The Eternity Key

by Bree Despain

  “Sounds like Rowan,” Haden says, not quite under his breath.

  “But we can still use this to smoke him out,” Daphne says, pointing to a link that says, Report this card lost or stolen. “How about we cut off his cash flow? See how long he stays in the woodwork when he finds out his card has been cancelled.”

  “You’re brilliant,” I say, clicking the link to go through the process to cancel the card. “Now, if only you could figure out how to get us into town hall on a Saturday night, I might propose to you.”

  “I got nothing on that one.” She shrugs.

  “If you want to get into town hall on a Saturday night,” Lexie says, “then just buy a ticket to Cupid’s Ball.”

  “Cupid’s what?” Daphne asks.

  “It’s the school Valentine’s dance,” Lexie says. “Don’t you guys pay attention to the posters around school? Me and the Sopranos have been working on them all week,” she says, pointing at the box of paint and glitter. “Normally, I have one of the printers on my dad’s payroll make up professional signs, but stupid Mr. Bowman volunteered to be our faculty advisor for the dance, and he’s insisting we go all old-school, handmade posters and decor because it’ll be more ‘romantic,’ but seriously, if you guys aren’t even noticing the signs, this is a waste of time.”

  “I think we’ve all just had a lot on our minds …,” Daphne says. “But what does the dance have to do with town hall?”

  “Well, if you’d read any of my posters or flyers”—she pulls a flyer out of her box and thrusts it at Daphne—“you would know that the dance is being held in the rotunda of the town hall building.”

  “When?” I grab the flyer from Daphne.

  “In two weeks. You know, on Valentine’s Day?” Lexie says with a “duh” sound to her voice, like we’re all a bunch of idiots.

  I exchange a look with Daphne. She smiles at me mischievously.

  “Do you have a tux, Mr. Bond?” she asks me.

  “Yeah …”

  “You still have access to Sage’s safe cracker?”

  “He probably left one of his prototypes in his closet.…”

  “Do you have a date to the ball yet?”

  I smile.

  “What are you two going on about?” Haden asks, clearly more confused than usual. “Why is this dance so important?”

  “Because,” Daphne says, her smile going from mischievous to downright devious, “we’re going to pull a heist.”

  chapter twenty-eight

  HADEN

  “Everyone needs to be there by seven thirty,” Daphne says as she pores over a crudely drawn map of town hall that Tobin provided from memory. Our lunch break during this Saturday rehearsal is almost over, and the dance is tonight. We’ve spent the last two weeks coming up with a strategy to get in and out of the mayor’s office during this so-called Cupid’s Ball, but I still have misgivings about the plan.

  “I still think I should be the one who goes for the scroll,” I say.

  “Doesn’t work,” Tobin says. “Ethan is the faculty advisor for the dance, which means it’s inevitable that the Skylords will be there. They’ll be watching you for sure, and the last thing we want to do is lead them right to the scroll.”

  I know he’s right, but I don’t like the idea of giving up so much control over the situation.

  “Besides, if I get caught,” Tobin says, “I’ll be able to come up with a more plausible explanation for why I’m hanging out in my mother’s office.”

  “Our diversion is planned for 8:07,” Daphne goes on, reviewing our plan. “Do the Sopranos know what they’re supposed to do?”

  Lexie nods. “They’ll rush the stage as soon as Joe and his band start their first song.”

  The diversion part of this plan is the one that has me the most dubious. We’d gone through several options for what would make the best distraction so Tobin and Lexie can sneak past security in order to get to the mayor’s office. Garrick had gone as far to suggest an explosion in the town hall kitchen, but Lexie had wholeheartedly protested anything that might actually ruin the dance she’d spent the last month planning. “There will be no explosions at my dance! Besides, it’ll make it even harder to get to her office if they have to evacuate the building because they think there’s a bomb threat.”

