by Stella Hart
“Really?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I’m the only one he even speaks to, and as you just overheard, that doesn’t always turn out so well.”
“I’m sorry. That sucks.”
“Yup. Anyway, I was worried you’d start to ask questions about Crown and Dagger that I actually knew the answer to, and I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from telling you. Like I said, you’re my best friend. I can’t lie to you. But on the other hand, if I told you all this stuff I knew and helped you infiltrate the society to get information for your paper, my dad might find out. He would be pissed, and I don’t want to get cut out like Henry. You know I’m a total daddy’s girl. I can’t stand the thought of that happening to me.”
Her eyes were wide and worried. I reached out to pat her arm. “So that’s why you’ve been avoiding me? You thought I’d accidentally get you in trouble with your family?”
“Yeah.” She nodded miserably, then let out a deep sigh. “God, I’ve been a real bitch. I didn’t even realize how much I was avoiding you until you confronted me.”
“No, I get it. I’m sorry for putting you in such a weird position. But seriously, if you ever told me anything at all, it’d never come back on you. I promise,” I said, putting one hand on my heart. “I’d never let anyone find out you said anything.”
“Not even Greer or Willa?” she said, concern flashing in her eyes. “I mean, Greer has a pretty big mouth, and Willa’s dad is friends with my dad. So it could’ve gotten back to—”
I smiled and cut her off before she started babbling again. “No, I wouldn’t tell them. Cross my heart and hope to die.”
She took a deep breath, then gave me a sheepish smile. “I guess I kinda overreacted, right?”
I returned her smile. “Just a bit.”
“I mean, even if Dad found out I told you stuff, he’d be mad as hell but he probably wouldn’t cut me out like he did with Henry. They always had a lot of other issues before they hit that breaking point.”
“Well, there you go. You have nothing to worry about. Like you said, you’re a daddy’s girl. He wouldn’t kick you out of the family.” I patted her arm. “So… we’re all good? I didn’t do anything to offend you?”
“Of course you didn’t! And look, if you can absolutely promise that you’ll never let it come back on me….” Mellie paused mid-sentence, then leaned closer, as if her father was right in the room with us and might overhear. “I could probably help you sneak into their next second-level initiation ceremony.”
“Really?” My heart leapt.
She looked uncertain again. “Well, it wouldn’t be easy. But I think I could swing it,” she said slowly. “We just have to be really, really careful.”
I squealed. “Oh my god. That’d be so amazing! Thank you!”
“Don’t thank me yet. I still need to think of a way to get you in,” she said, her brows knitted. “I mean, I know where it is and all, but security is watertight. We can’t just walk in.”
“Why is security so much tighter at the ceremony than it is at the Tomb?”
She waved her hand. “Like I said before, the Tap Week party is really just a way to show off to the newbies. Only the younger members go, aside from the society president, and from what Dad has told me, they basically expect outsiders to try and sneak in. Nothing happens there except wild sex and a ton of drinking and partying, so they don’t really care. Letting the occasional outsider sneak in and see it all—with the masks and robes and whatever—kinda adds to their mystique. Or so they think. Personally I think it’s totally lame.”
“So why do they feel the need to hide what happens at their other events? Is there something worth hiding?” I asked in a low voice.
She laughed. “Not really. I think most of their higher-level initiation ceremonies and parties are just a bunch of old dudes getting wasted in the woods. But they do some really weird shit out there, as per tradition. Strange rituals and so on. So I guess they don’t want outsiders getting in and seeing them, because the older members have reputations to protect. They don’t want photos of them getting drunk in the woods, banging hookers, snorting coke and chanting with flaming torches to get out to the media. Not when they have family names and high profile careers to worry about.”
“Oh. Right. Well, speaking of certain members….” I quickly filled her in on what had been happening with the weird texts I’d been getting this morning.
“Ugh, what an asshole!” she said when I finished, eyes narrowed.
“Is it anything to be worried about?”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Some of the younger Crown and Dagger guys get kinda drunk on power when they first get elected to the society. They like to throw their weight around because the whole world basically just got handed to them on a silver platter and they want to ‘prove’ what they’re now capable of as a result. I guess one of them must’ve decided to try and scare you after seeing you at the party last night. And it worked. He got you. But seriously, don’t stress about it. I really don’t think they’d hurt you.”
I chewed my bottom lip. “You sure?”
“As sure as I can be. I mean, obviously I don’t know everything about the society. Only what I’ve picked up from Dad.”
“Oh.”
Mellie’s forehead creased with concern. “Like I said, I can’t be entirely sure, so if you’re worried, we won’t try and sneak you into the ceremony. I don’t want you to be all freaked out over it. A college paper isn’t worth that.”
I took a deep breath and thought about Halliwell’s class. If I sneaked into a Crown and Dagger initiation ceremony and witnessed what went on, separating fact from legend for my paper, I would get an A for sure. I’d be the first person to ever manage that in her class, and a professor like her was a good one to be noticed by. She had a lot of connections, so if she liked and respected a student, she could easily help them with future internships and jobs.
