Chapter 21
21
“ I 'm not alone, mom.” My heels click on the sidewalk as I hurry along. I'm definitely alone. Hopefully, my mom would call someone if I screamed. Abduction is still a possibility; I’ve been grabbed already once this week.
“It's a short walk, and it’s not that dark out.” Another lie. The concert hall is a fair jaunt, and vespers is that last service for All Souls cathedral. Which is why it's the perfect time to call my mom, aside from it being mid-afternoon back home. We often talk at night for me, since I'm up late and my first class takes place somewhere around one in the morning for my parents.
A chill seeps through my sweater and I regret not wearing my green coat. I still can't bring myself to put it on. Dominic refuses to see me, even to allow me to drop off food, and Li treats me like I'm going to bite her at any moment. So much for having made normal friends here. I've poisoned everything, to be honest. Clara has been avoiding me for the past week too, not that I blame her. She got a full serving of the weirdness that is Kendall right now when it comes to me.
We chat for a while about my classes. I convey the monumental pile that is my reading.
“I worry about you staying up so late every night. Are you taking care of yourself?”
My ankle falters on the uneven sidewalk, which puts me in the path of an oncoming bicycle. A whoosh of air gusts around me as the woman yells something at me in a British accident, the wheel of her tire grazing my bag. “Mom, I'm taking great care of myself. Everyone here has loads of studying. It's almost the end of term, anyhow. I'll get a few weeks off." Lies, all of it. Well, except the studying. It's why the libraries are twenty-four hour institutions.
“Are you sure you can't come home for Christmas?”
“It's just too expensive.” As it is, my check from the last test is just barely going to cover my books and food for this term. “I'll be home in the summer.” Probably. Maybe. Possibly. “How is empty nest life? Have you taken up cribbage yet?”
“Your Dad and I have been using our evenings to go through your grandma’s things. We should have done this years ago, when she died. We thought Grandpa had done some of the work, but it’s clear now that neither one got rid of anything before they died. Can I send you pictures in case there's anything you want to keep?”
My heart quickens at the mention of my grandparents. "Oh, yeah sure. Hey, speaking of, did you know that Grandpa went here?"
There's a long silence. “Yes,” she says, finally. “I did. Well, your father knew, at any rate, and told me recently. Your grandmother went there as well, in fact.”
I stop dead in my tracks, earning me another angry bell ring from a cyclist. “And you didn't tell me?” I pull out my fob and hold it up to the big wooden door in the stone wall to my left.
“There isn't much to tell. I gather he had a terrible experience there, and didn't enjoy talking about it.”
“And Grandma?”
“You know she never went against your grandfather’s wishes.”
I want to shake my fist at the sky. “You don’t know what happened?”
She sighs. “Your Dad doesn't know much either. Your grandpa forbade him from going—anyone in the family—but it just... after he died it seemed like a silly grudge to uphold. He always said he was protecting you from the worst sort in the world. He really hated the Brits, especially for a man who married one. They never visited England once after emigrating. But just look at how wrong he was. You’re doing wonderfully there.”
I stop just outside my door. Given the All Saints pin on his lapel in the picture, his concerns seem a little more pointed.
My mom gives a laugh. “Don’t take it too seriously, hon. Your grandfather was borderline paranoid. For a long time, he asked to look at your school rosters. We always thought he was just doting on you, that and he didn’t like the American school system. But your Dad thinks he was making sure no Brits were in your class. Odd or not, he was a wonderful man. I don’t want to color your memories of him with this stuff.”
My stomach drops again. “That is out-there behavior.”
“We chalked it up to whatever terrible company he kept at school. And after he passed, we decided his vendetta against Oxford had gone on long enough. Maybe it's your destiny to go there. As crazy as it sounds, you've always wanted to go. Your father and I were nervous but it seems like you were meant to carry on the family lineage or something. To right the wrongs, whatever Oxford did to your grandfather. We are so proud of you.”
I press my head against my door. “It's beyond what I could have imagined,” I say.
“You sound tired. I'll send you pictures of their things, and you tell me if there's anything you want to keep, okay?”
I unlock my door and press it open. I blink as light spills out of my door. I hadn't left any lights on.
“Yeah, Great. Bye.” I peer cautiously inside. Surely a robber would have waited in the dark? I catch sight of a figure in my room, an arrogant set to his shoulders. I keep the phone in my hand in case I need to use it to call the police.
“How did you get into my room?” I pause halfway in my door, not sure if I should run.