  It was Joe who had finally come up with the idea that the others liked best. “What if Joe Vince and the Stargazers were to make a surprise guest appearance to the dance to perform a brand-new single from their yet-to-be-released album? Do you think that would create a bit of a ruckus? Especially if some overzealous fans were to rush the stage—that might keep security occupied for a few minutes.”

  Lexie didn’t protest this idea at all. “Ooh, the surprise could be, like, my gift to the school or something!”

  “Is anyone really going to buy it when a bunch of girls rush the stage?” I had asked. “Do people do such things over rock stars?”

  “Uh, yes,” Daphne had said. “Joe and I can barely make it in and out of restaurants outside of Olympus Hills without him being accosted.”

  “A lot of the students are getting used to seeing me around the school, but if the band is performing, I think that would cause a stir—especially if Lexie’s Sopranos were tipped off to what we want them to do.”

  “I think we need a secondary option,” I had suggested. “Something to split the security guards’ attention in two directions.”

  Which is how Garrick had been reluctantly looped in on the plan.

  “Garrick, your part needs to go off at 8:09,” Daphne says as we look over the schedule now. “Garrick! Are you listening?”

  He looks up from playing a game on his phone. “8:09, boys’ bathroom, north hall.”

  “South hall,” Daphne corrects.

  “That’s what I said,” Garrick says, fervently tapping the screen of his phone.

  A few students start returning from lunch break, so we huddle closer to review the rest of the plan before Mr. Morgan arrives.

  “Everyone got it?” Daphne asks as we break apart.

  “Got it,” those of us who are paying attention respond.

  “And make sure you look sharp, Tobin,” Lexie says, wagging a finger at him. “I don’t normally date short guys, so you’d better look pretty damn good if people are going to believe that we’re there together. None of this basketball shoes paired with khakis that some guys try to pull off at dances.”

  “Um, I have a fedora to coordinate with every outfit that I own. You think I’d wear sneakers with a suit? Please. I own my own tux. And, by the way, you’re, like, barely five feet tall. Compared to you, I’m practically in the NBA.”

  “NBA? Yeah, like you could score with me any day,” Lexie says.

  Daphne bursts into laughter. I blink at all three of them.

  “I meant to say score over me,” Lexie says, her face growing pink. “It was supposed to be a basketball reference.”

  “Freudian slip?” Tobin says, in a voice that I can’t tell if it’s mocking or teasing.

  “You wish.”

  Lexie and Tobin glare at each other, and I start to wonder if pairing them up for a pretend date is a good idea. But I’m not about to suggest that he take Daphne instead. I wouldn’t like the idea of her sneaking off with him to unknown parts of town hall without my protection.

  “Whatever,” Tobin says. “I’m going to look so fine in my tux, you girls will have a hard time remembering why we’re even at the dance in the first place.”

  I hope that isn’t the case. With Skylords possibly watching and Mayor Winters’s security on the prowl, we can’t afford any complications in our plan.

  chapter twenty-nine

  DAPHNE

  I hitch a ride to Cupid’s Ball with Tobin and Lexie, feeling like a third wheel even though they’re on a fake date.

  “Well, you look passable,” Lexie says when Tobin picks us up. But she looks him up and down in his tux more than once—clearly liking what she sees. Tobin might be “t
oo short” for Lexie, but there is something magical about a guy who can wear a tux well.

  Tobin removes his black fedora and, with a grand bow, replies, “And you, sweetest Lexie, are as ravishing as ever.” His voice drips with sarcasm, but the notes flitting off him suggest he’s telling the truth.

  I make a mental note to needle Tobin later about his history with Lexie—and possibly their future?

  “You all look gorgeous!” Joe says, pulling out his iPhone to take some pictures. “Especially you, Daph.”

  Things are still weird and a little strained between us, but I return his compliment with a smile. Lexie had insisted on taking me shopping a week before the dance. “If you and I are going to continue being friends, we need to bring your fashion up a few notches. No more of,” she said, waving her hand in my general direction, “this. I’m having my dress custom-made, but I’ve had a couple of my Sopranos draw up a list of glam boutiques in LA who cater to the big and tall.”

