32
I bounce on the balls of my feet, waiting for Ivy to notice me. When she finally turns into the hallway, she yelps and trips to a stop seconds before bumping into me.
“Lord, Callie! Save the creeping around in the shadows for our nighttime adventures, would you?”
I offer up lamely, “I wanted to catch you before our next class.”
Ivy shifts the pile of books in her arms. “For what?”
“I’m wondering when I get the rulebook.”
Ivy clutches her texts to her chest, then elbows me into the empty classroom. “Are you out of your mind? Don’t ask for things like that in public!”
Expecting that answer, I interlace my fingers, and ask, with innocent charm, “I take that as a not any time soon?”
“Your third trial’s complete. Sabine will schedule a date for the ceremony where you’ll pledge your loyalty, accept your robe, and become an official Virtue.”
“I assume Sabine’s scheduling is at her leisure.”
Ivy responds with a pained look. “Sorry.”
“There’s no time to wait for her. I might have a lead on something. Can I borrow yours?”
Ivy squints at me. “This was a setup, wasn’t it?”
I give an offhand shrug. “Do you have it handy?”
“It’s in my room, in the locked drawer of my bedside table. Here.” Ivy digs in her blazer pocket and pulls out a silver key. “Go and satisfy your curiosity, but don’t tell anyone I gave you access.”
“Never. We’re on the same side, Ivy.”
Ivy’s fingers tighten around the key before releasing it into my hand. “I hope you’re right.”
When the key drops into my palm, I hold her hand and squeeze. She looks up at me in surprise.
“I will not let Sabine schedule another Tuesday, do you understand?”
Ivy blinks. Swallows.
“However I can stop this, I will. You are no longer Sabine’s slave.”
Ivy holds my stare and whispers, “How can you be so sure?”
“My mother was a Virtue. She and Sabine had beef long before you and I were born. And like us, my mother tried to leave them. They punished her, made her suffer the rest of her year here, but … she went into hiding and was able to live a life without them. Up until my enrollment, she kept me from becoming a legacy.”
Ivy shakes her head. “That’s not possible. Once you become a Virtue and accept their privileges, you’re indebted to their cause for life.”
“Which is why I need that rulebook. I don’t think my mom became invisible like she thought she did. The societies must have kept track of her somehow. She married my stepdad, who went here. And now he’s married to her classmate. And after her death, I became a senior at the very school she ran away from. It took me a while to figure out, but … it isn’t just about Sabine bringing me under the society’s control to stop me from exposing the Virtues. This is about my mother. Whatever’s in those pages might tell me what she found to get them to let her go.”
My confession to Ivy leaves me out of breath but determined to trek through the bitter cold to Richardson Place. The afternoon air is so frigid, it’s like walking through a block of ice, and I pull my faux fur-lined hood closer around my face as I clomp down a paved walkway that’s begging for another snowplow to come around again.
It’s supposed to blizzard tonight. I forgot that nugget of relevancy when I shot up in bed this morning. My dreams were so relaxed (for once) that my mind was able to toil away behind the scenes, picking up jagged pieces of collected information and fitting them just right before the answer slapped me awake.
And when I stared blindly at the wall across from my bed, my eyes stretched wide, I thought, There it is. The missing clue.
There is a deeper connection to this school and my mother than I was initially willing to consider. A festering one. Why else would Meredith Ryan, the strongest, most independent, and fiercely loyal woman I knew, capitulate to a mean girl like Sabine?
Mom worked herself ragged when I was young. Her hands were nothing but reddened, knobby stubs from all the detergent she was forced to work with while she cleaned office buildings at night. It wasn’t until she began cleaning the precinct, that she noticed someone left a folded newspaper by their computer with a half-completed crossword. During one break, she finished that crossword and left it on the desk. The following night, that day’s newspaper was left open again, this time a quarter completed. She filled in the words once more. It became a nightly ritual that eventually had her meeting Ahmar, working late, and he used her innate strategic abilities to help convince her to be more.
