by Maggie Hall
He held up a hand. “The Hersch family started both World Wars. Not everything each family does represents us as a whole.”
I set down the lotion. Having business and political leaders in the families—and even rigging elections—sounded almost plausible, but if he’d been teetering on the edge of the “makes frightening sense” cliff before, he’d just launched himself off.
“Avery!” Luc’s voice echoed up the stairs. Jack and I both froze. “We’re hungry. Are you ready to go?”
I’d forgotten Luc and Stellan were still waiting to go to dinner, of all things. I cracked the door. “Almost!” I yelled. “Give me one more minute!”
I turned slowly back to Jack. I wasn’t sure what would be worse—if he was messing with me, or if he really believed this.
“I think I’ve heard this conspiracy theory,” I said carefully. “New World Order, right? A small group of really powerful people who run the whole world behind the scenes.”
“Yes,” he said.
“So . . . you’re telling me that’s what you are.” I could hear the condescension in my voice, like I was talking to a kid playing make-believe.
“That’s exactly what we are.” He was looking at me like he wasn’t sure what I’d do, and I realized he’d gotten himself between me and the door, trapping me inside.
I ran my fingertips over the subtle damask of the wallpaper, letting it ground me in reality. “You know that’s not real, right? That’s why they call it a conspiracy theory, and not a fact.”
“And it’s very convenient for us that that’s what the world believes. Avery, listen. I promise, I’ll explain it all. But we have to go before Stellan and Luc—”
This time I was the one holding up a hand. “So you’re actually trying to get me to believe one of the families started both World Wars,” I said. “And the other eleven . . . participated?”
“Of course.” He paced the room again, like a professor lecturing to a class. “The families had to take sides. You know the history of which countries lined up where. You just don’t know that each of those countries had a family of the Circle behind it. Trust me, things would have gotten much worse if we hadn’t. And it’s not only history.” He plunged ahead, seeming to gain steam. “Even now, some of the Middle Eastern families . . . Well, they’re difficult. And you see how the ramifications of that bleed into the world. Or sometimes, certain families use their influence to modify the stock market. Or banking interests.”
“Modify.” Now, that made sense. Rich people manipulating the stock market I understood. “So if strapless dresses aren’t flattering on a Circle member, they can put halters on the cover of Vogue and make them popular instead?” I asked, not sure whether I was joking or not. I glanced accidentally at the bloody gold dress.
“If they cared about that, then yes. Absolutely.” Jack rubbed the back of his neck. I could see his compass tattoo through his sleeve.
“This is all insane, you know,” I said. “You sound like one of those paranoid people on the Internet telling everyone to wear tinfoil hats. Next you’re going to tell me you killed JFK.”
Jack looked up. “Not me personally.”
My mouth fell open.
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t funny. But . . . there were reasons for it.” Jack shot me an almost-sympathetic look. “I’m sure it must seem absolutely mad from the outside, but it’s the reality of our lives. Of everyone’s lives,” he said quietly. “The world doesn’t operate like most people think it does. I’m telling you the truth.”
It did seem absolutely mad. But I couldn’t help thinking about my original suspicions. Mafia, or politicians. Wasn’t that kind of what he was describing? Politician-mafia. On a huge, huge scale. I crossed my arms over my chest, only partially to hide the fact that my hands had begun to tremble again.
“So what you’re saying,” I ventured, “is that Stellan wasn’t exaggerating at the prom when he said the Circle runs the world.”
“Avery!” Luc’s footsteps clomped up the stairs, and I snapped my mouth shut.
Jack started to open the door. “You’re coming with me to the Saxons,” he murmured.
I ducked in front of him. “Sorry, I’m throwing up,” I called down the stairs. “You probably don’t want to come up here.”
The footsteps stopped abruptly. “Oh,” Luc said. “Um. Is Jack still with you?”
I glared at Jack and nodded at the door. He frowned. “I’m sitting outside to make sure she’s all right. She’s a little shaken up,” he called, and I pulled him back inside and slammed the door. We were both right. I was shaken up, and I was thisclose to being sick.
