Ropes. Ivy mentioned ropes.
With that illustrious amount of information zinging through my mind, I move carefully forward, my fingers slipping with each forced maneuver.
When my left hand catches a sharp piece of wood, I cry out and release it on instinct, water cascading back into my lungs.
Nononono.
I struggle for another hold, kicking and thrashing, and manage to find another thin beam and hold on, angling my head to meet another small pocket of air.
Using my legs this time, I swing out, searching to hit something—hopefully a rope tied from the dock to the lake floor. I keep swinging, keep pressing forward, praying either my leg or my hands hit gold.
At last, I feel a tight, thick rope against my thigh. It’s angled, probably from one end of the dock and anchored to the floor, so I use it like a monkey and wrap my socked toes around its width to push my body up and give my hands the tiniest break. I balance on it, my knees bent under me, searching with every sense I can for the feel of a key.
I come up with nothing.
Whimpering, I pry my numbed toes off the rope and find another one.
I beg my hands to keep their strength and help me move a little bit forward, but when my foot slips and all of me falls under, I’m close to failing, instead.
Can I die for this?
My body sings its denial. My brain voices its extreme concern. I’m made up of nothing but bickering parts, my conscience and motivations ceding ground as instinct takes over.
I find another hold on the rope and push up for air, and when I do, my toe catches on a ring of something, hard and unlike the scratchy slime of the rope.
The key?
It’s near my foot. Somehow, I have to willingly release my grip on one slat, bury my face in water, and get it.
“Callie? Callie!”
The voice is above me, my one exposed ear picking up the hollow clomps of boots.
“Can you hear me?” comes a water-clogged follow-up.
“Yes!” I cry, then cough against the sloshing of water around my mouth.
“Follow my voice. I’ll get you out of there.”
I sense the sound of the voice drifting left, and I instinctively move toward it, my toes curling over the rope as I use it for a guide.
The key.
Gritting my teeth, I try one time. Just once. My legs have bent enough that I have the right balance, and if I keep my left hand on the wooden beam, gulp an inhale, and dunk low enough to…
My free hand closes on nothing but water. But I persevere, my heart hammering its extreme displeasure.
I scrabble forward as much as I can, swiping blindly for what doesn’t belong down here, scraping along the rope and searching for the object.
When I hit what feels like a ribbon tied in a bow, I don’t question it. I feel for an end, pull to unravel the knot, then grab the ribbon before it floats down, joining my shoes in their watery grave.
Sharp metal hits my palm.
I burst up with my feet, jerking off balance but maintaining it on the rope, and force my lips not to open too wide as I gasp for more briny oxygen.
“Callie!”
“I’m here! I’m coming!”
After shoving the key under my shirt and in my bra, I follow the voice all the way, ducking into the water only when I hit the next beam and have to pass under it.
Soon, there are no more beams to grip. My hand smacks against the side of the dock, searching, hoping this is the end, and when I feel a warm, calloused palm cover mine, I nearly weep with gratitude.
He pulls, and after a loud gulp of air, I let myself go under with my hand enfolded in his.
My body follows the current of his strength. I give one last push, and this time, when I curve around the dock and my head breaks the surface, I’m surrounded by the wide, empty space of air.
Sputtering, I allow hands to come under my arms and pull me up. I hear Ivy on one side, her voice so panicked that I can’t decipher what she’s saying.
A towel comes around my shoulders, and when a familiar scent envelops me, I finally open my eyes.
Chase’s face eclipses the moon as he stares down at me. He’s bare-chested with black feathers painted between his pecs. Some kind of costume for the Turkey trot tonight, a party I was hoping we’d attend together, after I met him here. Before…
I’ve been propped into a seated position, my legs splayed out, and I’m covered in emergency blankets from the boathouse. He swipes his hands down my cheeks, cupping my jaw, his expression urgent. But his eyes are dark with fury.
