The Complete Private Collection: Private; Invitation Only; Untouchable; Confessions; Inner Circle; Legacy; Ambition; Revelation; Last Christmas; Paradise ... The Book of Spells; Ominous; Vengeance (305 page)

“It’s going to be all right,” she whispered to herself. “Helen is clearly a powerful witch. With her on our side, we can’t fail.”

A sudden scratching noise sounded at her window. Eliza’s heart vaulted into her throat and she sat straight up in bed. A long, silent moment passed. Then the scratch sounded again. Eliza whirled around. A pale face hovered outside her window, staring in at her.

Eliza screamed.
Catherine?
Had her roommate come back of her own volition to punish Eliza for letting her fall to her death? But then her eyes focused on the panicked visage.

“Harrison?” she whispered.

He gestured frantically for her to let him in. Eliza jumped out of bed, realizing with a start that she was on the fourth floor, and whipped open the window. Harrison was perched precariously on the one-foot-wide stone lip that ran around the periphery of the building. He clutched both sides of the window and jumped to the floor, crouching for a moment to catch his breath.

“Harrison Knox,
what
are you doing!?” Eliza demanded, closing the windows with a
bang
. “You could have killed yourself.”

Harrison stood, blew out a breath, and smiled. “It would have been worth it to see you.” He looked her up and down, and the smile transformed into a grin. “And in your nightgown, no less.”

Eliza blushed furiously. She reached for the fringed shawl on the back of her desk chair and drew it tightly around her shoulders.

“I’m sorry if I frightened you,” Harrison said, stepping toward her. He cupped her cheek with his hand, and she automatically tilted her face into his palm. “But even though you refused my invitation, I simply couldn’t stay away any longer.”

All Eliza wanted to do was fall into Harrison’s arms. To let him hold her and comfort her and chase away all the awful things she’d seen and done. But he didn’t belong to her. He was Theresa’s. Right or wrong, whether they were in love or not, he had proposed and she had accepted. They were going to be husband and wife.

“Eliza,” Harrison said, stepping still closer. That one word was like a plea.

And then he tipped her chin up with his finger and brought his lips down to brush hers. Eliza’s skin was on fire, and her mind seemed to
experience complete weightlessness. Every one of her reservations was obliterated by that one touch. She moved into him, and Harrison wrapped his arms around her, deepening the kiss. Eliza had never felt so completely loved in her life. So secure, so excited, so absolutely sure. Harrison was the man she was meant to be with. No other person would ever make her feel this way.

And yet—

She pulled away.

“What is it?” Harrison asked, his eyelids heavy. “Eliza, what’s wrong?”

“You shouldn’t have come,” Eliza said, summoning all her strength just to utter that one sentence. She touched her still-tingling lips with her fingertips.

Harrison hesitated. He looked behind him as if someone might be watching. “But I thought—”

“Theresa and I . . . we’re friends now, Harrison.” Eliza’s heart twisted excruciatingly, and she found she couldn’t look him in the eye. “And I can’t do this to her. I won’t be the other woman.”

“But Eliza, you know how I feel about you,” Harrison begged, his blue eyes entreating. “How I feel about her. Can’t we just—”

“No.” Eliza forced herself to look at him, and her heart broke, shattering into a million tiny pieces all over her insides. “Go, Harrison. Please.”

Harrison opened his mouth to protest but seemed to think the better of it. He stepped past her toward the window, but Eliza grasped his sleeve between her thumb and forefinger. “Out the door, please.
I don’t think I could manage having your death on my conscience as well.”

Harrison nodded, though he had no idea how much meaning her words held. He paused with his hand on her doorknob and looked back at her. “If I’m caught, I won’t tell them who I’d come to see,” he said, his expression pained.

“Tell them whatever you wish,” Eliza replied, turning away from him. She felt exhausted, suddenly, as if she’d run out of fight. As she heard the door click quietly closed, she would have welcomed expulsion. Anything to get away from here. To put this place and all the people she’d hurt behind her.

She watched from above as Harrison jogged off into the night, headed for the fateful woods and the Easton campus beyond. One lonely tear slid down her cheek, but she told herself she had done the right thing.

Eliza Williams was no one’s mistress.

“Jane and Viola were up all night pressing the figs we got in town for oil,” Theresa whispered under her breath as she and Eliza walked to class the next morning. “Are you certain that Helen knows where to find eye of newt? Because we can’t afford to waste any more time. That spell has to be done at midnight tonight, or Catherine is lost forever.”