Kendall turns from the window as if this happens every day. He doesn't answer my question, he just holds out an envelope. Familiar thick paper. With a thunk, I drop my purse and keys on my desk before reaching for it.
“You passed,” he says as he watches me rip open the envelope and stare at the check in my hand.
My eyes fly to his face before reading the amount on the check again. I cough. “Are you serious?” It's more money than I've ever had in my entire life, including right before I bought my car last year.
The smile he gives me isn't amused.
The scale... the scale of this check is ten times what I got before. My head swims. This is my reward for simply charming donors at a party? I slide into my desk chair and stare at it. “Everyone got this?”
“Everyone who passed. The others receive a parting bonus if they keep their NDA.”
Disbelieving, I raise my eyes to meet his. He’s holding out another envelope, which I tear open without ceremony. “A plane ticket?”
“For the term holidays. We'll be taking the scholarship recipients to a private party at an estate owned by one of the donors. Attendance is mandatory.”
I squint at him. “The last test?”
He shrugs. “Your scholarship covers food, lodging, and travel. You are expected to bring the wardrobe items listed on the itinerary.”
I stare at the ticket. Ireland. I get to see more of Europe. I never pictured any of the tests taking us away from Oxford. Nor getting to travel on someone else’s dime. I start picturing all of the things in Ireland I’ve always wanted to see. The Cliff of Mohr, standing stones, Loch Ness?—
Kendall clears his throat.
I glance up, having momentarily forgotten his looming presence. "Um, thanks for the delivery."
He doesn't move.
I raise an eyebrow.
“What you were talking to your mom about. Your grandparents.” It’s a statement, and not a question.
I throw up my hands and stand, anger giving me the steadying my nerves need. “So you were eavesdropping and lurking?”
“She was on speakerphone.”
“You broke into my room.”
“I used a key,” he says, offended.
Well, that’s unsettling. “That conversation was private.”
“I can tell you more. I can tell you what I've found out. But you have to promise me you'll keep it to yourself. Your family can't know.”
I blink rapidly, thrown off. “Tell me more about what exactly?”
“Your grandfather.”
I snort derisively. “As if you know more about my grandfather than my parents?”
“I know, ” he draws out the word, “because it’s tied to why I’m here. Why you’re here.”
“All Saints.”
A curt nod confirms my suspicions. In the span of a swallow, his demeanor shifts. Instead of an arrogant set to his shoulders, he looks tired.
I should dismiss him. And yet. It’s like catnip. He does have the library book I want. Maybe he’s finally going to reveal why he wouldn’t let me have it. I wait a second and then glance down. “Okay, fine. But let me go change first.” My choir dress is far too formal for this. I rifle through a drawer, grab some pajamas and head to the tiny closet that serves as my ensuite.
I pause just as I’m pulling the shorts up. They’re not skimpy. Just normal shorts. But something about removing the dress is like taking off my armor. Kendall has seen me practically naked. Had his hands all over my body. I shouldn't feel nervous to face him in pajamas, but something about it seems...vulnerable. I slip my choir dress onto the hanger on the back of the door and make sure I'm buttoned up to my chin before washing my face and exiting.
Kendall sits on my bed, swinging his legs like a little kid, his gaze lacking its usual acidity. He looks sad. Wistful. In moments like these I feel like I'm seeing behind the asshole mask Kendall wears. That this sadness, this unexplained pain is the reason for the mask. It doesn't excuse him from it but I have a hard time deciding to kick a puppy instead of facing the dragon I'd planned on.
I sink down on the bed next to him, and kick my legs too. It’s a throwback to a simpler time, as if we're just two teens hanging out.
“How was your concert?”
The question is so normal, my gaze flies to his face to gauge if he's making fun of me or not. He's not. He looks more like he is savoring the moment. Like it's normal for us to hang out in pajamas after my choir concerts. The me from a year ago would have not believed me if I'd told her.
“It was good.” I stretch back on my hands, rolling my shoulders. A huge yawn overtakes me.
“It's a lot of work,” he observes, motioning to my huge black choir folder where Brahms is spilling out.
“It is. I love it though.”
“But you didn’t sing in high school. Just the semester of choir to fulfill the music requirement, right?”
I give him a weird look. "I didn't really have the time. Jaqueline did a few of the plays and musicals through the years but I never really considered myself a theatre gal.” I emphasize it with jazz hands.
He nods. "Yeah I can see that. But this seems to fit you here.”
