pretty cute for a school night at home. “Can we go?”
I frown and shake my head. “I don’t know anything about this. How do you?”
As soon as I ask the question, I regret it. Her eyes look hurt. “God, Kenzie, you’re not the only one with Facebook friends. I got some spillover from your newfound popularity, remember?”
“I haven’t been on Facebook since I got home.”
“You think we can go?”
“To Josh’s house?” That might be the last place on earth I want to go. “My mom would never let me.” And for once, I’m grateful.
“Just tell her you’re coming over to my house.”
“I don’t want to go,” I say honestly. “I have a ton of homework, and—”
My phone buzzes with a text. Instinct tells me it’s Levi, who I’ve been texting on and off all evening. When I don’t pick it up right away, she reaches for the phone. “Here—”
I grab it from her, not ready for a lecture about the dangers of Levi Sterling.
“Sorry!” She opens her hand and dramatically lets go. “It’s not like I haven’t read your texts before.” She angles her head and adds a meaningful look. “Before the list.”
“Stop it, Molly. Nothing’s changed.”
“Yeah, right.”
“It hasn’t.”
“Then who just texted you?”
I flip the phone over and read the name. “It’s …”
“Amanda Wilson,” she says out loud, reading over my shoulder. “Is she your new BFF now?”
“Oh, for crying out loud, Molly.” I touch the screen to read the text.
“I barely know her.”
Emergency meeting of the Sisters of the List TONIGHT.
“The Sisters of the List?” Molly almost gags on the phrase. “Who says that?”
Our favorite joke question sounds real, and pained. “I told you, it’s just a … thing.”
“Is that seriously what you call yourselves now?” she demands. “A sister with girls like Amanda Wilson and Kylie Leff?”
“Five minutes ago you wanted to go to a party with them,” I shoot back, irritated and wishing I could just text Amanda without being drilled.
“Kenzie.” Her voice lifts in a little whine. “Why are you doing this?”
“Why are you doing this?” I demand. The phone buzzes again with another text. I force myself to look at Molly and not the message. I can’t remember the last time we had a fight. Sixth grade? Seventh? But why is she acting like a baby? “I’m not allowed to have other friends?”
“You promised you’d bring me along.” She crosses her arms, a challenge in the eyes that rarely look at me in any way but with friendship. “You promised.”
“I know, but I’m not going anywhere tonight.” Another text comes in and I lose the battle, touching the screen to see this one is from Dena.
Want me to pick you up? I can be there in 10 min.
Of course, Molly reads it. “Dena Herbert?” she asks.
I nod, tapping Reply. “I’m not going anywhere tonight,” I say again, more forcefully this time.
“Even if I go with you?”
I look up from the phone without having typed a text. “Molly, I don’t want to go.”
“You don’t want to go with me,” she says.
“That’s not true. I don’t want to go out tonight.”
“Because I’m not a Sister of the List.” She mocks the name, and with good reason. But her hurt and anger and jealousy aren’t funny right now. I just look down at the phone as another text comes in, this one from Bree Walker.
Candace almost died tonight. We have to meet!
DO NOT TELL ANYONE OR YOU COULD BE NEXT.
Instinctively, I angle the phone away from Molly, staring at the words.
“I saw that,” she says softly.
“You did?” Candace almost died? My throat closes with fear. I have to know what happened.
They All Fall Down Page 17
