The Complete Private Collection: Private; Invitation Only; Untouchable; Confessions; Inner Circle; Legacy; Ambition; Revelation; Last Christmas; Paradise ... The Book of Spells; Ominous; Vengeance (322 page)

“What the hell was that?” Tiffany demanded.

“The wind,” Noelle said, going over to an open window and slamming it closed. “I opened the windows because it was getting stuffy with the fire and everyone in here at once.”

Shakily, Ivy turned to look at me. We both knew it wasn’t the wind. It was just like that falling painting in the cafeteria yesterday morning.

“It’s the incantation, isn’t it?” Ivy said to me, as if no one else was there. “It actually worked.”

Just then the two doors were flung open again, and everyone gasped. Noelle’s grandmother, Lenora Lange, walked into the room, her high heels clicking against the marble floor. When she saw Ivy, she startled a bit, almost as if she could feel the fear coming off of her. Quickly, Mrs. Lange cleared her throat.

“Now, girls. We can’t have this dissension,” she said clearly, succinctly. She looked around the room, meeting each and every girl’s eyes in turn. “If we’re going to stop what’s happening to your sisters, we’re going to have to work together.”

“The first thing you should know is that the curse is real,” Mrs. Lange said.

My blood froze in my veins. No one moved—not Missy, not Ivy, not even Noelle. I felt as if there should have been an ominous rumble of thunder outside the window, but when I looked outside, all I saw were lazily swirling snowflakes and a dark blue New York City sky.

“At least, it’s real to some people. Real enough for those people to be causing problems,” Mrs. Lange continued. She walked over to the buffet table and poured herself a glass of sparkling water. She took a long sip before turning around again, cradling the crystal tumbler in both hands. The last time I’d seen Mrs. Lange she’d been all business in a suit. Today her short white hair was pushed back with a tortoiseshell headband, which made her sharp features seem softer. She wore a striped button-down shirt, a navy blue cashmere cardigan, and gray wool pants. But even in casual
weekend wear, she commanded everyone’s attention and respect.

“The Billings alumnae have long fallen into two categories,” she said. “Those who believe in the curse, and those who do not. For the past fifty years or so, there hasn’t been much evidence that the descendents of Eliza Williams, Theresa Billings, and Helen Jennings were actually cursed.” She paused and gave a laugh. “Most of us have done quite well for ourselves. But those who believe happen to think that Reed has brought the curse to fruition by her presence at Easton.”

My throat felt prickly and tight as I turned to face her. “What?” I said. “Why me?”

Mrs. Lange walked toward me, her eyes shining. She placed one hand on my wrist. Her fingers were cold and moist from the glass, but her grip was strong.

“Because, my dear, you are not just descended from Theresa Billings, but from Eliza Williams as well.”

The room around me grew stiflingly hot, and everything blurred. Suddenly I saw Eliza’s face in my dream. The curious way in which she’d looked me over. Her sad eyes so much like mine.

“The thing is,” Josh had said in my ear as we stared at the annual, “she looks like you. A
lot
like you.”

She’d had a foretelling dream, and now I’d had foretelling dreams. Her crazy, possibly psychic, possibly witchy blood was in my veins.

I took the water glass right out of Mrs. Lange’s hands and chugged it, then choked on the bubbles.

“Reed,” Noelle said, grabbing my arm. “Are you all right?”

I nodded as I coughed. The water fizzed up my nose and tears
stung my eyes. Noelle led me over to the cushioned bench at the end of her bed. For a long moment I sat with my head between my knees. I could feel my friends staring at me and wished they would all go away. Wished that I would wake up from this nightmare like I’d woken up from all the others.

Except I hadn’t really woken up from any of them, since they were all coming true.

“How?” Noelle said finally. “I don’t understand how this is possible.”

“Reed’s mother’s grandmother was Eliza’s daughter, Catherine, named after Eliza’s old friend,” Mrs. Lange said. “Catherine disowned her daughter, Lea, when she decided to run off with a steel worker—someone Catherine saw as beneath the family name. After that Eliza’s line fell out of wealth . . . but not out of spirit or strength,” she said with admiration in her voice. “That’s evident in you, dear. This is why the alumnae have taken such interest in you from the beginning: As both a Billings and a Williams, you could have a unique amount of power.”

I looked down at the locket, warm as always against my chest. It had once belonged to Eliza. It had once belonged to my great-great-grandmother.

