by Ally Carter
She turns back to the windows where, two hundred years ago, the royal bodies hung. “I only wish we had done a better job of guarding Adria itself.”
Ms. Chancellor shakes her head, as if trying to wake up from a dream.
“Three of our elders took responsibility for guarding the things we salvaged. Some say they were taken from the country for safekeeping. Some say they were tucked away in the hills or in the tunnels or catacombs beneath the city. Personally, I like to think they were hidden in plain sight. But whatever the case, the people who knew the location were killed during the War of the Fortnight, and the truth died with them.”
“So the treasure … it’s real?”
“Quite real. But also quite lost. And almost forgotten.”
“You think Spence was looking for it, don’t you?”
“I think he probably heard stories about it from his grandmother, yes. For a thousand years Adria has been whispering about us, as if we are angels. As if we are ghosts. I have no doubt his grandmother delighted in telling her grandchildren the story. But, Grace, that story had nothing to do with his death. It’s just that. A story.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because two hundred years have passed, and now it is an old wives’ tale. A legend. Like most legends, it was a little bit true once upon a time. But that time was centuries ago, and, besides, the Society has never cared about gold or rubies — those things were left to the looters and the murderers and the people who came through the gates. The Society values information, not material wealth. This so-called treasure is not for you, Grace. It’s gone. And you should forget about it. You should just move on.”
How many times have I heard those words? A hundred? A million? I was supposed to forget about my mother’s murder and the Scarred Man and the fire. For three years, I was told to leave well enough alone. To move on. I should learn from that, I know. But Alexei is in a cave in the hills, and this time I’m not fighting my own dragon. Ms. Chancellor, however, doesn’t care.
“You are not the first young girl to hear the word treasure and have her head fill with ideas. But listen to me, and listen to me carefully, Grace. Don’t think about that. Don’t let it consume you, too!”
Ms. Chancellor seems to realize that she’s yelling because she almost recoils with the words. Then she turns away from the palace and the bonfire and the tourists. She starts back toward Embassy Row as if nothing has happened at all. We walk together in silence, hearts beating, feet pounding.
“Why?” After a few minutes, it’s all I can think to say. “If it wasn’t because of the treasure, then why was Spence killed? Why go to such extreme lengths to cover it up? What aren’t you telling me?”
She stops. For a second, I’m not quite sure she’s heard me, so still does she stand upon this hill. From here you can see the embassies and the wall and the deep blue waters of the sea. But that’s not where Ms. Chancellor is looking.
The crowd blocks the street below us, filling Embassy Row. When someone throws a bottle it crashes to the cobblestones in front of Russia, shattering, splintering, and I know this isn’t a crowd. It’s not even a mob. It’s a powder keg, and Alexei is a spark.
“Look at it, Grace. Look at what’s happening.”
I think about the words she said just a few days before — how history always repeats itself. And how it’s almost always written by men. The truth about what happened two hundred years ago lives in an ancient room beneath this city. And the woman in front of me is one of the few people who know it.
“Mobs are powerful things,” she says, as if that answers my question. And I guess, in a way, it does.
“You think this is what they wanted? You think this is why Spence was killed?”
Ms. Chancellor shakes her head. For the first time since I’ve known her, she seems genuinely unsure. “Honestly, Grace. I have no idea.”
“You have to help him,” I say.
“No, Grace, we do not.”
“Then why did you tell me all of this? The Society stood aside and let a mob make a mistake two hundred years ago. Is your point that you’re going to let it happen again?”
“It’s my point that Alexei should leave the country,” Ms. Chancellor says.
“You mean run.”
“I mean he should get far away from Adria. He’s gone now. And he should stay gone. At least for the time being. If you see him” — she eyes me knowingly — “you should tell him that.”
“So you agree? Someone is trying to kill him? Someone is going to kill him?”
“I know I don’t want you to get hurt.”
It’s been almost two weeks since Ms. Chancellor shot a man to save me. She shot a man, I have to remind myself. Then I want to laugh with the irony, because, in that respect, Ms. Chancellor is far more dangerous than Alexei will ever be.
When I watch her walk away, I remember that I owe her my life. But do I owe her my obedience? My blind devotion?
My trust?
I might not trust Eleanor Chancellor, I finally admit.
And I don’t like it.
“They’re not going to help, are they?”
When I spin, I see Lila standing with her arms crossed, defiant.
I guess my face shows my answer because Lila rolls her eyes. “I knew it,” she says then mutters a word that is some kind of Portuguese insult. It’s like she’s daring fate to talk back.
“Well, at least he’s someplace safe,” she says, then raises an eyebrow. “I mean, you do have him hidden somewhere safe, don’t you?” Lila doesn’t really wait for an answer. Lila isn’t the type to wait for anything. “You and my brother and Megan. Maybe that little German freak.”
“Insult Rosie one more time and you and I are going to have a problem,” I say.
Lila raises her hands as if in truce. “Fine. Don’t tell me where he is. Just promise me he’s okay.”
