The Complete Private Collection: Private; Invitation Only; Untouchable; Confessions; Inner Circle; Legacy; Ambition; Revelation; Last Christmas; Paradise ... The Book of Spells; Ominous; Vengeance (264 page)

“I don’t know,” I replied, trying not to wonder whether Noelle would even be alive next Saturday night. “I didn’t even realize it was February.”

Ivy laughed. “You need coffee. Go ahead. He’s waiting for you.” She nudged me with her elbow, carefully balancing her tray of French toast and fruit. “I’ll sit with the girls and tell them what happened with Noelle.”

“Thanks,” I replied. “Try not to bash her in the process.”

She smirked. “I’ll try.”

Normally, I might have made sure that Ivy was truly okay with me going over and sitting alone with her ex-boyfriend, who was now my current boyfriend. But today, I didn’t have it in me to be overly solicitous. I walked over to Josh’s table, dropped my tray of Cheerios down across from his tray of doughnuts, and sat.

“Anything?” he asked hopefully, raising his eyebrows.

I shook my head once. “Nope.”

His fingers found mine under the table. His green eyes were rimmed with red as he stared into mine. “It’s going to be okay,” he said. “We’re going to figure this out.”

My throat squeezed closed and fresh tears stung my eyes. All around me there was laughter and conversation and the clatter of silverware against ceramic plates. Some guy at the next table laughed so hard, apple juice came spurting out his nose. But I barely saw or heard any of it.

“How?” I asked.

“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” Josh said, releasing my hand and sitting back in his chair. “We need to start by making a list of her enemies. And yours.”

“My enemies?” I asked, the words crackling over my tongue. “Why mine?”

“Because,” Josh said, like it was so obvious, “they may have taken her, but they’re torturing you. Whoever did this either hates Noelle, or you, or both of you.”

I swallowed hard and sat back in my chair, slumping until the base of my skull rested on the top of the chair back. “Could be a long list.”

Josh smirked and reached for his coffee, glancing around surreptitiously. “You should sit up.”

“Why?” I snapped unnecessarily. Josh, however, either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“Because whoever did this might be watching you right now,” he said, hiding his lips behind his coffee cup. “We don’t want them to know that I know what’s going on. And you also don’t want to look all desperate.”

An incredible, sweet warmth filled my chest, like someone was baking fresh cinnamon rolls in there. Thank heaven for Josh. At least he was thinking clearly. I pushed my exhausted body up until I was seated on the edge of my chair.

“I don’t know what I would do if you hadn’t been there when I got that text,” I said under my breath. I pushed my spoon into my cereal, making a show of being normal. “I don’t think I could do this alone.”

“You’re never alone,” Josh replied firmly. “Not anymore.”

“Thanks,” I said, my voice thick.

“So?” Josh prompted, taking a sip of his coffee and placing the cup down. He folded his arms on the table and glanced around. “Who are your prime suspects?”

He had a smile on his face for show, and looked for all the world as if he really could be discussing the dance.

“Well, there’s the reject table,” I said, tilting my head slightly toward the center of the room. Missy Thurber, Constance Talbot, and London Simmons—the three former Billings residents who hadn’t made the cut into the Billings Literary Society—all sat at their usual table, and they were all casting deadly glares at me as always. Josh whistled quietly.

“Wow. That last evil stare glanced off you and hit me,” he joked, shifting in his seat. “But what do you mean, the reject table? Since when are those guys rejects? I mean, I know Missy isn’t your favorite person, but I thought you and Constance were all buddy-buddy, at least.”

My heart skipped ten thousand beats. Josh didn’t know about the Billings Literary Society. It was, after all, a secret. But almost all my prime suspects, as he called them, were somehow related to the BLS. If he was going to help me find Noelle, he had to know. Not everything, but at least the basics.

I took a deep breath and sat forward. “I kind of started a secret society,” I whispered.

“What?!” Josh blurted.

Half the dining hall went silent and turned to stare. Josh’s face turned bright red and he leaned forward, so close our foreheads almost touched.

“What?” he hissed quietly.

“It’s a long story,” I said. “But basically, there are only eleven members, so some of my friends”—I pronounced the last word through my teeth as I cast my glance toward the reject table—“didn’t get in.”