Looking back, I see that my mom was a broken version of herself. Somebody swung down a power stick, and it shattered across my mother’s back. And a woman like my mother—boisterous, pragmatic, sincere, smart, and an expert at spotting the smallest details—would never have been put in that position unless she was given no choice.
She may not be alive anymore, but I’d like to gift her that freedom back.
When she died, and after the initial investigation was over, Dad packed up her things and put them in storage to go through later, when I felt ready. More clues might lie in the items she left behind, and I make a mental note to call Dad and ask him to send a few boxes over—once I’ve prepared myself enough to talk to him.
He and Lynda are on my list, but I must see this theory through, first. Ahmar may have thought it a coincidence, but I never inherited my mother’s pragmatism, nor did his wash off on me.
The last time I confronted my dad, it ended horribly and with me on a mental hold. This time, I’ll be holding evidence of Briarcliff Academy’s duplicity in my hands before I accuse him of helping the Nobles and possibly marrying my mother to ensure her continued docility.
The thought makes me unsteady, and I walk faster through the falling snow, eager to breathe air that isn’t filled with microscopic icicles taking up space in my lungs.
I key open Ivy’s door, but since my departure from the academy, the wind kicked up, and a boatload of snow follows me in.
“Damn it, Callie!” Eden pops up from her desk chair, runs past me, and slams the door shut. “I just got the room to a decent heat level!”
“I didn’t think anyone would be here.”
“It’s independent study this afternoon. Remember? Exams start tomorrow.”
“Oh.” I blow a lank, half-frozen strand of hair from my face while I pull my hood back. “Right.”
“What are you doing here?”
I hold up Ivy’s key with numbed fingers. “Her copy of the Virtues’ rulebook is by her bed. I’m here to read it.”
Eden blinks. “Points for blunt honesty. Fine, go ahead.”
While Eden goes back to studying at her desk, I slip off my coat and make sure to hang it on the coatrack under Eden’s hairy eyeball. My socked feet make no sound as I head over to Ivy’s side, sit on her bed, and unlock her bedside table.
The rulebook is where she said it would be, and I pull it out, sliding a palm down the buttery leather and gold foil lettering of her full name: Ivara Alling.
How must it have felt to receive this kind of belonging? I trace the edges of her name. How must it have felt to have that belonging ripped away from you and replaced with fear?
I carefully open the book, my head bowed over the pages.
My hovering doesn’t stop the watchful prickles from heating my neck, however.
“Eden, are you interested in reading this, too?” I ask without moving.
After a creak and a shuffle, the bed dips under me when Eden takes a seat. “What are you looking for?”
“Anything relating to my mother,” I say, turning the page.
“Your mom?”
“Oh yeah, she’s a Virtue.” I read the next page, containing the rules and decorum of a Virtuous member.
“Jeez, I miss one day with you guys and already I’m way behind on the revelations. She went to Briarcliff?”
&nbs
p; “That’s the theory.” I flip to another page, my brows growing tauter the more I find block paragraphs of etiquette and appropriate dress codes. “When was this written?”
Eden slams her hand on the open pages, smacking it into my lap. “The 1920s. And your confused face is correct. The moral code is way out-of-date from current Virtue practices. Mrs. Harrington thinks these books are wasted materials modern women don’t need. Also, hardcopies are too easily discovered when they’re lying around. She’s moved on to encrypted files sent only to the highest-ranking members. Ivy didn’t tell you that?”
“She didn’t have to,” I say on a sigh. “I told her I wanted the rules, and I guess I have them. But I thought it would give me more clues. This is so frustrating.” I push the heels of my hands against my temples. “I feel like all I do is sift through papers written in a secret code I can’t read.”
“You haven’t tried asking me.”
Eden stares at me attentively. “I’ve broken into Ivy’s drawer and read that thing a thousand times. Whatever you’re looking for, I might be able to save you a ton of wasted reading time.”
“You go through Ivy’s things?”
“You went through Piper’s. Now ask me your question.”
Touché. “I’ve just found out my mother went to school here with Sabine and Daniel.”