“Let’s pretend for one second this is true,” I said once Luc’s footsteps had retreated. The music came back on and switched from Bach to some kind of French hip-hop. “Why would these Order people care about me? There have to be a ton of Circle members more important than a teenage girl.”
Jack sat on the tiny vanity chair and propped his elbows on his knees. “The Order is an opposition group. They don’t think the Circle should have as much power as they do. They’ve been a thorn in our side for a long time, and they’ve been ramping up their efforts against us recently.”
I made my way to the warped window and stared outside as the afternoon light faded to evening.
Jack took a breath and continued. “Where you come in is with something called the mandate.”
The word hit me like a punch to the gut. I closed my eyes, suddenly feeling like I’d been waiting my whole life to hear this. A thrill of fear flared through me. “What exactly is the mandate?” I finally said.
“The mandate . . .” Jack buttoned and unbuttoned one cuff. “If you don’t believe the rest of it, you’ll find this ridiculous, but the mandate is like a prophecy. Among other things, it gives us a way to subdue the Order.”
I stared at him. “A prophecy? You’re right. I don’t believe you.”
“It has a lot of basis in history, and—”
“How?” Now I was the one pacing. “How is this mandate supposed to work?”
“‘The rightful One and the girl with the violet eyes . . . ,’” Jack said. “That’s the most important line. And the line the Order cares about says, ‘the means to vanquish the greatest enemies.’”
“The greatest enemies are the Order.”
Jack nodded.
“And that’s why they’d want this violet-eyed girl killed, to make that impossible.” I’d already started to assume that my mom’s mandate and the Circle’s mandate were not two different things. That when I’d heard her mention that word on the phone so long ago, she made up that that’s what her work orders were called to keep me in the dark about my father’s family.
But now I couldn’t stop thinking about all the times she got weird. Got nervous. And then we’d move. I’d always attributed her anxiety to work, but hearing this, I had to wonder if she hadn’t just been keeping the Circle from me, but had actually been going to a lot of trouble to keep us from them, and from the Order.
I traced a crack in the tile floor with one foot. “Why would they think I’m the specific purple-eyed girl the mandate is talking about?”
Jack’s jaw tensed. “The thing is, very few females get the gene for the violet eyes. Almost everyone who’s ever had them is male. A girl with the purple-eyes gene is about to be born, to the Dauphins.”
“But . . . ?” I knew a but was coming.
“But, until the Dauphins’ baby is born, you are the only girl with purple eyes in the world.”
I leaned hard against the windowsill. “That’s—” I was about to say that was impossible, but really, compared with the rest of this, was it? “Let me make sure I’m understanding,” I said, feeling shaky again. “What you’re telling me is that, one”—I held up a finger—“you’re part of a world-controlling secret society. Two, there’s an opposing
secret society. Three, you need me, because of the color of my eyes, to stop them, and therefore, they want me dead.”
“That would be the simplified version, yes. And now you understand why you have to come to the Saxons. You’ll be safe there.” He started to open the door again.
“I don’t think I want to go to them,” I said to my own reflection in the mirror.
Jack rubbed his temples. “I have to take you to them. There is no scenario in which anything else would be a good idea, for anyone. You don’t understand everything at play here.”
I understood that all this time, my mom and I were literally on the run for our lives. For my life. Add that now I’d put myself back in the crosshairs of the people we were running from and a powerful group who wanted to use me.
There was one thing I had to ask. “So are you saying my father was not a Saxon?”
“Not was. Is. Obviously our intel was wrong. Your having purple eyes means that your father is not only living, he could be the head of any of the families of the Circle.”
“He’s alive?” I gripped the edge of the sink. And if they were wrong about that, he might not even know I existed. “Why would the Saxons have thought I was their relative?”
“Intelligence comes in all the time, from all over the world. I don’t know where this came from or why it was wrong or even exactly what it said. You’ll still be safest with the Saxons,” Jack continued. “I promise. And we can contact Fitz and see what he meant by that message.”
