She looks up at me, dangling in open space, horror in her eyes. “What do I do?” she whispers, as though even talking could end in a fall.
“Hold on.” With strength I don’t even know I have, straining every muscle to its snapping point, I fight to hoist her back up. Her wet hand nearly slips through mine, but I grip so hard I could break her wrist.
I will not drop Molly. I will not let her die. I don’t waste energy talking but pull with everything I have, one agonizing inch at a time, until she can finally grab the wood and climb back onto the platform.
We both collapse and let out a breath I think we started holding when the step fell.
“Well, now we know,” she pants.
“Know what?”
She lifts a shaky arm and points to the ladder. “Why we have to take unequal steps.”
Scrambling to my knees, I nod. “Skip every other step.”
“And pray.”
We do both and get to level two without a mishap, but there’s no clip on the zip line. “So this is the part where we ‘try another way.’ ”
“The way up.” Molly points.
In silence, we climb to the next platform, the wind strong enough up here for the rain, now a light shower, to sting our faces. As I poke my head through the opening to the next level, I get the best view of the woods I’ve had yet. Molly’s already kneeling on that platform looking around.
“Look, Kenz.” She points to a golden glow on the horizon.
“That’s probably the lights of Vienna. Good, that tells us where we are.” I turn and peer to the north.
“That’s the direction where the cave and that room was,” I tell her. “Where all that art is hidden.”
“I was thinking about that,” she says. “Maybe that’s why he faked his own death, because he’s some kind of international art thief.”
“And a serial killer? That’s pretty bizarre.”
“Yeah, ’cause the rest of this is so normal.”
Staring in the direction of town, I swear I see a light moving. It flashes, disappears, then flashes again. Is that Jarvis on the hunt? “Whatever he is,” I say, “he’s out there and he’s looking for us.”
I scan our platform and plan our next move. There’s one line connected to the next level, but as we examine it, we both see what we have to do to get to it—balance on a series of six logs suspended from ropes that lead to the start of the zip line.
“Holy crap,” Molly mumbles.
“Yeah,” I agree.
But we manage our way across the logs to the zip line. This time we move like a team, Molly wrapped around me, the zip-line rope firmly in my hands. When I let go, the ride seems smoother and faster, ending not on another platform but a soft mound of pine needles. We fall, safe and alive.
“I know where we are,” I say as we brush off and look around. “Levi and I were here the other day. We just have to jump that overhang where the cave is, run to the right, then the left, and straight to a road.”
“Thank God.” We bolt together to the cliff, stopping when we reach it to look over the embankment.
“Levi helped me do this,” I say. “Hold on to me and I’ll dangle you, then it’s not so far to fall.”
“ ’Kay.” She scoots down to the ground and we clamp our hands around each other’s wrists. As she gets into position, she looks at me and smiles. “Thanks for saving my life, Kenzie.”
I just nod. “We’re not out of the woods yet.”
She manages to laugh at my pun. “Seriously. You’re the best.”
I give her wrists a squeeze. “Remember that the next time you want to be popular and cool,” I joke as I let her down.
“So overrated.”
She’s swaying in the air, her sneakers about five feet from the ground. “Ready?” I ask.
“Let go.”
She falls with a soft thud, rolling under the overhang so I can’t see her. “Here I come,” I say, turning and hoping I can do this without help, like Levi did.
I get a grip on some rocks sticking out of the ground and slowly lower my body until I’m hanging. “Watch out so I don’t land on you,” I call to Molly.
Three, two, one, and I let go, hitting the ground with a jolt.
“There, now we …”
When I get up, I scan the area. “Molly?” I turn again, peering into the bushes that cover the cave. Did she go in there? “Molly?”
I push back the foliage to peer into the darkness, and hear the distant, muffled sound of running footsteps from deep inside the cave. And then, silence.
CHAPTER XXXII
It takes me no more than five seconds to decide what to do. I can’t leave. By the time I find my way out of the woods and get help, Molly could be dead.