“Whoa.”

Josh picked up a doughnut, and took a big bite. “That’s a motive.”

“Kind of, yeah,” I said, chewing on my bottom lip.

“You
are
going to tell me more about this later,” he said, powdered sugar clinging to his lips.

“We’ll see,” I said hesitantly.

“Okay. Who else?” he asked.

“Well, some of the Billings Alumnae threatened us recently,” I said, poking at a few Cheerios with my spoon. “They blame us for Billings House being torn down.”

“Which ones?” Josh asked.

“Paige Ryan, Susan Llewellyn, and Demetria Rosewell,” I replied.

Another whistle from Josh. “Can’t get more connected than that. The Rosewells own half the defense contracts in the country. She could probably order up her own team of Navy SEALs if she wanted. Could you imagine if a team of SEALs grabbed Noelle? She could be in Kuwait by now.”

I dropped my spoon. It clanged loudly against the edge of my
bowl. “Really not making me feel better here, Josh,” I said.

“Sorry. Sorry.” He placed what was left of his doughnut down on his plate and raised his hands in surrender. “Anyone else?”

Just then there was a loud, familiar guffaw from the direction of the food line. I turned to look and saw Gage Coolidge yucking it up with Sawyer and Graham Hathaway—two guys who had been my friends until Graham had pummeled Josh for a past offense against his sister, Jen, who passed away last summer. And until I had broken Sawyer’s heart by getting back together with Josh. All three of them froze in their tracks and stopped laughing when they saw me and Josh. Then Gage slapped Graham’s chest with the back of his hand and led him off in the opposite direction. Sawyer stood there for a moment, looking at me in this sort of forlorn way, before ducking his blond head and trudging after them.

“I guess
he
kind of hates me right now,” I said, facing forward again.

“Sawyer?” Josh asked. “You think he’s the evil mastermind behind this?”

I gave him a small, sad, smile. “Not really. But I’ve been fooled before.”

Josh and I looked at each other for a long moment, thinking of all the people we’d lost . . . and of all the people we’d trusted who’d turned out to be completely bat-crap crazy.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I guess Gage has chosen the Hathaway brothers over me,” Josh said.

“Wow. A major loss,” I joked flatly.

“It’s definitely a blow,” Josh replied, a teasing glint in his eye.

We both smiled wanly at our halfhearted attempt at lightness. Then I took a sip of my juice and looked away, feeling guilty for even trying when Noelle was out there somewhere suffering.

“I’d say this Billings Alumnae thing is your best bet,” Josh said, wiping his fingers on a napkin. “Those women have money, power, connections, and a crap load of time on their hands. Plus, if they still care about a dorm enough to threaten you, then clearly they’ve got some serious issues.”

“You’re right,” I said. “One of them just might be crazy enough to do something like this.” A slight thrill of excitement edged out some of the dread from my heart. Now we were getting somewhere. If I could go on the offensive, take some control over the situation, maybe I could end this thing before it even really got started. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Just be careful, Reed,” Josh said. “These people clearly aren’t messing around. I don’t think I could take it if you disappeared on me.”

“Understood,” I said, reaching for his hand and lacing my fingers through his. “But don’t worry. I promise I’ve put my damsel in distress days behind me.”

This was probably a very bad idea. An extremely very bad idea. But as I trudged through the woods alone that night, my hood drawn over my head, my face bent toward the ground against the swirling snow, I was certain it was also the right thing to do. Paige Ryan knew something. Why else would she have agreed to meet me so easily? Why else would she have even picked up the phone when I’d called? The girl hated my guts for “stealing” Upton Giles away from her and her friends down on St. Barths over Christmas break. She hated me for the fact that her mother had been locked up for trying—repeatedly—to murder me.

Yeah. The girl had a skewed sense of right and wrong.

But the point is, there was no reason for her to take a call from me. Which could only mean one thing: Paige knew where Noelle was. And tonight, I was going to get her to tell me. I’d already had to lie to Headmaster Hathaway today when he’d cornered me after classes, asking why Noelle had missed the entire day. Call me crazy, but I had
a feeling he didn’t actually believe me when I’d told him she’d taken a mental health day and gone to Bliss Spa in the city. I had to find Noelle fast, because if he kept asking, I wasn’t going to be able to keep up the “tell no one” rule for very long. And if I cracked, the kidnappers were clear on what would happen. The words “SHE DIES” were pretty much permanently emblazoned across my mind’s eye.