“I still want to do it,” I said.
Mellie nodded and leaned back, her brows knitted in deep thought. “I’ll have to try and come up with a way to get you in. There must be something I can do,” she muttered.
“Well, while you think about it, can I ask some stuff about the society? I promise I won’t write it down anywhere. It’ll all stay right up here,” I said, tapping the side of my head with a finger.
“Sure.”
I outlined what I’d figured out during the party last night, regarding the different levels and the colors they wore. “Is that right?” I asked.
Mellie nodded. “Yes. Brand new recruits wear brown robes during initiation week, and after that they’re considered first-level and wear dark blue robes. Second is red, third is black.”
“How long does someone stay at the first level?”
Mellie shrugged. “Anywhere between a year and their entire lifetime.”
I crinkled my forehead. “Why?”
“You don’t actually need to progress to the second level, or the third. At the first level, you get financial gifts, houses, and all the connections you could possibly need to succeed. In return, you offer your own connections to current and future members for the rest of your life. If you’re happy with that and don’t really meet the criteria to go up a level, then you can remain quite happily at the first level forever. Several past US Presidents and Vice Presidents have been first-level Crown and Dagger guys.”
“Really?” My eyes widened.
“Yup.”
“Wow. So what’s the difference between the first and second levels?”
Her lips tightened. “I’m not entirely sure, but I know the society watches certain members they think might be fit for the second level. If and when they’re considered ready—as in trustworthy with a certain personality type—they’re selected for initiation into the second level. It happens in a ceremony in fall, a few weeks after Tap Week. That’s the one I’m going to try to sneak you into.”
“So you don’t know what they actually do
at second level?”
“No. From what I’ve managed to glean from Dad, they’re privy to certain secrets. No idea what, though.” She shrugged. “Oh, and they get to use this huge vacation house on some private island that the first-levels aren’t allowed at.”
“And the third level?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know anything about it at all. My father would never tell me, so I’m pretty sure those secrets go to the grave with the members who reach it. They can’t let anything slip about it to anyone, not even their wife or kids. Ever. I get the impression that’s the level where they might actually kill you if you revealed their secrets.”
That certainly sounded ominous. “Do you know any details about the ceremony you’re going to try and get me into?”
“A bit. Dad is responsible for organizing it, so he’s told me a few things here and there, and he even showed me a few short video clips once. He burned them afterwards, of course,” she said with a wily smile. “Anyway, I know it’s different to the first initiation ceremony that brand new recruits go through on Tap Night. That one happens here at Roden and involves a bunch of trials, like solving riddles, diving into the moat around Reid Library to find a hidden object, and proving their worth in other ways. But the initiation into the second level is different. It happens way out in the woods on private property, and it’s very… weird.”
I arched a brow. “How so?”
She scooted closer to me, as if she were still worried someone might hear us. “It’s just strange, ritualistic kind of stuff. There’s fire, chanting, music, weird kinds of shows put on for them. Almost like a carnival. They hire actors to play all the people and creatures in their shows, and—” She stopped midsentence and jumped up. “Oh my god. That’s it.”
“Hm?”
“They have to hire actors and actresses for the shows, and half of them have background people, like women standing around in Grecian gowns with wreaths and masks. We could try and get you in as one of them!”
“How? You said security is crazy tight. I can’t just show up and say ‘Hey, I’m an actress, can I come in?’” I said with a teasing smile.
She shook her head impatiently. “Of course not. But my dad organizes it, remember? He’s responsible for keeping track of the people they hire, organizing the payroll and making sure they all sign ironclad non-disclosure agreements. I’ve seen him looking at all the information on spreadsheets before, when he thought I wasn’t looking over his shoulder. So if I could somehow get in his office and get on his computer when he’s not there, I could probably find one of the spreadsheets where the upcoming ceremony staff members are listed with their contact details and so on. I could add you to the list of actresses and say in your notes that you’ve already done an interview and signed the NDA.”
My skin prickled with excitement. “What would happen after that?”
She chewed her bottom lip. “I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I think you’d be contacted with some sort of password and instructions a few days before the ceremony, and they’d also send you the outfit they want you to wear. Oh, and I’m pretty sure they’d pick you up on the night. That way they never have to tell you the address.”
I cocked my head to the side. “That all sounds great, but it also sounds way too easy. What’s the catch?”
“It’s not easy, trust me. It’ll be really hard for me to get into Dad’s office and figure out his laptop password. I might not even be able to do it at all.”
“Oh, right.” I nodded slowly. “Well, if you can, that would be amazing. Seriously.”
“I’ll do my best. I think the ceremony is in three weeks, so I’ve got a while to try.”
“Cool.” I nibbled the inside of my cheek and frowned as something occurred to me. “Is it really the best idea to put my real name in your dad’s spreadsheet, though? If he’s going through and double-checking it, won’t he get suspicious that your best friend happens to be an actress he supposedly hired and forgot all about?”