Shoving the branches and leaves away, I’m swallowed into the blackness of the cave, longing for Levi and the light we had last time we were in here. I stick my hand straight out and shudder at the sudden cold.
I stay still, listening for any hint, any sound other than the relentless hammering of my heart, clobbering against my chest. How could he—or someone—have gotten Molly so fast?
I have one advantage: I’ve been here before. I shoot one hand out and use the other to hold on to the cold stone wall to walk through the darkness, utterly alone and wretchedly scared.
As I concentrate on each step, I follow the corridor to a lower level on the stone path, trying to imagine the footpath I’m on. I pause, my hand still on the wall, remembering the engraving.
Many are called, few are chosen.
Yes, Levi was right that it’s a Bible quote, but the phrase was also used by Romans to mean that only the elite could do something.
I let one of the trainees take the credit.
Training for what? Professional killers?
I reach the dead end, my heart sinking because there’s no sign or sound of Molly. Is she in that room? Is she still alive?
I don’t really think about whether or not to go in—it’s more about how. Remembering the force it took Levi, I place my body against the stone wall and push as hard as I can and—
It slides right open and I’m back in the museum meeting room. I think. It’s dark now, pitch black and airless. I stay perfectly still and listen for any sounds. Even … breathing.
It’s as quiet as a tomb.
I work my way along the side of the room, my arm brushing a tapestry as I move very, very slowly to not give myself away. My sneakers are silent, and I’m barely breathing, bracing for an attack at any moment.
Is there another way out of this room? Another secret door?
Gingerly, I reach over to the wall and touch a glass box, then the stone wall again. I move ahead another few feet and touch something cold and sharp. A sword. For a moment, my fingers linger on the weapon.
I close my hand over the hilt and try to lift, but it barely moves. I’m no gladiator. I can’t lift—
Gladiator! This is where that four-pronged knee-buckling thing was. The quadrant, right on this wall. I flatten my hand and inch to the right, remembering exactly where I saw the ancient weapon, my fingers touching the rough-hewn metal almost immediately.
It lifts off the hook, no more than a few pounds, and it fits fairly neatly in my hand. It’s warm and … deadly. Actually, it doesn’t necessarily kill, if I recall what I saw in the video in my Latin class. But the quadrant can bring a man to his knees, and since it’s the only weapon on this wall I can handle, that’ll have to be enough.
Tucking the quadrant into my jacket pocket, I take a few more steps, carefully navigating around a large clay vase, then—
“Hello, Mackenzie.”
The room is suddenly bathed in light and I whip around with a gasp to meet the steel-blue gaze of Rex Collier.
“We’ve never had a woman in here, let alone an expert in the classics. What do you think?”
I can barely blink or breathe, let alone think. He looms over me, taller than I remember, more regal, far more threatening.
My head is humming, questions buzzing and colliding with exclamations of fury and the need to hurt him and get out of here. But I don’t move. Does he know where Molly is? Did he take her?
“What do you think?” He gestures toward the tapestries. “They’re all real,” he says. “All in my family for centuries. Payment for the job.”
“The job?” I practically spit the words, angry at myself for even asking questions when all that matters is getting out of here alive with Molly.
“It’s dirty work, but someone—someone quite talented—can do it. This way, Kenzie.” He indicates a space in the wall between a carved bust and a glass box with a leather-bound book inside. Pausing, he points to the box, but my mind is whirring. I have to get out of here. I have to do something drastic.
“That’s the Persius Cipher.”
Can I lift a chair and hit him over the head? Hoist one of those clay vases and knock him out? I have to think, buy time, and be clever.
“The Persius Cipher?” I ask.
He gives me a smile. “You’ve heard of it, of course.”
Never in my life. “Of course. Can I see it?” Maybe if he opens the glass, I can break it and slice him.
He gives me a wary look, as if he can read my mind.