I’m certain he doesn’t say anything because he’s too overcome with rage to speak. His lower lip trembles with the same emotion, his jawline rigid and sharp as a knife. He slides one arm under the backs of my knees and the other around my shoulders—
“No,” I choke out, despite the shivering, visceral need to fall into his arms and lay my head on his chest. “I can stand.”
“You sure?”
His words are soft but laced with a gathering storm.
I shuffle forward. “I can—”
A mocking, disgusted voice sounds out, “Oh, come on, Callie, don’t use your epic failure to become a damsel and let Chase carry you off into happily ever after. Have some self-respect.”
I glance to the side, unsurprised that Falyn is the first to speak, but Willow stands next to her, and so does Violet, their hoods pulled back and their hair glinting under the dock’s singular lamplight.
Yet, they appear frazzled, their expressions twitchy and their eyes darting between Chase and Tempest, who stands nearby, glowering with his arms crossed. The other robed Virtues have scattered closer to the boathouse, risking glances, but otherwise whispering to each other and straying from the scene.
“It’s not like that was hard,” Willow pipes up, but shrinks under Tempest’s answering growl.
“You okay?” Chase murmurs near my ear.
I nod, even though I am far, far from okay.
“Too bad,” Falyn sneers. “I was really looking forward to you becoming a member of our society.”
“I’m…” I clear my throat from the lingering panic that spreads across my vocal cords like the jagged pieces of coral. “I’m flattered. Because I have your fucking key.”
Falyn’s expression goes blank. Chase braces beside me.
She says, “Excuse me?”
Ivy, staying near, smiles at the same time her body sags in relief.
Falyn asks quietly, “You what?”
“Hey, you said this was one of the easier tests, right?” With a trembling hand, I loosen the blanket around my shoulders and pull the key out from my cleavage, its silver curves catching the beam of light as it dangles from my fingers.
I’m awed by its old-fashioned beauty, heavy with solid metal and smooth with its three half-circles at the top. I slide it off the sodden ribbon and into my palm, my fingers curling over the stem.
“I believe this is mine now?” I ask on a rasp.
Falyn’s expression goes rigid. She glances at Willow, Ivy, Tempest, Chase—anyone who might have an answer for this unfortunate twist of fate.
When no one offers their opinion, Falyn gathers herself, standing taller. “Fine. Bravo. You’ve passed the first round.”
“Give her more credit than that,” Chase says, standing. He crooks out an arm as he rises, so I can take hold and push to my feet with him. My legs ache with the effort. “Since I doubt this was orchestrated by your queen.” Chase’s jawline cascades with shadow when he pinpoints Willow. “Am I right on that, Will?”
Willow folds her arms into her chest, refusing to meet his eye. Tempest arches a brow at her. “Lies got your tongue, headmaster junior?”
“Like it matters,” Falyn snaps out, then points a shaking finger at me. “She would’ve had to undergo a similar ritual in the temple. I was just the expeditor. Our queen will be—”
“Pissed,” Chase supplies. “But sadly, her ire won’t come close to the retrib
ution I’m about to seek.”
Falyn’s lip trembles. She steps back. “You don’t have that kind of power over me.”
Chase idly checks his cuticles with his free hand. “Don’t I?”
“Being the prince of the Nobles doesn’t give you the authority to direct me,” Falyn says, but her voice isn’t as firm.
“You Virtues.” Chase clucks his tongue, and while everything about him appears languid and at ease, the arm I grip is taut with barely constrained anger. “Does our mutual rulebook not say that if a Virtuous member attacks a Noble prince’s soulmate, the prince may exact any punishment he wishes?”
Willow gasps.
Ivy steps to my other side but stares over my head at Chase. “Are you serious?”
Tempest slides his fingers along his chin, chuckling mirthlessly. “Should’ve seen that one coming, ladies.”
Falyn’s mouth works before she says to Chase, “You don’t have a soulmate anymore. And our princess can override—”
“You don’t have a princess, either,” Chase counters. “She’s dead.”
I add quietly, “I’m—I’m having trouble following this argument.”
“Callie Ryan is not your soulmate,” Falyn says, drawing closer. “Piper was.”