My head waffles back and forth before settling in a nod. “Agreed.” Silence wraps around us for a few beats like a cocoon. “Are you going to tell me about my grandfather?”
“Yeah. Right, yes. It's... it's a long story. You’re tired. Maybe we should talk another time.”
I reach out and stop him as he tries to rise. "Not a chance. You sit you ass back down and tell me. I don't care if it takes all night.” I reach behind him and grab my pillows, propping them up against the wall into a makeshift couch. He leans back and then after a moment takes off his shoes, his jacket and his tie before rolling up his sleeves to his forearms and joining me against the pillows.
After a moment, he pops up again, grabs both our cell phones, puts them in the bathroom, then closes the door before settling in with the air of an old badger attending to hibernation activities. I knew it . I knew the phones could listen in.
“In the interest of brevity, how much do you know?”
“Not much. I saw the picture of him in the chapel. I know he studied music and in one of his photos, I thought I saw an All Saints pin. And I just learned tonight my grandma went here too.”
Kendall nods. “All true.”
“My grandfather was in All Saints.”
Kendall nods carefully. “Not only in All Saints, he was set to be their leader, just like his own grandfather.”
That…that floors me. How does he know so much about my grandparents when we’ve spoken maybe four civil words to each other in all of our time attending school together? But he does. How is so much of my current life embroiled in something I never knew existed until a few months ago?
“So how did he end up in Wyoming as a rancher?” The question is more to the universe than anything, but Kendall knows the answer.
“He wanted to marry your grandmother, and so they had to leave England.” His eyes have a weird brightness to them at this question. “It was quite the scandal.”
My grandfather was anything but scandalous. He’d even lost most of his accent by the time I knew him—no one who ever met him would ever equate him with the luxury and finery I see abounding at the All Saints soirees. “He emigrated to get married to my grandmother? That doesn’t make sense.”
Kendall chews on his words a bit, and I can tell he’s dancing around something. “I believe she was engaged to someone else at the time. It was—there was—a huge scandal when he left. In All Saints, giving your word means everything. It’s not…it’s not easy to get out of something once you’ve given your word.”
I whistle low. Grandpa . I’d never known. And now that I see all of the NDA’s and secrecy for myself, I can see how extricating yourself as a full member—as a leader—of a fraternity is tricky work. He must have really loved my grandmother to give up his life, though I never got the sense at all that he missed whatever life he’d had here.
My next question slips out unintended. “Do you think when he told my dad he was protecting us from the worst of humanity he meant All Saints?”
Kendall nods again, gaze steady on my face. “Yes. I do.”
“Hm.” I mull that around, unsurprised. “Well I really wish he would have told us specifically, because here I am.”
“Here you are,” Kendall agrees darkly. He takes a deep breath. “All Saints goes back thousands and thousands of years. We are among the longest living secret fraternities in the world.”
It sounds so History Channel. I manage to cover a laugh with a cough. “Are you equating my scholarship with the Knights of Templar, or the Illuminati?” Kendall is unflinching, and it quiets me immediately. “Well, shit. Okay. That's insane. And my grandfather was the leader?”
“Soon to be the elected head of the order.”
I shrug my shoulders. “Okay, so?”
Kendall makes a noise in his throat. “It’s a big deal. The fraternity is a very wealthy one.”
I nod sagely. "'Don't think the Knights of Templar were poor, either. But they dealt in stolen stuff, right? Religious artifacts? Stuff the church stole from religious warfare? Does All Saints have like the Crown of Thorns or something? Is this secretly a Catholic church cult holdout?”
“You read too many Dan Brown novels,” Kendall says.
“Or not enough of them.”
Kendall huffs out a laugh. “I guess it's not far off. Every fraternity deals in its own precious goods. All Saints is no different. Very wealthy, powerful people are made in All Saints. It is extremely exclusive and it has a high ante for entry. We are selective because once among our ranks, our members have access to the highest ranked officials. The heads of Oxford. Ivy League in America. Tech billionaires. Nobel Prize winners. The wealthiest in the world. Once you are a part of our organization, you are a part of it for life.”
That’s not ominous or anything. I squint my eye. "So what would these supposed powerful and wealthy elite of the world want with me?"
“Your ambition.”
I shift on the pillows to face him better. “My ambition.”
“Yes.”
“That is not a marketable asset.”
“I beg to differ.”
My lips purse as I think about Clara. About what she said to me after the tunnel party. “But not everyone who is a candidate is ambitious like me.”