“Oh, jeez. Good point. I’ll put a fake name and address. I know of a few houses in town that are empty at the moment,” she replied. “Ooh, and I can wait there with you on the night and make sure it all goes to plan.”
“If it doesn’t, and they catch me and want to know how I found out their secrets, I’ll tell them I received anonymous tips from a member, okay? That way they’ll never suspect it was you who told me anything, and your family will have no reason to be pissed at you.”
She smiled. “Great idea. Thanks.”
I grinned back at her. “If this actually works, it’s gonna be so awesome.”
Mellie winked. “Let’s just hope it does, then. And hey, if the journalism thing doesn’t work out for you, you could try being an undercover cop. We both could.”
I laughed. One of my favorite movies was actually about an undercover detective. Several of my favorite books, too. The idea of slipping into a world I didn’t belong in filled me with heady anticipation and rushing adrenaline.
I guess it was a way of finding excitement in the undercover aspect of my own drab existence. After all, I was currently sitting in a world I didn’t truly belong in. This elite private college, these richer-than-God people, this high-class culture. I wasn’t raised like most of them; wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth.
I was painfully aware of the fact that I didn’t dress ‘properly’, I didn’t always know which spoon to use at fancy dinner tables, and I didn’t understand a lot of the inside jokes and references so many of them spouted. I didn’t fit in. But with my Roden scholarship, I was allowed inside. I was allowed a seat at the table.
I might never truly be one of them, but at least I had an opportunity to see what it was all about. My very own undercover mission. At least that’s what it felt like most of the time.
Now, I had a chance to venture even deeper into the everyday existence of America’s elite. I was so excited that thrilling shivers were already racing up and down my spine, making goosebumps rise on my skin.
Watch out, Crown and Dagger. I’m coming for you.
6
Elias
“Pull!”
A black clay target shot out of the elevated trap thrower several yards to my left. My father narrowed his eyes and aimed his shotgun before pulling the trigger. The target exploded in midair, a thousand dark shards raining to the earth.
“Still got it,” he said smugly, looking over at me. “Your turn.”
We were out at Barnaby Grove, an exclusive sporting association for wealthy gun-lovers like my father. Everyone knew the rich had clubs for things like golfing and yachting, but not many people were aware of the existence of places like this. Barnaby was set on 2000 acres with facilities for plain old target shooting, sporting clays, and a trap field. There was also a fortified gun vault in the main building which held over 500 guns, many of which were worth over six figures.
The club boasted several billionaires and business titans as members, and it only accepted fifty members at a time. Of course, my father and I were shoo-ins. The King name would open any door in this country.
We had shooting ranges set up at several of our own private properties, naturally, but my father enjoyed the exclusive Barnaby membership anyway. It was yet another way he could slyly brag to business associates and lord it over them, given that ninety-nine percent of them would never be offered a membership here no matter how hard they tried.
I lifted my shotgun and waited for the target to fly out. Pressing my finger down on the trigger a second later, I swore softly as the bullet veered off to the side, missing the clay plate entirely.
“You’re rusty,” Dad said.
I shrugged. “I suppose so.”
“Hold it a little lower. Also, be sure to keep the fifth of October free,” he said, changing the subject at random as he so often did. “The second-level initiation ceremony is that night. All Crown and Dagger members who can make it are expected to be there.”
I scoff
ed. “You really think I’d miss it?”
He grinned broadly. “Oh, of course. You wouldn’t dream of it, considering what we have planned for you. How could I forget?”
“Maybe your memory is failing in your old age.”
“At least I can still hit a target,” he said with a superior, thin-lipped smile. “You’re twenty-three. What’s your excuse?”
“Like you said, I’m rusty. But speaking of my age, I’ll be twenty-four in less than six months. Am I going to make it to third?”
Instead of happening once a year like the first and second-level initiation ceremonies, the third-level ceremonies were conducted individually once a member reached a certain point of trust in the organization. I knew very little about the third level, other than that the minimum age for acceptance was twenty-four. Before that, members wouldn’t even be considered.
My father gave me an incredulous look. “Just because I’m the society president doesn’t mean I can tell you anything about that. No favoritism allowed.”
“I’m sure you could give me a hint,” I said, my upper lip curling slightly. “I happen to know very well that favoritism does exist within the council ranks, because Henry Davenport is still alive.”
“That’s none of your concern.” He narrowed his eyes coldly. “You might not even progress to the third level, Elias. Just being my son brings no guarantee, and sometimes I doubt you have what it takes.”
I stiffened. “Why?”
He was silent for a moment, staring out at the gray sky as a dark flock of birds flew past. “You often remind me of your mother.”
“How so?” I asked, my frown deepening.
I never met my mother. Sylvie King died giving birth to me, so I never knew her or grieved over her. She bled to death, my father told me. Sometimes it happened, even in the best hospitals in the world, and there was nothing any doctor could do to stop the hemorrhaging, no matter how qualified he or she was.