  She’d been kidding about the big part (I think), but compared to Lexie, I am pretty much a giant—I guess that’s what happens when you’re descended from the last of the Amazons. But I didn’t put much stock in a dig from a girl who probably had her dresses custom-made so she didn’t have to buy them from the juniors department. However, I have to admit that she did a pretty stellar job in helping me pick out a dress. It’s red chiffon with a satin underlay. The bodice is a formfitting sweetheart neckline with capped sleeves, while the skirt is short in the front and long and flowy in the back. And because we’d bought it at a store for tall clientele, I don’t have to worry about constantly tugging at the front of my skirt, because it isn’t too short.

  Lexie’s dress has a similar skirt, but is pink and strapless, with intricate beading. I’m pretty sure it cost five times more than mine.

  Joe insists on taking more than a few pictures. After about ten different poses, I remind him that he needs to go meet his band before they make their surprise guest appearance, and he lets us go.

  “Shall we?” Tobin asks, holding out both of his arms to escort us to the car.

  We arrive at the town hall shortly thereafter, but Tobin parks across the street rather than using the valet, in case we need to “bug out,” as he phrased it.

  As much as Tobin would probably like to walk into the dance with two girls on his arms, I insist on waiting a few minutes before following them in. I am supposed to be going to the dance stag, as is Haden, since we’re not supposed to all be seen together.

  When I finally walk into the entry hall, I find that it looks like a pink-and-red-heart-filled bomb has gone off. They’re everywhere, from dangling like lanterns from the ceiling to masking the walls.

  I show my ticket to Dax, who, as a faculty volunteer and a lookout for our little operation, is manning the ticket table.

  “Everything looks well to have a good evening,” he says. I think this sounds odd until he gives a slight nod behind him.

  I follow his gesture with my gaze to find Haden standing in the rotunda of the building, just in front of the dance floor. I take in a quick breath that I hope Dax doesn’t notice. I’d thought Tobin wore a tux well, but that was nothing compared to the way Haden looks in his. All dark and dashing and kind of regal.

  It strikes me for a moment that he is a prince.

  Or at least he could have been if he hadn’t given it all up to save me.

  I start to take a step in Haden’s direction, but Dax clears his throat, catching my attention. “Don’t forget to check your jacket,” he says, even though I don’t have one. I glance over to the coat-check station—a closet with an open window where students can pass their jackets to the clerk—to find Ethan and the other Skylords conversing—no, arguing—with each other. I can’t tell what they’re saying, but Terresa gives me a quick, sharp glance before returning to the argument.

  Remembering that the Skylords are watching, I take a roundabout path to the rotunda, rather than making a beeline for Haden. I pass Tobin and Lexie, who’ve stopped to talk to Bridgette and her date, and give Tobin the smallest of nods as I go.

  The rotunda is a large, circular room in the center of the building, with four sets of stairs that give access to a balcony overlooking the dance floor. A large crystal chandelier, as big as an elephant, hangs from the center of the ceiling, with glittering pink and red hearts dangling from its arms; and the floor and columns supporting the balcony are made of white marble. Tables, draped with black-and-white tablecloths, and adorned with arrangements of red roses, surround the outskirts of the dance floor, and an ice sculpture of a plump, little cupid with his bow and arrow guards the refreshment table that fills the space between two of the staircases on the south end of the rotunda. The space between the two north staircases is filled by a stage that has been erected for the DJ—and later for Joe and his band when they make their surprise appearance.

  I give the rotunda a good once-over, expecting to see the mayor, but I don’t. Instead, I spot the security guards, who stand at the top of each staircase. According to Tobin, their job is to keep students from wandering beyond the balcony to the corridors where the mayor and other town officials keep their offices. Below, the only security is that of the school faculty chaperones, who will be more than busy when Joe’s band arrives. There is already a lot of excitement and speculation buzzing around the dance about a rumored surprise—and it’s obviously a band, from the equipment set up on the stage.