Lila seems worried. No. Lila seems scared. But then I can’t help myself. I think about what the cops said, what I told Jamie. Spence was killed by someone on that island, but it wasn’t Alexei, I know it in my soul.
Lila was on the island. For the first time, I let myself wonder: What did she see? What does she know?
Does she know about the prime minister and what the Society has already covered up this summer? Does she know that the Society is likely what got my mother killed? Does Lila know about the treasure that may or may not be hidden in the hills or beneath our feet? Somehow, I don’t think I’ll ever know.
“Alexei was the first friend I made in Adria,” Lila says then slowly turns to me. “It was three years ago, and our father had just been posted here. Mother had already come. It was during the divorce, and Noah and I knew no one. We were citizens of two countries, but in so many ways we were without a home. Then Alexei became our friend.”
“Ms. Chancellor says he should leave the country and I should stop sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. If I were smart, I’d probably do what they tell me for once, but —”
“You’re new,” Lila says. It’s almost like an accusation.
“I’ve been coming to Valancia every summer since I was born, so I’m not new.”
Lila doesn’t seem mad. She just shrugs and goes on. “You’re new to us. To me and Noah. You didn’t know us. Before.”
“Before what?”
“Before our parents got divorced? Before they relocated to Adria? Before our world turned upside down? Take your pick. You didn’t know us before everything went to pieces and Noah learned how to please everyone.” Lila pierces me with a glare. “I learned there’s no use trying to please anyone.”
“So?” I ask.
For the first time I can remember, Lila actually smiles at me.
“So if the Society isn’t going to help and the police think he’s guilty, and his own father was willing to throw him to the wolves … what are we going to do about it?”
“We?” I ask.
“Alexei was my friend long before you came back
and started stirring up trouble. So, yes, what are we going to do?”
Are you sure this is a good idea?” Noah asks as he looks up and down the deserted stretch of beach. We’re too far from the city gates for tourists or even the locals to bother us. The sun is high and there’s no wind coming in off the sea. It’s the hottest day of summer so far, and I’m starting to sweat, but even though we haven’t seen a soul in ages, I can’t blame it entirely on the heat.
“I mean, are you absolutely certain?” Noah asks again.
Is he asking if I’m sure I wasn’t followed out of the tunnel that took me from inside the US to the alley behind a mosque deep in the heart of the city? Is he wondering if this is the best use of our time and limited resources? Or maybe Noah, like the rest of us, is just terrified that this is yet another in a long history of Grace’s Very Bad Ideas.
I’m not certain, so I look at Megan.
“According to my sources,” Megan says, which I’m pretty sure is code for I hacked into the police mainframe, but please don’t tell my mom, “the police are finished on the island. They’ve combed every inch of it for clues, and no one is planning on going back.”
Which is good because it means nobody is going to bother us.
Which is bad because it means that there’s probably nothing out there to find.
But the police weren’t there that night. They never met Spence. They don’t know Alexei. And as long as there’s a chance, no matter how slim, we have to take it.
“Besides,” Megan adds with a shrug, “if the police do show up, well … we’re not the first kids to go out to that island. I think the whole world pretty much knows that by now.”
I look at the island in the distance, floating and shimmering like a mirage. Spence died there. Part of me never wants to set foot on those rocky shores again. Part of me knows I won’t sleep until I do.
“Should I go get the boat?” Megan asks, but I shake my head.
“We have another ride coming,” I say.
“Who?” Rosie sounds concerned.
But there’s already a boat on the horizon coming this way, and coming fast. A silky black ponytail waves in the wind, and before the boat even slows down, Noah starts shaking his head. He’s actually backing away.
“Grace, you can’t be serious.” Noah stares at his sister, slack-jawed and a little afraid.
“Lila is going to help us.”
For a second, my friends stand silent.
Leave it to Rosie to say what everyone else is thinking. “Are you sure we can trust her? I mean, she was there. Maybe she killed Spence? I mean, could Lila kill someone? At least I think Lila could kill someone.”
We all turn to Noah, who seems offended we would have to ask. “My sister? Oh, she could absolutely kill someone. But then she’d look you straight in the eye and tell you why she did it and how much better off the world is for her bravery. Lila might be a killer, in other words, but she’s no liar.”
“Plus, she was there that night, and she’s spent a lot of time on the island.” I think about the Society and Lila’s mom and how she’s been a part of this longer than I have. Some might say I’m keeping my enemies closer, but I just repeat, “Lila is going to help us.”
Noah stumbles a little. “I’m sorry. I cannot get used to hearing my sister’s name and the word help in the same sentence.”
We all watch as Lila pulls the boat up to the pier and lets it coast into position. I know I should say something, to defend Lila or maybe just my own good sense. But it’s no use because Lila’s already staring up at Noah.
“I know that island better than any of you,” she says. “So I’m coming.”
“Perhaps,” Noah counters. “But I know you better than any of them, so excuse me if I’m a little concerned about how much help you might actually be.”
“Noah …” Lila begins, but what follows is a stream of Portuguese so fast I could never hope to follow.