“I’ve never touched a manuscript like that before.” I try to sound convincing. Will it work on him? “Could you take it out of that box and let me examine it?”
He steps aside and opens his hands, giving me permission to go to the manuscript. I put my hands on the clear glass, saying a silent prayer of gratitude that it really is glass, not plastic. I squeeze, lift, and in one lightning-fast move, crash it against the pedestal, holding on to one long shard as I pivot, ready to dive at him.
And I come face to face with the barrel of a pistol.
Rex Collier just smiles. “Nice try, but you really need to work on your timing.” With his free hand, he touches the wall and it slides open, revealing another corridor.
So much for thinking on my feet.
He takes the shard of glass and gets next to me, the gun in my back. “Still, you get points for creativity, which we value above all else.”
I close my eyes, biting back a retort that could get me shot. Except his words are settling into my brain. “They” value creativity; “their” killings are clean. So, maybe he won’t shoot me.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Toward the house, but you can’t go to the party tonight, I’m afraid. Even though your friends are there.”
I stop short. “Molly?”
“And your boyfriend.” He sighs heavily. “I hate when we find one with such potential who can’t pass the simplest, earliest tests.” He takes a few more steps. “Then there are those who can pass every test but just can’t be lured with the astronomical amounts of money we make.” He gives me a look rich with meaning, but I’m not able to decipher what that meaning is.
Except, deep in my heart, I know. Conner.
“They’ll be gone soon,” he says, pulling me back to the moment. “Levi went back to the house with Josh, thinking that’s where you are. When he finds a drunken Molly, he’ll be taking her home in a car that is rigged to have an unexpected fire and explosion just ten minutes after he turns on the engine.” He pauses dramatically. “That leaves us with only you to deal with. One more accident.”
He pushes me toward an unexpected turn, a dark corner off the corridor.
“You’ll never get away with this. Eventually, you’ll be caught.” My voice is thick, trapped in my throat.
“We’ve gotten away with it for two thousand years. Nihil was formed in Rome, started by slaves who took money for killing noblemen as a favor to other noblemen. Nothing’s changed now. Only instead of a patrician who falls into a well, it might be a CEO in a freak biking accident, a hedge-fund trader whose private jet goes down. Assassinations are nothing new. Neither are assassins. We’re all over the world, working quietly, killing neatly, amassing fortunes for our work.”
I stare at him. “But why would you kill innocent girls?”
“Our members have to train on someone, Kenzie. That’s why we make a list of easily manipulated girls. And, of course, boys who help us manipulate them. Not all those boys know why, just that they’re getting much-needed cash. But the organization is undergoing some drastic changes and, well, Jarvis wanted to make a point. He’s my son and I brought him into the business. I have to support him.”
“Is Josh in on this?” A wave of disgust rolls over me. Did I kiss a killer? An accomplice? An assassin?
“Not fully, but Nihil is in his blood. Of course, he thinks he’s being groomed and tested for something a little less … deadly. Tonight’s one of his exams. He has to make Levi think he’s being a hero, stealing a car to drive a drunk girl home.”
Levi wouldn’t steal a car to drive a girl anywhere. Unless he thought he was saving her.
“Once that’s done, it will be time to tell Josh exactly who he is and what family he is part of. I have great hopes he’ll be overjoyed to learn his father is alive.”
Only his father. “But his mother was one of your victims, wasn’t she?”
“One of Jarvis’s victims,” Rex corrects. “In fact, getting rid of his wife was his first official training assignment with Nihil Relinquere et Nihil Vestigi. They’re all much easier after you prove yourself. We ask all trainees to assassinate someone they care about. A sort of hazing, if you will, with the same benefits. It would have been interesting to see how Josh did with you. He does care about you, you know.”
I’m sick as I process this secret society of assassins, training on innocent people. “Is it only Josh?”
“This year, yes. We haven’t had a good recruit in years.” He makes a low grunt in his chest. “Came so close two years ago. So close.”