Chase withdraws his arm from mine, wrapping it around my shoulders and pulling me closer. “I’ve chosen a new one. The rules stand.”
“No,” Falyn whispers, and casts her glare on me.
Her face contorts with fury, hatred, targeted disgust. Her upper lip peels back. “You don’t belong with us. You only have access to the societies because it’d be too obvious if we seriously injured you and left you for dead. Admit it. You have no place as a Virtue.”
She’s right. All I want to do is take them down. For Piper, Emma, Eden … me. And every other girl who’s crossed their paths and been veered into their orchestrated trauma.
I’m about to agree—
“Aren’t you curious to hear my punishment for forcing Callie to find a key she has every right to?” Chase asks, a soft cadence to his voice. Too lenient.
“You don’t choose our members,” Falyn hisses at him.
“You’re right. The queen does. And she chose Callie.” Chase cocks his head. “Get in the water, Falyn.”
“Fuck you,” she retorts.
“Get under the docks.”
“I will not.”
“And hold your breath for as long as I tell you to.”
“I will not!” Falyn screams, saliva frothing in the corners of her mouth.
Falyn is so outraged that her entire form shudders, and her eyes, stretched so wide, the gray of her irises leak into the white.
Ivy rests a hand on my shoulder, drawing close.
“Back off, Falyn,” Ivy says. “Callie’s under our protection.”
Falyn slow-blinks, her face twisted in grotesque anger. Then, she guffaws, her stare pin-wheeling between Chase, me in the middle, and Ivy. “Protection?” she asks, then starts cackling. “Protection?”
“Either you jump into the goddamned lake,” Chase says, “or I’ll force your Virtues to do it for you.”
“Right, the princely Stone would never touch a girl in such a ruthless manner,” Falyn says through her laughter. I’m both horrified and fascinated by the sight. “That’s not how you assholes operate. You go behind the scenes, don’t you? Orchestrate your enemies’ downfall with quiet, sightless maneuvers, but they’re just as strong, just as lethal, as if you laid your hands on Callie in the first place.” Falyn locks me in place with her gaze. “No. They’re worse. And you’re their latest puppet.”
Chase releases his hold on me and storms forward. “If you value your place in the Virtues, you will shut the hell up.”
Falyn doesn’t back down. “Haven’t you told your latest soulmate how she’s inherited that title in the first place? I’d think that would be some crucial information to impart before you strip her and toss her in your bed.”
Dread sloshes against my rib cage. I take one step, laying a hand on Chase’s bicep. Trying to turn him, he refuses to cede any ground. “Chase, tell me what she’s talking about.”
Up until this point, I’d been silent during most of their exchange, drinking in their polarizing arguments for later use, but with the way Falyn’s face transforms from distressed rage to snide, winning confidence, I’m terrified of this new outcome.
“Oh, honey.” Falyn turns to me, widening her eyes with feigned, comical sympathy. “You’ve already fucked him, haven’t you?”
Ivy steps between us, her back to me. “Do as Chase says, Falyn, or go tell the queen what you’ve done to Callie. Neither choice keeps you on this pontoon.”
“I’ll get to you.” Falyn points dryly at Ivy. “Callie, I’m about to make your trip under the docks feel like paradise.”
Chase rasps, “If you so much as whisper more lies...”
Ivy’s shoulders go rigid. “Falyn, don’t. Remember the sisterhood.”
“The same sisterhood that’s failing to defend me?” Falyn counters. She gestures to the cluster of Virtues hovering at the perimeter, their hoods obscuring their faces. Then at Willow and Violet behind her. “You all want to fall in line behind the prince? Fine. I’ll face my punishment, but not before I tell Callie that Ivy was ordered to befriend her, and Chase was told to fuck her as a distraction.”
My knees buckle. I falter in automatic recoil, my heels coming too close to the end of the dock but jerk back just in time.
I may have saved my body from another drowning, but my heart teeters over the edge and splashes back into the black depths. “That’s not true.”
But it can be. It is.
