Chapter Five
I expected a brutish face,something square and squinty-eyed, but he’s nothing like that. His face is strong but delicate; stubble scruffs the hard, angular line of his jaw. Dark hair is cropped short over his narrowed eyes, visibly long-lashed even from here. One of those eyes sports a deep purple bruise. The residue of a hefty punch, no doubt… I’m almost lightheaded at the thought. Who in their right mind would try to fight someone like this? I don’t want to imagine how the other guy looks.
“That’s a GOD, all right,” Harper gushes. “Holy shit. In fact, I think he might be…”
Her voice fades from my awareness. I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from him as he crosses the room—and I’m not the only one. His moves are deliberate, harsh, drawing the attention of everyone he passes. Even after he disappears out the door, the commanding rhythm of his body remains vivid in my mind.
“Wow.” I don’t mean to say the word aloud, but it spills out of its own accord.
“Totally, right? What a stunner. Dating a guy like that, can you even imagine? Though I heard they can get kind of cultish.” She narrows her eyes. “Have you at least heard about that little secret?”
My chest lights up, excitement tearing my attention from the thought of the guy with the tattoos. If she’s talking about what I think she’s talking about—if my mother’s journal entries were accurate—but I can’t jump the gun too quickly. If I end up accidentally spilling something to her…
“Maybe.” I lean in closer, my voice lowering. “At least… I know that some people think there’s something going on here… behind the scenes.”
From the look in her eyes, she knows exactly what I mean.
“It’s kind of spooky, isn’t it? Hush-hush clubs are one thing, but underground tunnels? Really? I mean, don’t you think those would be common knowledge by now if they actually existed?”
“I don’t know…” I have to play my cards carefully here. I can’t let her—or anyone—know that I’m going on more than mere rumors. “Some people are really good at keeping secrets. I’ve known a lot of them.”
“I reckon I can crack anyone,” Harper smirks.
Another bite spares me the need to reply. She doesn’t know how quickly my heart is beating, how frantically my thoughts are racing. If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s keeping my emotions under wraps.
My mother’s journals never gave it a name—she only ever referred to it as the Order. Lines from her entries that I’ve long since memorized echo in my head:
I can’t believe I’m writing this, but I’ve received an invitation…
Order meeting again tonight, underground at midnight…
Harper is still eating away without a care in the world. It’s cute, really, how confident she is in herself. I admire it, I really do—but a smaller, darker part of me can’t help but laugh.
If she only knew.
“It’s all bullshit, anyway,” Harper declares. “GODs aren’t cultists. They’re just agonizingly sexy hunks—and the best party throwers on campus. Their big back-to-school bash is happening tomorrow—you’re going with me, by the way.”
“Who decided that?”
“Me, about thirty seconds ago.” Worry flashes across her face. “You will, right? I just can’t go alone. And I don’t think Sage and Aimee are exactly the type to take me up on an invite.”
“They do seem pretty….”
“Stuck up? Bitchy? Please. You don’t know the half of it.” She gives her head a glum shake. “Apparently everyone from their sorority is like that.”
“They’re in a sorority, too?”
“Sigma Upsilon Chi. You know how the GODs go by an acronym? So do the SUCs. A less flattering one, though.”
This girl really does know everything.
“But you’re not interested in that one.”
“Ew, no. I’ve got my heart set on Omega Phi.” She props her chin in her hand, eyes growing dreamy and distant. “I swear I’d kill to get in.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised. Things get pretty cutthroat around here.”
If my suspicions are right, she doesn’t even know the half of it.
“Well.” I gather my scraped-clean dishes into a neat pile. “If we’re going to any parties, I’m gonna need to get some sleep.”
“Yikes, yeah.” She glances at her phone. “Holy shit, is it seriously past nine already? Today has, like, totally flown by. I haven’t even finished unpacking yet.” She springs out of her seat, grabs her tray, and brings it over to a wide black dish bin perched on a nearby counter. I follow suit, setting my own dishes on top of hers, and stick right behind her as she strolls out the glass doors and up the stairs.
My pace slows as soon as we reach the top. The campus looked beautiful during the day, yes, but that doesn’t hold a candle to how stunning it is at night. Lights glow from behind the castle’s windows, scattered across its stony face like an amber constellation. A soft, sea-salted breeze stirs the grass, silver in the faint light of the waning crescent moon; above us, the deep navy dome of the sky stretches dark and starless. As far as I can see, we’re the only ones out here—everyone else has already retreated to their dorms.
“Jesus. This is kinda spooky, isn’t it?” Harper mutters.
Spooky? I guess I can see where she’s coming from, but that’s not the word I would use at all. There’s an undeniable serenity to the darkness. It feels like home—well, as much as anything does for someone like me.