I know exactly who he means.
He inhales slowly, as if savoring the moment. “An extraordinary young man, Conner.”
Yes, he was. I fight the urge to lunge, but only because of the gun pointed at me.
“Training is important, of course, and all the assassins of Nihil Relinquere undergo rigorous training all over the world. But recruitment is so important, and it’s my forte. That’s why we run the scholarship program, which is really a way for me to spot talent. Of course, it is a legitimate scholarship. But sometimes … I recruit.”
“And Conner?”
“Such potential,” he says again, slowing his step to look at me. “But sadly, he had morals. That will never do in this job. So he had to die.”
I ball my fists and grit my teeth. “You killed him.”
Very slowly, he reaches into his pocket and pulls something out, lifting it close to my face so I can see what he’s holding.
“No, Mackenzie. You did. Remember?” The necklace dangles from his fingertips, and my eyes immediately find the gold M with fourteen diamond chips.
I can’t breathe. I can’t move. “How did you—”
“Oh, child, that was an easy accident to arrange. You merely helped us by setting up the situation. Jarvis would have gotten your brother in the basement of that pharmacy. He was right there the whole time, shopping and watching you.”
Hate and resentment and the unyielding need to destroy him bubble up in me and make me quiver. He laughs.
“Here, take it. You can wear it when you die.” He shakes the necklace and I reach for it, closing my fingers over what has been the symbol of my brother’s death for two years.
He steps back as a noise on the floor pulls my attention. Very slowly, the stone beneath us begins to disappear, rolling away like some kind of conveyor belt, leaving a huge, gaping hole.
Deftly, Rex presses against the wall and I do the same next to him, gagging as a disgusting smell rises up.
“Odor mortis, as you linguists would say.”
The smell of dea
th.
He waves the gun toward the hole. “As I mentioned, sometimes we have to do things the old-fashioned way. So, down you’ll go, where some others have gone before you. I’d love to have you be Josh’s first true test, but we simply don’t have the time to arrange that. So … go.”
There’s nothing down there but blackness. Endless blackness.
“It’s a long drop with a lot of jutting stones,” he says as calmly as if he’s describing a walk on the beach. “Your bones will be broken by the time you hit bottom. You’ll be dead before long, I assure you.”
All the air is whooshing from my lungs and my whole body starts to shake. I don’t want to die this way. I don’t want to die any way, but definitely not this horrible, horrible way.
“We got this from the ancient Romans, too. No one knew about this form of killing until archeologists found the broken bones and, trust me, no one will know about this under my house for two thousand years, either. Now it’s your turn, Kenzie.”
The ancient Romans. For the first time, I remember the quadrant. I slip the necklace into my pocket and my knuckles brush the weapon.
“No!” I flatten against the wall. “I won’t.”
He lifts the gun. “You prefer to die first? I suppose I could grant you that, though I pride myself on never having to use a gun.”
My fingers squeeze the quadrant, meant to make a man’s knees buckle. If his knees buckled …
How can I do it? I have to get down, low enough to get to his knees … almost in that hole. I close my eyes, visualizing the video clip I’d seen of the gladiator using the quadrant and how it had to fit just under a victim’s knee.
“Don’t shoot me,” I say quietly. “I’ll just … go.”
He lifts a brow. “Think you can outsmart the system, Mackenzie? Drop down slowly, maybe not break a bone, escape somehow?”
The foul smell roils my stomach. “Yes,” I say.
“Fine.” He waves the gun. “Go.”
I consider jumping him, going for the gun, trying to push him in, but he’s a trained assassin. I’m a sixteen-year-old Latin nerd. And only a Latin nerd would know how to use this quadrant.
Very slowly, I crouch down. There’s not quite a foot of space around the hole, and the smell makes me dizzy. He doesn’t seem to mind. Of course not: this killer loves odor mortis.
They All Fall Down Page 25