My father wasn’t dead. I let that sink in for just a second before I snapped out of it. Allowing myself to be taken in by the Circle without understanding exactly what I was getting into would be beyond stupid. I had no room to be blindly optimistic anymore.
Jack was standing at the door, like there was no doubt I’d follow him. Yes, I was grateful that he’d finally told me the truth, but it wasn’t enough.
I had to get out of here. Get in touch with my mom. Decide what to do next.
But how? Jack would never let me get away again if he had the choice. I glanced at the window. The bathroom was one story up. Too high to jump, but maybe there was a fire escape. I could get him to leave me alone for a second, and run.
And then what? My mom wasn’t answering her phone. I couldn’t jump in a cab to the airport and fly home without a passport. Maybe I could go to the American embassy?
But the embassy was a government organization. They probably reported to the Circle.
Oh God. Did this mean I believed all of it?
Two sets of footsteps started up the stairs. Too late.
Jack flung open the door. I was surprised to see Stellan in slim dress pants and a button-up shirt, with a jacket slung over his arm. The furious light in his eyes had faded, replaced by a scowling suspicion. Luc was in a light gray suit with the salmon-colored shirt underneath, grinning, and they both smelled too good for what had happened earlier. Behind them, Elodie, Madame Dauphin’s supermodel assistant, waited, tapping her foot.
“She’s ready to go,” Jack said, with a silencing stare at me, “but I’m going to take her to the Saxons’ hotel. She needs some rest, and to meet her family as soon as they arrive.”
Even with all the guards at the Louvre, I’d have a better chance of escaping from Luc and Stellan and the Dauphins—who knew nothing about me—than from Jack.
“Maybe I should stay with them, meet you tomorrow,” I said to Jack. I tried to make my voice breezy. “I already have a room at the Dauphins’ and everything. It’ll be easier.”
His eyes could have set me on fire, but I knew he couldn’t say anything.
Luc threw a lanky arm around my shoulders. I couldn’t help but stare at his violet eyes. “Stay. You can come out to the club,” he said, like the whole world hadn’t just changed. For them, I supposed, it hadn’t.
Stellan pushed open the door, and he and Jack stepped to the landing. I ducked out from under Luc’s arm and he headed out, too, leaving me in the bathroom. If I acted fast, I could slam the door and have some chance of escaping before they realized what was happening.
“Where are you going?” I kept my voice light, but my hand crept to the deadbolt.
“Istanbul,” Luc said.
“Istanbul?” I said. “That’s a club?”
“It’s a city,” Elodie said from down the stairs. I could tell the words came with an eye roll.
“I know it’s a city,” I said. Luc chuckled. “Wait. You don’t mean you’re going to Istanbul, the city. In Turkey. To go to a club.”
“Which is why you probably shouldn’t go,” Jack said. “You’re exhausted.”
I was, but I was far more desperate. And I’d just gotten an idea.
Istanbul. Half in Europe, half in Asia, home to some of the world’s most impressive art and architecture. Mr. Emerson’s last postcard to me was from Istanbul. Jack said he had an apartment there. If I couldn’t reach my mom, maybe I could find him. The two of them were the only people in the world I trusted right now.
My hand fell away from the door.
“The plane’s supposed to leave in half an hour and we’re grabbing dinner on the way,” Luc said, “so if you’re coming, let’s go.”
“If she’s coming, we have to get her a dress,” Elodie called up. “Something more interesting than what they’ve got in this store.”
I stepped out onto the landing and let the bathroom door swing closed behind me.
“Istanbul sounds great,” I said, ignoring Jack’s death glare. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 16
Somewhere between shopping at Prada and clubbing in Istanbul, the rest of the adrenaline had worn off and reality set in. I plucked at the bandage on my shoulder while Luc talked to the club bouncer. Hundreds of people stood in a line that snaked away underneath a white version of the Golden Gate Bridge. I watched them all, paranoid. If the Order could find me at Prada, they could find me here.