Haven’t I learned by now that the students in Briarcliff are not what they seem? Friends are true enemies, teachers are predators, headmasters are members of secret societies…
Paranoia spreads its spider-legs across my mind, assisting in Falyn’s revelation.
Ivy spins to face me. “Don’t let her get to you. I can explain.”
Chase cups my face. “Falyn’s batshit. You hear me? Don’t listen. I care about you. I do.”
The two of them crowd in, and it’s with a shredded scream that I push them off. “How could you? How could you both?”
“Callie, she’s made it out to be—”
“To be what?” Falyn cuts Chase off. “Something other than the truth? If you care about her so much, Stone, then tell her why you singled her out on her first day. How you beckoned her with your looks and your smile and your sex appeal.” Falyn slides her gaze to me. “Unfortunately, you’re not the first, honey.”
I shake my head. “Shut up. All of you, just shut up.”
But Falyn’s relentless. “Happy with your key now, Callie? Ivy’s only friends with you because she has to be. We were curious about you the minute you came on campus, and you certainly didn’t disappoint, with everything you’ve told Ivy you discovered about us.”
I blink at Ivy with wide eyes. “You told them everything?”
Ivy’s stare gleams with tears. “You have to understand…”
My chest grows tight. There’s no water surrounding me this time, but I feel like I’ve been deprived of all oxygen.
What did I just fight through all this filth for?
“Your life isn’t your own anymore,” Falyn continues. “It’s ours. We tell you who to be friends with. What subjects to excel in. Who you can fuck. We’re the Virtuous future, and we’ve just screwed you senseless.” Falyn beams after her statement. “So, tell me, Callie, as the soulmate who was, and I quote, ‘attacked,’ you have the option of nullifying Chase’s punishment. Still want me to jump in your water? ‘Cause I firmly believe I’ve baptized the shit out of you in this lake—”
I can’t listen anymore. Chase tries to catch me, but I push him off, crying with harsh, damaged vocal cords, “Liar!”
He backs off, but Ivy comes up beside him, her face pleading with me to stay.
But I don’t. I can’
t.
My world has shifted, and not simply because Falyn has decided to control its axis.
“Let your trials begin!” Falyn calls after me, her laughter echoing across the lake.
3
I’m not sure I can function enough to make it to my dorm room, but I ask for one more favor from my quivering, battered legs to get us to our final destination, where a hot shower and a warm bed await.
Clutching the scratchy boathouse blanket around my shoulders, I wobble as fast as I can up the trail and scurry through Briarcliff’s winding pathway until I arrive at Thorne House.
The night security guard raises a brow as I stumble through the sliding doors.
“Rough trot, already?” he asks through his burly mustache.
I shake my head, my teeth chattering too hard to form a proper response, and like he cares whether or not I’ve taken part in Briarcliff’s students Turkey Trot. All I care about is warmth.
“I won’t ask for your ID, considering I recognize that face of yours,” he says when I reach the elevator. “You were in the crowd around that Harrington kid who got arrested for her sister’s murder.”
I manage a nod, but not much else.
“Looks like you’ve had a rough enough time of it,” he mutters when the elevator door dings open. “Stay safe, kid.”
I’m forced to face him when I push the button for the third floor, and whatever he sees in my expression makes his chin jerk back. “And warm,” he adds. “Your lips are blue.”
The door slides shut on the perturbed crunch of his brows, but I think I’ve had enough of concerned adults who end up providing zero assistance in this shit-hell of a school.
My keycard is somewhere in my back pocket, and I dig for it with numbed fingers while I wait for the elevator to spit me out on my floor. It takes four tries before I’m successful, my grip on the blanket wrapping around my neck like a vise each time I move.
With my jaw in full-on seizure mode, I stumble down the hall, slap the keycard against my electronic lock, and fall inside, the heavy wood slamming shut behind me.
“Jesus, what—oh my God, Callie.”
Emma steps out from her room, annoyance warping into wariness as she strides over.
Fiend (Briarcliff Secret Society Series Book 3) Page 2