They both smiled stiffly at Miss Tinsley as she walked quickly past them.

“Good morning, girls!” the teacher called brightly. “I hope you’re ready for a lively translation session this morning.”

“Yes, Miss Tinsley,” the two girls replied in unison.

The teacher lifted a hand in a wave and disappeared through the front door of McKinley.

“All I know is Helen told me she could get it, and I trust her,” Eliza replied.

Theresa paused at the foot of the steps to McKinley Hall and waited for a pair of younger girls to scurry by before speaking.

“And why is that, exactly?” Theresa asked, smoothing an errant lock of hair back behind her ear. “I swear, Eliza, I wanted to stage a protest last night when you walked into the temple with that girl. The only reason I didn’t was because we don’t have the time to spend searching for someone better.”

Eliza rolled her eyes and walked a few steps away from the main path, leading Theresa out of earshot of the other students and teachers.

“You just don’t like her because she’s a servant,” Eliza said through her teeth. “But she’s been doing this for a long time. She’s probably more powerful than any of us.”

“Probably,” Theresa said, pursing her lips. “And
that’s
what I don’t like about her.”

Eliza blinked. Was Theresa worried about having her own power usurped, or was she concerned that Helen might somehow turn her power against the coven?

“Ladies.”

Eliza jumped and whirled around. Miss Almay stood before her, a pinched, suspicious look on her face. Theresa grabbed Eliza’s hand in surprise as Eliza’s gaze darted around. Where on Earth had the headmistress come from?

“Might I ask why the two of you are dawdling here?” Miss Almay asked, looking down her nose at them. “I trust you’re not planning anything for which you might find yourselves in my office.”

“Of course not, Miss Almay,” Eliza stammered.

“We were just discussing our literature exam,” Theresa improvised.

“Very well, then. Get to class,” Miss Almay ordered, stepping back so that they could step onto the path in front of her. The two girls did so, still clutching each other. They hadn’t taken two steps when Miss Almay spoke again, her tone so low and ominous, it sent a quiver of fear down Eliza’s spine. “And remember, girls, I’ve got my eyes on you.”

Eliza was breathless but oddly calm as she and the other ten members of their coven approached the chapel that evening. Within the hour, the spell would be cast, and Catherine would be alive.

Provided all went according to plan.

“You remember your promise to me, don’t you, Eliza?” Helen asked. She had a dark hood pulled over her hair, and her candle’s flame was reflected in her eyes, making her blue irises glow red.

“I do,” Eliza whispered. “This will be our last spell. After tonight, we bury the books and move on with our lives.”

“With Catherine,” Theresa added firmly.

“With Catherine,” Eliza repeated.

Theresa paused and lifted the lantern. The imposing, white-walled façade of Billings Chapel rose out of the night before them. Behind the three leaders, all the other girls came to a halt.

“We’re here,” Theresa said.

“As are we.”

Eliza gasped and whirled around. Miss Almay and Mrs. Hodge rushed toward them. Miss Almay shoved through the crowd of stunned girls and came to a stop right in front of Theresa and Eliza. Her skin was ruddy with exertion, and her dark hair had come loose from its bun, but her expression was triumphant.

Eliza glanced anxiously over her shoulder at the chapel. Catherine lay right inside, her chances at survival dwindling with each passing moment. They were so close. So very close.

“Miss Almay,” Helen began. “Please, don’t—”

“I’ll deal with you later, Miss Jennings,” Miss Almay snapped, not bothering to cast a glance at her maid. Instead she glared down her long nose at Eliza and Theresa. Eliza’s pulse pounded in her ears. She could practically hear Catherine begging her to do something—begging her to save her life. “I don’t know how you managed to sneak out of the house so quietly, but Mrs. Hodge caught a glimpse of your candles out the window.”

Eliza looked at Theresa, desperate for some sort of a sign that she had a plan. Theresa, however, was looking right at Helen.

“Miss Almay, let me explain,” Theresa began. “Well, you know how devout Alice is. She simply must pray inside the chapel every single day. It makes her feel closer to God. Isn’t that right, Alice?” She didn’t wait for the girl’s answer. “But this morning, Alice
missed
morning services because of her, well, monthly . . . trouble.”

Helen took Eliza’s hand. “Concentrate on Miss Almay and chant
with me,” she said so quietly Eliza wasn’t even sure she’d spoken the words aloud.