“This is ridiculous,” Missy said with a sneer. “She doesn’t have any power.”

Suddenly I heard Sabine’s words from my dream the night before.
She has no power here. She never had any power
.

I stared up at Missy, my chest clenching. Was she was connected to all this somehow?

Mrs. Lange turned to look at Ivy, who seemed startled by the attention. “You said the incantation, didn’t you?”

Ivy looked timid for the briefest moment but then shook her hair back and lifted her chin. “Yes. We did. Just the two of us. How did you know?”

“I can see it in your eyes,” Mrs. Lange said with a smile. “It worked. You two girls have summoned the power.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head, wishing this all away. “You need to have eleven girls for the incantation to work . . . right?”

Mrs. Lange sat down next to me and placed her hand on mine. “Don’t you see, Reed? The fact that it worked just proves the theory. With both Theresa’s and Eliza’s blood in your veins, you can summon the power almost on your own.”

A fizzing sensation began at the back of my skull and spread down over my shoulders all the way to my toes. Just like that, I knew. She was right. This was why I’d started having the dreams—dreams just like Eliza had. Because I had said the incantation that night in the chapel and summoned this . . . whatever it was. And Ivy . . . she’d moved objects without touching them.

Was this really all because of me? Because of who my great-great-grandmothers were?

“Ugh! I can’t take this anymore,” Missy spat. “I am
so sick
of hearing about the great Reed Brennan!” Her face was red and her eyes narrowed into angry slits as she glared at me. “You don’t have unique power, Reed. Not magical or any other kind. Billings is going to be rebuilt without you, and you’ll never set foot inside it again. And if you
ever even set foot on the front walk, I’ll be the first person to slam the door in your face.”

She shot Mrs. Lange a withering glare and turned around. “If this insanity turns out to somehow be true, it doesn’t mean you have double the power. All it means is you’re doubly
cursed
!” she shouted back over her shoulder.

When she was gone, the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire. Mrs. Lange took a deep breath and shook her head slightly, as if shaking off a small but irritating fly. Then she stood up and looked at the rest of the girls, all of whom were frozen, as in a tableau, around the fire.

“If any of the rest of you would like to leave, this is your chance,” she said.

I stared at my friends—Noelle, Ivy, Constance, Kiki, Rose, Tiffany, Portia, Amberly, London, and Vienna—and wondered what they were thinking. Some of them looked scared, others annoyed, others sympathetic. But it was Constance’s eyes that got me. She looked like she wanted to give me a hug.

I cleared my throat and stood, handing the empty glass to Noelle.

“Guys, I don’t know if I’m psychic. I don’t know if I’m cursed. And I definitely don’t feel like I have some unique amount of power,” I said, wiping my hands on my jeans. “All I care about . . . the whole reason why I asked you here . . . is keeping all of us safe. So please just . . . stay inside. Stay with your families. And if any of us calls anyone else, answer the phone.”

“Even Missy?” Amberly said, her voice thick.

There was a halfhearted laugh. “Yeah. Even Missy,” I said. “The best thing we can do right now is look out for each other.”

“And if anyone’s parents aren’t around and you want to stay here, you can,” Noelle added.

Slowly, everyone started to get up. They looked scared, but I could tell that they were glad they’d come. At least we knew we had one another’s backs now. At least everyone had all the information. I hugged each of them as they made for the door, and Constance held on to me longer than anyone.

“Hey, Reed,” Kiki said, pausing at the back of the group as the girls crowded through the doors.

“Yeah?” I said, suddenly exhausted.

“Call us if you have any more dreams,” she said.

This time, no one laughed.

“You’re nothing, Reed! Nothing! You should never have been accepted at this school! You don’t deserve to be here!”

My pulse thrummed in my ears as I backed across the Billings roof, Missy advancing on me with predatory ferocity in her eyes. Her black robe billowed in the wind, the hood jumping up and down on her back. As I tripped closer to the edge, my mind raced, trying to figure out a way out of this, praying that someone would glance up and see. I frantically looked toward Ketlar, willing Josh to run out the front door. Willing him to save me.

But something was wrong. Ketlar was not where it was supposed to be. I was looking at Billings from high above. I whirled around and realized that this was not the roof of my dorm at all. We were standing atop the Easton chapel.

How the hell had we gotten here?