“The two current leaders of the secret societies,” Eden muses. “Interesting.”
“It’s why I’m scouring the Virtues’ rulebook, because I think my mom was also a member of the Virtues.” I lift my head and stare at the ceiling, allowing my thoughts to take over. “When I first came here, I found the societies’ crest, hidden in the trophy case by Marron’s office.”
Eden nods. “I’ve seen it.”
“It had a familiarity to it … one I couldn’t put my finger on. It might be because I recognize it from somewhere in my past. I plan to go through Mom’s boxes when I’m home for Christmas. See if I can find … something.”
“Well.” Eden lifts the rulebook from my hands. “A lot of this is moot because of Sabine’s overhaul of the Virtues’ record-keeping. Back when your mom was attending, it wasn’t. So, hmm…” Eden fans through the book, running her finger down the pages as she skims. “Here it is.”
I lean over her shoulder.
“The Virtues have differing opinions from the Nobles, even back then. When these societies were first created, Rose Briar adopted the same rules and initiation rites as the Nobles.”
“Like what?”
“Tradition over change. The men handled all the money, like alumni donations, robe purchases, site maintenance. If the Virtues had a leaky pipe in their toilets, they had to go to the Nobles for approval to obtain funding to fix it. That sort of thing.”
I wrinkle my nose.
“Exactly,” Eden says. “The women members wanted to carve their own paths and obtain independent power over the men. So, while they used this in obvious sight of the Nobles, secretly, they created rules to reflect their views, not the Nobles’. The queen who replaced Rose figured out a way to siphon money from the main bank account into a secret one, only for the Virtues.” Eden brightens. “Which, I think, is the first documented case of embezzlement in Briarcliff history.”
I laugh under my breath. “Good for her.”
“Back then it was good. They were good, decent, and damn smart. That’s what you get for harboring the best and brightest women under your wings but become blind to what goes on in between the thick feathers. These women toiled, conspired, and fought for their independent rights. They married CEOs but handled the bank accounts. Started dating future presidents while advising them under her breath in their ear. Founded their own companies, spearheaded some of the most successful non-profits in the world … all under the Nobles’ unassuming eye.”
“That’s wonderful.” And I mean it. “I always thought Rose had good intentions creating the Virtues.”
Eden side-eyes me but doesn’t expand on the topic. I wonder if she knows, whether by going through Ivy’s stuff, or because she keeps an ear to the ground, what Sabine asks of her top girls in order to keep those accessory positions these days.
“Getting to my point,” Eden says, then taps a section of the rulebook. I peer closer. “Most of these rules are inapplicable except for this one.”
I squint, then reread the bold title. “The rules of succession?”
Eden reads the paragraph out loud. “‘A direct descendent of the blood of a Briar will forever maintain leadership and accord over the prestigious Virtuous members.’ And look here.” Eden skims over the requirements of being considered a Briar blood-relation to subsection (c). “‘If a member of the Briar lost lineage is subsequently revealed, herein after referred to as a ‘Hidden Briar,’ that Hidden Briar has the automatic right to overthrow a Queen in power over the Virtues, provided the Hidden Briar possesses a relation stronger than the current Queen.”
I straighten. “This is to be expected. From what I’ve gleaned of the Briars, they were egotistical, power-hungry males, willing to leave anyone considered below them behind.”
Eden looks up from the book, her cheeks blooming in a flush of excitement the longer she studies me. “Uh-huh. Keep going.”
I give an uncertain smile, unused to friendly encouragement within school grounds. “Okay. Well, does the blood-relation requirement include illegitimate children?”
Eden’s smile stretches wide, the delightful rarity of joy rippling across her features. “Yes! It’s like you said—the Nobles were assholes with a hero complex, and they gave rights to illegitimate heirs. Granted, the rightful heir had a stronger hold on the throne, but an illegitimate son, born to Thorne Briar for example, had more of a claim to leading the Nobles than, say, a distant cousin.”