“Befuddled, bewildered, be gone,” Helen whispered, staring straight at Mrs. Hodge. “Befuddled, bewildered, be gone. Befuddled, bewildered, be gone.”

Panicked and baffled, Eliza followed Helen’s lead. She stared at Miss Almay’s face as she repeated the chant.

“Befuddled, bewildered, be gone. Befuddled, bewildered, be gone.”

Eliza focused on the chant, on Miss Almay, on her strength, as hard as she possibly could, but nothing was happening. Her palm began to sweat inside Helen’s grip, and her breath grew shallow and still nothing. Theresa, meanwhile, was running out of fiction to tell.

“So we promised Alice that we would bring her up here tonight before midnight so she could pray . . .”

“Befuddled, bewildered, be gone. Befuddled, bewildered, be gone.”

Clarissa, who was standing behind Eliza and Helen, suddenly took Eliza’s other hand. She started to chant along with them, staring intently at Miss Almay.

“Befuddled, bewildered, be gone. Befuddled, bewildered, be gone.”

Soon Jane joined in with them. Then Lavender, Viola, and Bia. Finally Marilyn and Genevieve caught on, dragging Alice with them.

“Befuddled, bewildered, be gone,” they whispered together. “Befuddled, bewildered, be gone. Befuddled, bewildered, be gone.”

A cold wind kicked up around their feet, swirling up from the ground.

“What? What’s this?” Miss Almay demanded, shielding her eyes. “What are you girls doing?”

“It’s not working!” Eliza cried.

“Just keep going!” Helen ordered.

“Befuddled, bewildered, be gone. Befuddled, bewildered, be gone. Befuddled, bewildered, be gone.”

And just when Eliza was certain that whatever was supposed to happen would never happen without the power of the full coven, without Theresa reciting with them, the wind suddenly stopped. Eliza pushed her hair away from her eyes and blinked through the cloud of dusty dirt that billowed around them. When the haze cleared, she saw Theresa laughing.

“What can you possibly find amusing at this moment?” Eliza demanded.

“Look at them!” Theresa said, pointing to the lawn.

There, in the middle of the moonlit lawn, was a dazed-looking Miss Almay. She staggered from side to side with her arms splayed out in front of her, blinking rapidly and looking around overhead, her chin jerking this way and that as if she was following a rowdy flock of birds with her eyes. Mrs. Hodge was walking into a thick tree trunk over and over and over again.

“Poor Mrs. Hodge,” Theresa said. “She’ll have a bump the size of Plymouth Rock tomorrow.”

Eliza walked over to Mrs. Hodge and, taking her by the shoulders,
turned her toward the school. Mrs. Hodge instantly began walking straight ahead, her eyes glazed over like a dead animal’s. As Eliza watched her go, Theresa gave Miss Almay a slight shove, sending her after her maid. The headmistress spun in circles as she walked.

“Good work, Helen,” Theresa said, turning back toward the group.

“I have no wish for congratulations, Miss Billings,” Helen said quietly. “I’d just like to get this done.”

Theresa’s expression hardened. She picked up her lantern from the ground and strode toward the chapel.

“Your wish,
Miss Jennings
, is my command.”

Eliza stood in the chapel basement, her palms slick with perspiration, her arms crossed in front of her. One of her hands grasped Helen’s, the other Theresa’s, as all eleven girls stared down at the lifeless form of Catherine White. Catherine’s face had been covered by a swath of white gauze, her hands folded over her chest like a praying angel. As each girl slowly left the circle, one by one, to add her ingredient to the stone bowl at Catherine’s feet, Eliza’s knees quaked beneath her.

This had to work. It simply had to.

We need you to return to us, Catherine,
Eliza thought, closing her eyes as a wave of nerves crashed through her chest.
We need you here with us. I know you want to be here, too. Please, please, please come back to us.

All around the room the candles flickered and dimmed, then flickered again and glowed stronger. There was a hush among the coven, and the air was thick with desperation, hope, and fear. Jane’s
shoes scratched the silty floor as she shuffled forward and tipped her bottle of arrowroot toward the bowl. Then, head bowed, she returned to the circle and took Viola’s hand. Helen released Eliza, bent to pick up her vial of eye of newt, and slowly, methodically added it to the bowl. The ritual was like a rhythmic dance, each girl doing her part with grace and precision. And then it was Eliza’s turn.