“Everything was fine before you came here, Reed!” Missy continued
ranting, her face practically purple with rage. “Thomas is dead because of you! Cheyenne is dead because of you! It’s all your fault!”

“No,” I said tearfully, even as the horrible guilt squeezed my heart. My head shook hysterically. “No. It wasn’t me. I didn’t do those things.”

“You can’t be that naive,” Missy scoffed. “Those things were done because. Of. You!”

With each word, Missy shoved me toward the edge of the roof. Through blurry, stinging eyes, I searched behind her for the door—the door through which Noelle had tiptoed that night long ago, coming to rescue me from Ariana. The door was there, even though we weren’t at Billings.

“You need to die,” Missy said as the backs of my thighs hit the stone turrets along the side of the roof. “It’s the only way. If you die, the curse will be broken.”

My mind screamed at me to say something. To come up with the words that would convince her. But she was insane. She was out of her mind. Just like Ariana had been. Just like Sabine.

Then, behind her, the door opened and closed. My veins flooded with relief. But it wasn’t Noelle coming toward us with a field hockey stick. It was Ariana. And her sadistic, murderous gaze was focused on the back of Missy’s head.

“Missy!” I shouted. “Look out!”

She laughed. “Like I’m gonna fall for tha—”

Suddenly Ariana brought the hockey stick down across Missy’s throat. Missy’s eyes widened in surprise and terror.

“Ariana! No!” I screamed, buckling at the waist as tears poured from my eyes.

Missy’s hands flew up to grip the stick, but her actions were futile. Ariana jerked the stick back and up with both hands. Missy started to scream, but her neck snapped and the sound died.

“No,” I whimpered, as Missy went limp. “No, no, no, no, no . . . ”

Ariana smiled placidly at me as she dragged Missy’s body toward the stone wall and carelessly tossed her over the edge. A moment later I heard the thump of her body hitting the steps.

“Why,” I sobbed, falling to my knees. “Why are you doing this, Ariana? Why?”

She turned and glared down at me, her eyes hungry like a rabid animal’s. “You’re next,” she growled.

She pounced on me, her fingers curling around my shoulders as she let out a screech.

“No!”

I sat up in bed, gasping for breath, sweat pouring off my body. Noelle looked up from her pillow. “What is it? Reed? What’s wrong?”

“Missy,” I said with a gasp. “It was Missy.”

At the same time, both our cell phones rang. I lunged for mine, saw Josh’s smiling face on the screen, and picked up the call.

“Josh!”

“Reed! Are you all right?” he asked.

“What?” I blinked. “Yes, I’m fine. I just had another dream.”

There was a pause. I could hear his ragged breathing clear as day. “I know.”

A sinking feeling went through me as I realized what that meant. Then the bed shifted as Noelle got up. Eliza’s torn pages fluttered to the floor and I realized with a start that Noelle must have been reading them in bed, after I’d fallen asleep. Slowly I turned to look at her, still holding my cell to my ear. She stood at the side of the bed, one hand holding back her thick hair, the other clutching her phone. Over in the fireplace, the last of the embers glowed red, throbbing like a heartbeat.

“Reed?” Josh said, sounding panicked. “Reed, are you there?”

“Okay. Yes, of course. We will,” Noelle said grimly. “Thanks for calling me, Paige.”

She lowered the phone. I’d never seen her look so scared. “It’s Missy,” she said to me. “She’s gone.”

“I get it now,” Noelle said, pressing her fist into her hand as she paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. “I see the connection.”

Downstairs the house was full of commotion as Mr. Lange and his security team made phone calls, ordering up bigger and badder systems, probably tapping the phones or installing hidden security cameras or ordering up some vicious guard dogs. I sat on the bench at the end of the bed, my phone in my hands, waiting for it to ring again as it had been doing nonstop since the news had gotten out. Josh was on his way over, and I felt like I was sitting on a bed of pins and needles, waiting for him to walk through the door. Outside the huge windows the sun was just starting to make itself known, lighting the sky with pinkish-purple hues. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day.

“What connection?” I asked Noelle, intimidated by her frenetic restlessness. “What are you talking about?”

“I know why they’ve taken Astrid, Lorna, and Missy,” Noelle said, her eyes wide, as if she’d been mainlining espresso all night. She grabbed Eliza’s pages from the floor, wrinkling the edges in her grasp. She flipped through them, reorganizing them, searching them frantically for something.