Chapter 5 #2
“No, you’re not.” His whisper glided over me. The soft, almost velvety tone left me feeling dizzy, and I reached back to rest a hand on the windowsill, willing the draft to cool my skin.
“I…” I forced words up my dry throat. “I thought I was alone.”
“And someone else.” Amusement played on his tone. He pulled back an inch or so, still close. His neat aristocratic smile—the kind that came from years of etiquette and the gentle reality that life was already paved for him—tilted up in victory.
I lifted my chin, deciding to drop the pretense. “This can’t be the first time someone crashed this little secret party.”
“Nope.” He tucked his hands into his pockets.
“And you’re not going to shove me out of here,” I teased, not to flirt but to keep him talking and hopefully squeeze some information out of this flop of a night.
“It’s a secret society, not a bar. I’m a member, not a bouncer.” He shrugged casually with an almost gracious cadence to his words. “You got in, I can at least admit when I’ve been bested.”
“Really? Because I’d love to see that.” I reached for his mask. I would bet it was Conrad, but I wanted to be sure.
He grabbed my wrist, gentle but firm, and inadvertently pulled me a step closer so my chest bumped against his.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he taunted. The words pricked against my skin.
I pulled my arm back slowly to my side, giving my head a subtle shake.
“You didn’t come here to mingle or you wouldn’t be up here alone…” His tongue roamed from one cheek to the other. “So, why are you here?”
“Curiosity,” I answered honestly.
“And that’s been satisfied, so you should probably go.”
“You just said you’re not going to manhandle me out of here.”
The sliver of space between us disappeared. “What if I promise to be gentle?”
My stomach flipped.
“But I haven’t even gotten the next clue yet,” I drawled, raising a sarcastic brow.
“Next clue?”
I was reaching, sure, but there had to be more to this whole thing, right? Or were secret parties the only thing they did? Seemed like a letdown.
“There isn’t some next clue or invitation?” I goaded, propelled by the urge to stay right where I was. To bask in the hypnotic sparring. “Let me guess… it’s written somewhere ridiculous, like the back of the Declaration of Independence.”
A short laugh brushed against my cheek.
“You want to see what happens next?” he said, holding my gaze and dipping his head closer.
The air went thin. “Maybe.”
His hand moved to my hair and I let it, fingers skimming along the ribbons of my mask. His proximity was intoxicating, distracting. But his eyes, like clear ocean water sparkling on a bright day—they made me want to relax into the moment and just float.
Chills cascaded down my neck as one of the ribbons came loose and my mask fell into his hand. His lips were millimeters from mine as something passed through his eyes. Calm waters became stormy.
He blinked rapidly and pulled back.
“Sorry.” His jaw flexed. “But you can’t stay.” He turned and motioned for me to follow him down the steps. “You don’t belong here.”
The thread suspending the moment snapped with a cold rush of reality. My muscles went rigid.
I didn’t belong; obviously, I knew that. I didn’t want entry to his ridiculous club. I needed information on it, which I’d now come to understand was a waste of time.
I set my jaw and swallowed the indignation. “Got it.”
I tied my mask back on and followed him down the steps I’d taken such care to nonchalantly climb up earlier.
My mind whirled with all the things I tried to take note of, now that my only chance at peeking behind the veil was evaporating before me. I looked down as we descended and noticed almost nobody was left in the foyer or by the bar despite the music still playing.
I craned my neck, taking in my surroundings with fresh eyes.
We’d been on the top floor, so if anyone left the way I came, I’d have seen them from that vantage point.
Curiosity spiked.
“Where is everyone?” I asked.
Conrad stayed silent at my side as I peered over the railing in time to see someone disappearing through a stone-lined doorway from the bottommost steps.
The ones below ground level. Below the entrance.
“Where are they going?” I repeated, this time knowing there was something down there.
“Not important.” His eyes stayed glued forward.
He knew.
It clicked in my head.
My memory raced with everything I’d gathered about this “secret society.” The catacombs—an underground tunnel system beneath the school—had always been my favorite story, simply because it seemed the most far-fetched, but how did more than thirty people vanish into thin air?
“Students using the fabled Winchester catacombs to party hop…?” I injected my voice with boredom, trying to drown out the pounding of my heart in my ears.
His muscles jumped.
I’m right.
“Honestly, it seems sort of boring,” I continued, hoping to maybe bait him into saying something more. “Like a waste of perfectly good lore.”
A secret passageway that only the wealthy kids had access to? There wasn’t a better metaphor for the myth of the meritocracy.
I had a story.
The story.
One that I knew could hold up against every other submission.
We made it to the landing, and as we approached the door, I noticed three words etched into the stone on the frame.
Verbum Numquam Mori
“Does it?” Conrad’s hand pressed at the small of my back, heat spindled out from his touch. He guided me down the steps to the waiting car.
“Yeah, like passing around a candy jar filled with pills.” My eyes darted around frantically as I did my best to bide my time. “Woefully unoriginal.”
“Good night, Malena.” He pointed over my shoulder to the black car, the driver getting out to open the back door.
I ignored the warm tingle from hearing my name exit his mouth.
I got in the car, but I wasn’t defeated.
That was my angle.
I wasn’t about to take a gamble on winning.
Because that feeling, the one I got when I first turned on my burner phone—when the world flashed from black and white to brilliant technicolor—was only possible thanks to the two-Malena system.
It bent the security bars around my life and widened them so I could pass through.
I’d learned a lot of things since I got to college, but one resonated most: I had to blur certain lines so I wouldn’t cross them.
This wasn’t any different.