Somehow, I had actually come to believe what Jack said about the Circle. It made no sense, but that’s why it was the only thing that did. I was standing here in a very expensive dress, after having flown across Europe in a private jet, and I had to get away from some really powerful, really motivated people who wanted me dead.
And that was if Stellan or Luc or Elodie didn’t figure out who I was and lock me up first.
I’d also realized on the plane that I had no idea where Mr. Emerson—I couldn’t start thinking of him by a different name—lived. Not an address, not even a phone number. As soon as I had a second alone, I’d have to Google him and see if I could find anything.
“If you pick that bandage off, it’s going to get infected,” Elodie said, and I jumped. My reflexes were still set on fight-or-flight.
“It’s fine.” I crossed my arms.
Elodie went back to studying her tangerine fingernails. “You got stabbed. Who knows where that knife had been?” With her light French accent and her throaty voice talking about stabbing, she sounded very femme fatale.
Stellan came up beside us. In contrast to his pointed-but-lighthearted banter this morning, he had barely talked to me since Prada, but he had spent the whole plane ride scrutinizing me. He couldn’t know the truth yet, but I could tell he hadn’t bought Luc’s “wrong place wrong time” explanation for my drawing the Order’s attention. He’d put two and two together eventually. I had to be out of here before he did.
“She’s right, kuklachka,” he said. Even the nickname had lost its playful edge. “The Order—and their weapons—are nasty things. It’s a shame for a random innocent to get mixed up with them.”
I tensed, but gave what I hoped was a noncommittal shrug and busied myself picking at invisible lint on my dress. A Herve Leger bandage dress, Elodie had called it. From afar I would have called the color champagne, but up close, it was white, shot through with shimmering silver and gold threads. It was th
e exact dress Krissy Silver had worn to the Grammys a couple of months ago—Elodie said she’d chosen this specific dress because the singer and I had the same pale complexion and dark hair. I wasn’t sure whether it was supposed to be a compliment or not.
Elodie had paired the dress with four-inch copper Louboutin heels—all the girls at my school in New York had been obsessed with Louboutins, and I never would have expected to have a pair on my feet. We’d stood at the bar mirror in the plane while she teased my hair into wild bed-head waves, all the while making it clear that she was playing stylist only because she didn’t trust me to do it properly on my own.
Elodie wore a faux-leather minidress, and had pinned her blond bob half up. Her dangling earrings shimmered when Stellan murmured in her ear, and then she glanced at me and her almond-shaped eyes narrowed. I pretended not to notice, but my stomach flipped nervously.
I was saved from further questioning when Luc gestured, and I followed the three of them past the line and inside.
Mr. Emerson was fascinated by the history of Istanbul, and had taught me about it when I was younger. It had been called Byzantium when it was first founded, then renamed Constantinople when Constantine took it over. It was such an important city politically and geographically that it had been conquered and claimed by empire after empire ever since. It wasn’t officially called Istanbul until really recently, in the 1930s.
Istanbul had always been a crossroads city. A crossroads between Europe and Asia. A crossroads of Christianity and Islam, like the Hagia Sophia itself. A crossroads between ancient and conservative, like that museum, and modern and anything but conservative, like this club.
I squeezed the shoulder strap of my bag, wondering what kind of crossroads the city would be for me tonight.
Luc and Stellan disappeared into the crowd. I considered doing the same—I didn’t really want to be alone right now, just in case the Order had followed me, but I didn’t particularly want to be with Elodie, either. And I really needed to look up Mr. Emerson. But it’d probably look suspicious, so I followed Elodie across the dance floor, breathing the humid, heavy air that comes from too many bodies in too small a space. She and Luc had cracked a bottle of champagne on the plane, and even though I hadn’t had any, I wasn’t sure it was possible to feel entirely sober in a club. Between the lights and the unbuttoned dress shirts and the glistening bare shoulders and the driving beat of the music that got under your skin even if you weren’t dancing, I was swaying by the time we got to a tall bar table where the lights flashed a little less brightly.