Kendall seems to sense exactly who I am talking about. “Ambitions can be different for every person, but the specific ambition has to be useful to the collective. To further our cause in one way or the other.”
Ew. That doesn’t sit well. “And my grandfather. I take it he was ambitious, then.” It’s hard to imagine, given his dedication to a quiet life raising cattle and horses. To helping the downtrodden.
“I assume so. I think he was tapped to be the next director of the English National Opera. He had to turn down the position when he left England. I’d only ever heard my own grandfather talk about it a few times. It was a sore subject.”
I squint. There’s something behind those words I don’t understand. Why would my father leaving be a sore subject for Kendall’s own grandfather? I assume he took over for my own grandfather, and thus the wealth and title. Wouldn’t it have benefited him? “So my grandfather was almost the director of the English National Opera.” I can hardly picture it. “And so it was a big deal he left?”
I can tell I’ve asked the right question. “This is a lifelong appointment. The gift given in exchange for entry gains you access to the power, the money, the connections. All Saint’s takes people who want something and they make it happen. Once in, it’s basically impossible to leave. Too many people have favors to call in. You have obligations to other members. Promises you’ve made. Dues to pay forward for the next initiates behind you. You don’t just leave.” Kendall’s gaze turns dark. “Powerful people can do some pretty awful things to a person’s life if they want to.”
“But my grandfather left.” Although now I’m equating this to the mob in my head, and I’m wondering how many years my grandfather watched his back, wondering if someone was going to ruin his life for leaving. Suddenly his paranoia over my school classmates doesn’t seem so crazy.
“He didn’t just leave on his own. He convinced another member to leave with him. Someone who was promised to someone important. It was—is—an honor thing, and it hasn’t been forgotten. It’s not just all about handing you your dream, and I think you need to know it. They expect their due.”
“You say that as if someone can just hand me an ambassadorship. Or a cabinet position. Do you know how long it takes? Oxford isn't even in the United States. You have to have internships, and appointments, and people backing you in government….” I trail off, staring at Kendall. He hasn’t blinked. “You’re saying I can get these things.”
He shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe not. The deal itself is up to you and your sponsor. Some people just ask for a large amount of money. Sometimes sponsors can’t provide the correct connections to complete the contract. If so, a candidate goes back into the pool or renegotiates the contract. But yes, in general, I think you could be assured that. Or more. It’s done more often than you think.”
A contract. Inside help to become one of the highest ranked officials in the United States Government. This sort of stuff is fiction. And yet…secret societies are supposed to have made kings and Presidents. Ministers. Royalty. Arch Bishops. Billionaires. Celebrities. You can’t throw a snowball without hitting a conspiracy theory about any number of prominent historical figures claiming secret ties to secret societies—and accused of being puppets of shadow organizations out for world dominance.
If Kendall speaks the truth, I’m on the cusp of having everything I ever wanted. I could join this fraternity and march straight to the head of the line. My head swims with the possibility. I’ve had to work the long and hard way for everything I’ve ever gotten. I did fundraisers cutting lawns for six summers to be able to put enough aside to attend community college classes. I’d had to do three bake sales to be able to afford my debate team uniform. To have a network of billionaires and influential people to help me along the way? It’s… it’s…Kendall just verified that this opportunity comes with a cost.
What had my grandfather said? The worst sort of humanity.
No question that a fraternity based on the trading high-level favors could be or is rampant with greed, manipulation and artifice. And I can only imagine what someone would ask of me in return for a favor like mine.
“Is this a soul-to-the-Devil situation? I win the fiddle contest, or Satan gets me forever?”
“I wish I could tell you no. I mean, maybe not the literal Devil, All-Saints hasn’t been a religious organization since the 1600’s. But the rest of it?” He leans in, and I can see the stubble on his cheeks. Smell the mint of his gum. “It’s possibly as close to hell as you’ll ever get on Earth. At least for someone like you.”
“Blood letting?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Weird scientific experiments?”
“No.”
“Just…horrible people?”
He’s leaned in so close his eyes have to keep darting between mine. “These are a group of people with particular tastes that they feed through this organization. In exchange for their influence, they own you for the length of that contract.”
“Own…me.”
“Your time. Your company when it is wanted.” His eyes dip to my chest and back up. “Your body.”
“…sex.”
He doesn’t deny it.