  I pick up a glass of pink fizzy punch from the refreshment table, where Garrick had grudgingly agreed to volunteer this evening. I don’t see him at his post and quickly begin to worry about the plan. It may not work if he doesn’t play his part.

  I start to panic until I spot him, at the end of the table, slouching in a chair with his legs crossed and a plate of little sausages and cheese in his hand. He catches me glaring at him and gives me a sarcastic thumbs-up, then drops his attention back to his plate of food.

  I take my glass and stand at one of the tall tables lining the dance floor and watch people who have come to the ball with dates dance to a slow song. It’s 7:57 when Haden comes to stand at the table next to mine. His back is to me, but I still hear him say, “You look beautiful,” over the music.

  I am glad he cannot see me blush.

  I watch the couples dancing, my anxiety growing the closer we get to eight, and I let out a too-loud laugh when something catches my eye. I clamp my hands over my mouth.

  “What?” Haden says, turning toward me.

  “Over there,” I say, gesturing with my hand hidden by the table. “Check it out. Terresa and Calix are dancing together.”

  He turns slightly away from me again but looks at Terresa and Calix dancing only a few yards away. Their movements are mechanical and stiff, and I get the distinct impression that Terresa does not enjoy touching Calix.

  “I mean, it’s totally a ruse because they’re obviously watching your every move,” I say as Calix turns Terresa away so she isn’t glaring at Haden for once. “But aren’t those two supposed to be pretending to be cousins? Someone should tell them dancing together isn’t the best idea, considering their cover.”

  Haden’s shoulders shake a little as if he were silently laughing. I wish I could see his face. I start to move so I can face him, when the music comes to a stop and the DJ says into the mic that he has a special announcement on behalf of Lexie Simmons, the organizer of the dance. I can see Joe and his band waiting in the corridor behind the north stairs. I look to the other side of the rotunda and watch as Tobin and Lexie try to make their way through the crowd to the south stairs. I check my watch. It’s only eight. We’re seven minutes ahead of schedule.

  I reach over and squeeze Haden’s hand behind his table.

  “Ready or not, here we go,” I whisper.

  chapter thirty

  HADEN

  The hysteria that fills the room when the DJ announces the special guests who will provide the entertainment for the rest of the evening is more than I co
uld have predicted. Egged on by the over-the-top reactions from Lexie’s Sopranos, a throng of students rush toward the stage. Chaperones and a handful of security guards descend on the crowd, holding them back just so Joe and his band can even get to the stage. The scene is almost as exhilarating as the fact that Daphne is holding my hand behind the table.

  Joe takes the microphone from the DJ.

  “ ’Ello,” he calls to the crowd, which goes even wilder. “I’m Joe Vince, and we are the Stargazers. Some of you might have heard of us.”

  Excited screams echo through the rotunda, the crowd pressing even closer to the band. Someone, possibly Bridgette, tries to climb up onto the stage, requiring two security guards to pull her away.

  Joe laughs charmingly into the microphone. “We’re going to perform some of our old favorites tonight, but also a couple of new songs, to give you a little preview of the album we’ve been preparing, based on the rock opera that I’ve written for the school. The first of which features a very special guest vocalist.” He swings his arm out in my and Daphne’s direction. I pull my hand out of Daphne’s grasp and step away from her. “Daphne, will you please join us onstage?”

  A panicked look strikes Daphne’s face. This is not part of the plan.

  “Come on, Daphne,” Joe coaxes.

  She starts to shake her head. “We haven’t practiced this song in weeks,” she says, even though I am the only one who can hear her.

  “All right, crowd, let’s get her up here!” Joe leads the students in a rollicking chant of: “Daphne, Daphne, Daphne!”

  “Go,” I mouth to her.

  Daphne starts to move toward the stage but gets mired in the crowd.

  “Can we get a little assistance here?” Joe says, pointing to a couple of unoccupied teachers at the bottom of the south stairs. They respond by creating a buffer so Daphne can make it through the crowd.