Still, it’s chilly out here, and I’m not tempted to linger. The wash of light and warmth that greets us when we reach the dorm is more than welcome, and I only spare the vacant quad and silent castle a final quick glance before the door thunders shut behind us.
Laughter flows from the end of the hallway, where twenty or so girls are gathered in the lounge, chatting away without a care in the world. Part of me longs to join them, to share in whatever their jokes and gossip may be—but exhaustion weighs my steps down. There’ll be plenty of time for that later, when I’m not struggling to keep my eyes open.
Harper presses the button for the elevator and leans against the wall, trying and failing to stifle a yawn. “Shit, I’m wiped. Oh God, I hope Sage and Aimee don’t stay up super late. Did you hear that music they were playing earlier? Yuck.”
The elevator dings and slides open. It’s quiet inside, and glistening clean despite the throngs of students that have surely been using it all day. Harper hits the button for the twelfth floor, lurching us upwards.
“I mean, stuff like that, it’s like it was made to grate on your ears. I swear I’ve never heard anyone play those kinds of bands at a reasonable volume.” She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head, as if trying to dislodge even the memories of the sound from her mind. “I’m way more of a pop-country girl. You?”
Uh-oh. Music. I know this is something teenagers love. It’s also something that Papa keeps out of the house whenever possible. He always said that he just found it unpleasant, but after reading my mother’s letter—learning about her passion for the piano—I’ve begun to suspect that his motive is much sadder than sheer dislike.
“I sort of listen to whatever,” I say, shrugging.
“Like what? Favorite bands?”
“Um…”
To my relief, the elevator comes to a halt before my silence stretches into something awkward. I hurry ahead of Harper, muttering something about the bathroom.
I discover upon twisting the knob that our door is unlocked. Worse than that, Sage and Aimee aren’t inside—I even peek in their bedrooms to be sure. Nothing.
Crap. That’s not good.
“Did we lock up when we left?” Turning toward Harper, I try and fail to quell the rise of my heart rate.
She pauses to think as the door shuts behind her. “Uh… I don’t remember. It doesn’t really matter, does it? I mean, I don’t have anything worth stealing. Like, there’s my laptop, I guess, but isn’t everyone on campus crazy rich? They don’t have any reason to be poking around.”
Theft isn’t the only thing I’m worried about, though.
There aren’t any obvious signs of an intruder—the sitting area looks just how we left it, as does my bedroom. Laptop, safe. Purse, safe. I drop to my knees and reach under the bed to haul out my duffel bag—it feels just as heavy as before. That’s a good sign. My fingers instinctively find the cold metal of the lock, and I give it a hard tug. It doesn’t budge.
The adrenaline creeps out of my body, leaving me shaky and breathless.
Paranoia. That’s all this is. The day’s wild spiral of events is taking its toll on me.
Come on, Lia. Don’t mess this up.
A shower. That’s what I need.
The bathroom is spacious and welcoming, a pearly oasis of marble and glass and white cotton. I turn the shower up to maximum heat and undress, already savoring the steam that wafts through the air.
As soon as I’m under the spigot, a deep wave of relaxation courses through me. The heavy pressure of the stream works like a massage, unweaving the knots of tension clustered in my neck and shoulders.
Scattered details of the day scroll through my mind’s eye. The grizzled cab driver, the snide blonde girl, the smirking security guard… and that guy, the one from the cafeteria.
I can still feel the rough heat of his tightly muscled arm as he’d shoved past me. My fingers drift to the precise spot on my bicep where our bodies collided. No bruise—yet. Is it sore, or is that my imagination?
What would he have done if I had followed my instincts and stood up for myself? Would he apologize? Or would those vivid eyes just gloss over, unimpressed by the entitled little blonde girl who thought she had the right to snap at him?
A slow, strange warmth throbs through me, disturbing in its intensity. I’m on the edge of realizing something, and, for a reason I can’t describe, it frightens me.
Ugh. Screw this.
I shut off the water and grab a towel. It’s even softer than it looks. I take my time drying off, savoring the sweet kiss of cotton against my heat-tender skin. Hazel eyes regard me questioningly through the fog in the mirror.
Is that what you are, Lia Morgan? Just an entitled little girl?
I guess I don’t know yet. I’ll just have to wait and see.
Once I return to my bedroom, the clock on my phone informs me that it’s just a few minutes past nine. Early for sure, but that doesn’t stop me from pulling on my pajamas—pale lavender silk, one of my favorite sets—and crawling into bed. The pillows are cool and soft against my cheek, the duvet reassuringly heavy. I close my eyes and clutch Ella’s tiny plush body close to my chest. Her worn-cotton scent eases my mind, and within seconds my thoughts stop spiraling and fraying, growing faint and nonsensical as I enter into a deep, dreamless sleep.