All the air leaves my lungs and I sink back against my pillows. I feel like I have to immediately get up and take a shower. I should have expected this. As Elizabeth Bennet would say I’m in want of money and connections and I have nothing to offer in exchange. I’d been na?ve to assume it was about anything other than sex. My stomach lurches. “I think I’m going to throw up . Nothing is worth being raped or a sex slave.”
At least the boob tape and slinky dress make all the sense now. God, I really am sheltered if I didn’t catch on. No wonder they want innocent young people. Worldly teenagers would know to avoid stuff like this.
Kendall scoots back a little in alarm.“It’s only with consent.” Then he steadies himself and nods. “But exactly my point. It’s how All Saints operates. And so many of our inductee members later become sponsors. It twists the way they do business. The way they see the world. I needed to tell you this so that you honor your grandfather’s wishes, and stay away. Their help is not for impressionable people like you.”
Irrational anger floods my veins. I hate the patronizing tone in his voice. I hate that he knows all of this, and I’ve been kept in the dark. “Because you think I can’t handle it.”
Shock registers a moment before his mouth shapes the words. “No, because it would ruin you. You are going to do so much good in this world and I want you to do it free from the chains of All Saints.”
I scoff. “So now you suddenly think so highly of me? How convenient when you are apparently okay with joining this yourself.”
Kendall hesitates and reaches out, the back of his knuckles gliding down my arm. Gooseflesh rises in the wake and I swallow hard. “I believe in you enough to tell you. They could kick me out for telling you this. Or worse.” He pauses. “I need you to understand just how very fucked up it is that you and Clara are here.”
I level him with a look. “Oh, because you are concerned about my eternal soul and virtuous nature?”
His gaze is steady on mine, and he leans ever so slightly closer. His fingers still linger at my wrist. “Something like that. It’s… complicated. You being here makes things complicated for me. Don’t you remember what I told you last week?”
I do remember. He was adamant that his behavior toward me in high school was my fault. My fault for somehow making him think I was meant to be his, but he couldn’t have me. It’s entitled white boy shit, and I refuse to let him draw me in again. I roll my eyes and huff out a frustrated breath. “And now we get to it. You’re selling me some sort of Capulets and Montagues story. Some tale of you father’s retribution, but really it’s about you . It’s because you don’t want me in your way. You are as self-centered as always, Kendall. Jesus, I can’t believe I even let you in here to talk. You only care about yourself.”
I think for a moment he’s going to get up and walk out. But what he does next is both more surprising and infinitely worse. He uses the fingers around my wrist to pull me closer, into his body. I struggle slightly, because I’m angry with him and confused. This doesn’t feel like the reaction I’ve come to expect from either version of Kendall.
His arms come around my body in some sort of…hug? As if we’re boyfriend and girlfriend having a fight, and he wants to make sure I know everything is going to be okay. It’s so absolutely bananas I try the surprise approach myself. I go still and rigid. He leans his head down until mine is tucked unwillingly under his chin and he takes a long deep breath.
“I upset you, and I’m sorry. You still don’t understand—you being here is about me. It’s about you, and your past, but it’s mostly about me. My father knows that I hate this society. I don’t know if he knows that I ultimately want to destroy it…and then he discovered you existed. And he suspects my feelings for you, and saw an opportunity to control me by inviting someone I care about to be a part of this monstrous thing. Not only that, two birds, one stone, you’re the granddaughter of someone he resents—someone who caused our own family great personal harm. My father is trying to wrong a right done to his father—he’s trying to even the score by forcing you into this process. Forcing you to submit. To sign a contract. To be bound to us, just like your grandfather was supposed to be. I can only guess he also means to punish you for your grandfather’s crimes, somehow.”
My heartbeat increases. “How…how did my grandfather create that much animosity?”
He shrugs. “Your grandmother was betrothed through the society to my grandfather. She chose your father, and he convinced her to leave with him. It voided two contracts, left my grandfather very publicly embarrassed, and almost collapsed All Saints. He set a very dangerous precedent that you didn’t have to do what the organization told you to do. That you could take or leave your reward, that you didn’t have an obligation to continue the Oxford Dynasty.”
Well shit. “That explains the retribution portion. But I still don’t get why he thinks me being here would control you. That doesn’t make sense.”
Kendall forces my chin up and I can feel his heart racing under my hand as I push off his chest slightly to keep my neck from snapping.
His hands slide up to cup my chin, holding me like I’m fine china.
“What if I really am the Montagues, and you are the Capulets. What if we are fated to be star-crossed lovers? It all makes sense when you realize what my father does—that you are my kryptonite.”