As I stepped into the freezing cold Billings Chapel, I felt a surge of strength. This was my home turf, and they’d come in here and sullied it. Snatched away my best friend right out from under my nose. Just by telling Paige to meet me here I was reclaiming the upper ground. Showing them I would not be intimidated. That I wasn’t afraid.

A loud creak sounded in the darkness to my right and I screeched, nearly jumping out of my skin.

Okay, so maybe I was a little bit afraid.

The wind howled overhead and I took a breath.

“There’s a storm, you idiot,” I whispered to myself. “Things in this old building are going to creak and moan. Just calm down.”

I pulled out a book of matches from my coat pocket and walked to the first wall sconce near the back right pew. My ankles shook, but I stayed the course and lit the candle, then quickly walked along the wall, headed toward the pulpit at the front, lighting half a dozen more along the way.

I looked across the small chapel. The freshly waxed dark wood pews shone and the plank floors were free of grime. The soft glow of the candlelight lent a distinct warmth to the cozy room. I stood there for a moment, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath, waiting for a sense
of calm to descend over me. Waiting to feel that comforting, looked-after feeling I always had here. As if the original Billings Girls were looking down on me, encouraging me. As if they were on my side.

But I felt nothing—nothing but a chill that shot through me by a stiff wind from a broken window.

I opened my eyes and sat down hard on the raised platform around the pulpit. Alone. I was totally and completely alone. And so was Noelle. She was out there somewhere, terrified, waiting for someone to come save her. I knew exactly what that felt like. That incredible sense of desperation. When I had been left to die on a deserted island in St. Barths I had started to hallucinate. Started to think I would be better off dead. Started to think no one out in the real world even cared I was gone. That depth of despair was not something I would wish upon my worst enemy, let alone my best friend.

I hugged my knees to my chest and rested my chin between them.

I’m going to find you, Noelle. Just stay strong.

Then the wind whistled through the eaves again. Up in the rafters, a pair of crows I hadn’t noticed before flapped their wings noisily, as if mocking me.

“Oh, why don’t you just fly south for the winter already?” I shouted up at them.

They were wrong. Paige was going to tell me what she knew. I was going to make sure of that. This would all be over by morning.

The arched chapel door creaked open and Paige stepped inside, cursing under her breath. She shoved the door closed with some effort, blocking out the wind. I jumped to my feet, adrenaline pumping as she
dusted snow off the sleeves of her black cashmere coat. Finally, she drew the gray knit cap from her auburn hair as she turned around.

“God! Could this place be more impossible to get to?” she snapped. Her stiletto-heeled boots—not exactly the best gear for hiking snow-covered hills at night—click-clacked against the floor, the sound echoing through the chapel as she walked to the center of the aisle. “I could have died out there.”

There were just way too many good comebacks to that one. About Noelle potentially dying out there right now. About the number of times
I’d
almost died at her mother’s hand. About how I’d like to wring her throat for all the crap she’d pulled on the island, not to mention her current crime. But I just swallowed all the words cramming my throat. I said nothing, hoping my silence and serious glare would intimidate her.

“So?” she said, turning her gloved palms out. “Let’s have it.”

I blinked. “Have what?”

“Your capitulation,” Paige said. “That is why you called me, right?”

“My capitulation? What the hell are you talking about?” I demanded, stepping toward her. “I called you about Noelle.”

“Noelle? Why? Is she here?” Paige looked around and then laughed. “Oh, this’ll be good. I’d
love
to get an apology from Her Majesty. Noelle!” she sang. “Come out, come out wherever you are!”

I was so confused I actually stood there for a moment with my jaw hanging open. So much for the position of authority. I looked like the town idiot, the dumbfounded subject of the punch line.

“If this is your idea of a joke—”

“Reed, you’re the one who called me, remember?” Paige replied, whipping her cell phone out of her Prada bag and checking for messages. “Now,
clearly
you’ve decided to give up your little Billings project, whatever that was, but
clearly
I wouldn’t be here unless you wanted something in return. So what is it? What are your petty little demands?”