I lose my breath for a moment when I latch on to Eden’s explanation. “And the Virtues copied the text directly from the Nobles’ rulebook.”
Eden’s answering smile shows a row of bright, white teeth. “And never changed it.”
My heart pounds in my ears. “Rose Briar had an illegitimate daughter with Theodore Briar, Thorne’s brother. I found the birth certificate hidden in Daniel Stone’s personal files.”
“Looks like you’ve found yourself a Hidden Briar. Buried into nonexistence. You discovered it in Daniel Stone’s study, but where was it before? Why have the Nobles been keeping it a secret?”
I whisper, finishing, “Instead of destroying it?”
Eden snaps the book shut. “It’s the Nobles’ leverage over the queen. I guarantee it. Because I will bet you more naked pictures of me that Mrs. Harrington is not a descendent of the Briars. In fact, ever since Rose died, there hasn’t been a direct descendent in power for almost two-hundred years. The Briar brothers all had sons.”
“Holy shit.” I stand, move, my footsteps matching the pace of this revelation pounding into my brain. “So that means we have—”
“A traceable way of finding the true Virtue queen.” Eden spears up from the bed, throwing her arms wide. “And kicking Sabine to the curb. Holy fuck, Callie. Holy, fucking, FUCK.”
“Wait.” I raise my hand, though my heart is slamming into my throat. “This is big. We have to think this through. If we have a weapon to overthrow Sabine, we need to protect it. I have to tell Chase how important that birth certificate is before he accidently reveals it to Tempest or someone else.”
Eden cocks her head. “Wait, you think the birth certificate is the weapon?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Oh, dear.” Eden comes up and puts her hands on my shoulders, searching my face. “You haven’t thought this through as much as I hoped.”
I search her eyes just as hard. “I’ve had two minutes since reading the succession rules.”
A harsh laugh leaves Eden’s throat, but she doesn’t let go. “I’ve grown to like you, so I’ll say this quick. Think about every minute of your stay here at Briarcliff and who glued themselves to you. Your stepdad went here. So did yo
ur stepmom. Your best friend is the Virtue princess. Your not-so-secret crush is the Noble prince. It’s all been orchestrated. Ivy knows, Callie. Chase does, too. Daniel Stone has probably long ago traced the lineage of Baby Girl Briar.”
I lick my lips, but realize my tongue is numb. The weight I thought was coming from Eden’s hands has moved into my belly, dragging me down, sinking me through the ground.
The longer Eden stares, the more the weight claims a name. Dread. Sick, inhuman, soul-eating dread.
I try to get the answer out, my lips are stiff, uncooperative. “Y-you think…”
“That your mom was Rose Briar’s descendent? At this point and with the people we’re dealing with, I’d be surprised if she wasn’t.”
“But that would mean…”
“That you are, too.” Eden’s smile turns grim. “Your coming to Briarcliff was not a coincidence, Callie. Someone wanted to keep tabs on you and keep their enemies close.”
“No.” But it comes out soundless, and I spin out of Eden’s grip. My features contort as I twist back to my friend. “No, Eden. That can’t be right. Because that means—that means—”
“Your mom’s murder may not have been so random,” Eden says.
Hot, sticky tears course down my cheeks. I don’t wipe them away. I stand my ground. Stare soullessly at Eden. Then I give voice to the demon blackening my bones.
“Sabine killed my mom.”
33
Betrayal isn’t supposed to make me blind.
Yet, I can’t see anything as I shoot out of Eden and Ivy’s dorm and into the frigid evening air, the stars not bright enough to light my way home.
Snow crunches beneath my boots as I finish zipping my jacket and stumble up the jagged walkway to Thorne House. My fingers shake as I pull out my phone and try to send a text, but the screen is too bright, and I can’t read the message chain even when I squint.
Eden doesn’t cry out for me to come back. If I turn and take one last look at Richardson Place, I doubt I’ll see her in the doorway I left open when I flew out of there. She dropped her nuggets of wisdom, then sat back to see what I would do.
Fiend (Briarcliff Secret Society Series Book 3) Page 24