Noah throws his hands in the air and shouts back in Hebrew.
Another Hebrew insult from Lila followed by Noah’s favorite Portuguese swearword.
Lila huffs, offended. But she doesn’t turn and stomp away.
The fight swirls, a cloud of language and flying hands, insults the same in every language.
Finally, Rosie looks at me. “You want me to handle this?” she asks.
“Be my guest,” I say.
What comes next is a sound like nothing I have ever heard before. Part whistle. Part yodel. It pierces the air, a sound so fierce that Megan actually puts her hands over her ears. In the distance, dogs begin to bark. And, on the pier, Noah and his twin finally stand silent.
“Thank you, Rosie.” I give her a smile then turn to the others. “Now, as I was saying, Lila is going to help us.”
“But —” Noah starts, and Lila cuts him off.
“I’m not here for you,” she snaps. A smug smile crosses her face. “I’m here for him.”
When the door to the boat’s small cabin swings open, it seems to happen in slow motion. Even though we’re far from town and took every crazy and overly cautious detour to get here, I’m terrified when I see Alexei step out into the sun.
Dark stubble covers his jaw, and his hair is going in about a dozen different directions. But he’s here. And, most important, he’s safe.
“You made it,” I say. I didn’t realize how worried I was until I see him standing on the deck of the boat, squinting against the glare of the sun as it bounces off the water.
Lila smiles at me. “I told you no one would follow me. We didn’t see a soul.”
Noah smirks at his sister. “Oh. Okay. This makes sense. My murder wouldn’t get her out of bed before ten.”
Lila snaps back in Hebrew and soon the two of them start again. This time, I step between them.
“Enough! Noah, leave your sister alone,” I say in my best Ms. Chancellor voice. “And, Lila, if you don’t want to go to the island, feel free to use your time otherwise. I’m sure there is something your little party-going minions didn’t tell the authorities, for example. If you don’t want to go with us, then go question them. But I’m not going to listen to the two of you argue all day. Do you understand?” I ask. They both stay quiet. “Do you?”
“Yes,” they answer in unison.
“Okay,” I say, turning for the pier. “Let’s go.”
At this time of day it’s easy for the blue water of the Mediterranean to disappear into the blue of the sky, and as we reach the island, I can’t fight the feeling that I’m returning to someplace I’ve never been. It looks so different, here in the light of day. There is no bonfire, no music. Instead of a beach covered with partying teens, there are long scrapes in the sand where things have been dragged ashore. The grass and bushes at the back of the beach have been trampled. It’s like walking into a ghost town, something once so full of life that now stands empty.
Spence died here.
And now I have to find out how.
“What now?” Rosie asks.
“Spread out, I guess,” I say. “We need to find out where he was killed, if we can. Just … look. For something. Anything that doesn’t belong. Anything that might prove … something. Anything that could indicate that there was someone out here that night besides Spence and Alexei.”
“And you,” Noah says. Something in his gaze unsettles me.
“And me,” I say. “Meet back here in two hours?”
Everyone agrees, and slowly we start to spread out down the rocky beach. Lila and Megan start toward the forest. The island feels bigger than it did in the dark, farther from land. Our phones won’t work here, and I know we’re all alone, miles from shore — from civilization. There’s nothing but the sound of the waves lapping on the beach, the wind in the trees. It’s supposed to be paradise. But it feels like something else entirely as I climb a huge stone outcropping and —
“Ouch!”
Sharp pain shoots through me as I trip over a stone that protrudes from the hillside. “W
hat the …”
“Uh … guys?” Noah calls. He’s already climbed the rocky ridge and is looking down on the beach and the water and … me. “I think you need to see this!”
There’s something in Noah’s voice that frightens me, so I run up the embankment as quickly as I can. Noah clutches my hand and helps pull me the rest of the way. The others have taken the long way around, but soon I feel my friends gather at the edge of the ridge, all of us peering down at the same eerie sight.
I didn’t trip on a boulder or an outcropping of rock, I realize. I tripped on a —
“Face!” Rosie says what everyone else is thinking. “That big rock is a face!”
“I think it’s some kind of statue,” Noah says, his voice flat, but there’s no doubt that he’s right.
I lean over the edge and peer down into the face that stares back at me from the ground. Years of age and erosion have dulled the features. The nose is smaller than it probably once was, but the lips are still closed, as if keeping a secret. And the eyes stare up at me like a giant who’s been buried alive.
Like a god who was cut down in his prime.
“Neptune.”
Part of me had just assumed that the tale Ms. Chancellor told me was some kind of myth. Or legend. Or fairy tale. But now I stare into eyes that are the size of washing machines, at a nose the size of a tiny car. In its prime, the statue must have been massive, and now it’s easy to imagine a great stone idol rising into the sky, looking out over the blue waters of the sea.
“What do you think it is?” Noah asks.
“A statue used to guard the bay before the Crusaders came,” Lila says. “I never thought I’d see it. I thought it was all gone. But it’s … here.” She gestures toward the parts of the statue that we can now identify strewn across the beach.
