The Complete Private Collection: Private; Invitation Only; Untouchable; Confessions; Inner Circle; Legacy; Ambition; Revelation; Last Christmas; Paradise ... The Book of Spells; Ominous; Vengeance (93 page)

“Good point,” Tiffany said. She held the camera behind her back.

“Ooookay,” Cheyenne said. “Sabine? Not really sure how you’re going to top that.”

Lifting her chin, Sabine unfurled the scroll and held it up. It was one of the black banners that usually hung between the stained glass
windows in the chapel. Embroidered onto it was the year 1984 and the names Susan Llewelyn and Gaylord Whittaker. I couldn’t imagine how anyone could get one of those down without a ladder and some help. Impressive.

Cheyenne looked at it for a long moment. “What’s this?”

“It is the graduation banner from 1984,” Sabine said. “I researched Billings history and found out that Susan Llewelyn is one of our alumnae and she sits on the board of directors. She was the female valedictorian that year. So it’s not only Easton history, but Billings history as well.”

Rose shot me a look like,
Not bad.
I couldn’t have agreed more.

“Who’s Gaylord Whittaker?” I asked. “Is he related to—”

“He’s Whit’s uncle,” Constance blurted. “Everyone calls him Guy.”

Portia snorted a laugh and fluffed her hair, elbowing me in the cheek.

“Ow,” I protested.

She shot me a look like I had inconvenienced her, and turned her knees away from me in a huff.

“All right, moving on,” Cheyenne said, stepping past Sabine.

My fingers curled into fists. That was it? No compliments, no nothing? Did Cheyenne not understand how difficult it would be to break into the chapel and get that thing down? Not to mention the research that had gone into it. And Sabine hadn’t asked for my help once. If that wasn’t Billings material, I don’t know what was.

“Constance?” Cheyenne said.

Constance glanced at me before lifting the large Barneys shopping
bag off the floor. She hadn’t told me what Whittaker was sending her, wanting it to be a surprise. With a smile in my direction, she reached inside and made a yanking motion, but whatever was inside got stuck as she tried for her dramatic reveal. Cheyenne rolled her eyes and clucked her tongue, which only made Constance shakier. Finally, she simply tore the bag down the front and the contents were revealed. Hanging from a wooden hanger was a dark blue jacket with the Easton crest on the pocket, a blue-and-yellow-striped tie, and an ancient blue cap.

“Wow. Nice,” Tiffany said from behind me. “That’s one of the old Easton uniforms, right?”

“From the early nineteen hundreds,” Constance confirmed.

Someone whistled, impressed.

“Doesn’t get much more historically significant than that,” Rose said.

Constance beamed.

“Yeah. And gee, I wonder how you got it.” Cheyenne said, glaring Constance down. Constance backed up a step as if there were actual heat coming off Cheyenne’s face.

“Problem?” I said.

“I thought I made it clear that they weren’t supposed to have any help,” Cheyenne replied, glancing at me. “Did you get this somewhere on campus?” she demanded of Constance.

Don’t answer that. Plead the fifth.

“N-no,” Constance said.

“So where
did
you get it?” Cheyenne asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “From your little boyfriend?”

“Cheyenne,” I said in a warning tone.

“Whit isn’t exactly little,” London joked.

Constance’s face burned.

“Leave her alone,” I said firmly.

“To be fair, Cheyenne, you never actually said they
had
to steal something. Just that you wanted them to bring back a piece of Easton,” Rose pointed out. “They just assumed stealing would have to be involved.”

As always Rose was there with a very good point. Constance appeared to be buoyed by the backup. She gripped the hanger, her chin lifted.

Cheyenne narrowed her eyes at Rose and her nostrils flared. “That doesn’t change the fact that she took the easy way out. And I’m sure her fellow neophytes don’t appreciate it.”

Actually, none of them had seemed to care until Cheyenne mentioned that they should. Then Missy and Lorna both sniffed in Constance’s direction, annoyed. Kiki, however, was eyeing the old Easton cap, probably trying to figure out if she could snag it for herself, and Sabine just looked sympathetic.

Finally, Cheyenne turned and faced Astrid. “And last, but certainly not least?”

Astrid looked around at all of us, hesitating. Nervous? Then she ducked her chin and crouched to the floor. She lifted up an obviously heavy and awkward object, wrapped in a thick blanket, then placed it on the floor in the center of the room. The girls behind me stood so that they could see. Astrid lifted the blanket and stepped back.
Underneath it was an old tarnished copper bell. The kind they used on
Little House on the Prairie
to signal everyone into school.

“OMG,” Portia said dramatically.

“How did you get it?” Tiffany asked.

“Now
that
is what I was looking for,” Cheyenne said proudly. Astrid’s eyes were trained on the floor.

“There’s no way,” London said, crouching down to see it better. “This can’t be the one. It has to be a knockoff.”

“A knockoff of a school bell?” Tiffany blurted.

“Uh, you guys?” I said. “What is it?”

“It’s the Old Bell,” Cheyenne said with a smile. “It hung in the tower in Gwendolyn Hall from 1838 until 1965 when they realized how badly its supports had rotted and they removed it. Ever since, it’s sat in the center of the table in the board of directors’ chamber.”

Trust traditionalist Cheyenne to know every word of the official Easton Academy history.

I looked at Astrid in amazement. I didn’t even know where the board of directors’ chamber was. How did she know about the bell? How had she gotten in and sneaked out of there with something so huge?

“Damn, girl,” London said with a smile. “You have got guts.”

“How did you do it?” Tiffany asked.

“Your arms must be
dying.
”

The room was suddenly all chatter as everyone gathered around to congratulate Astrid and admire the bell.

“How did you even know about this thing?” I asked. After all, I had never heard of it before.

“I . . . well, I . . . read about it,” Astrid said, her face coloring as she glanced at Cheyenne.

Instantly, the truth hit me like an anvil to the head. Cheyenne had helped her. That was what the whispered conference at the chapel had been about. That was why Cheyenne had made sure Astrid was presenting last. Because she knew the bell would make an impressive finale. Here she was getting on Constance’s case for seeking help, and she’d guided Astrid right through this thing.

I looked at Cheyenne, and she glanced back, snagged. As I opened my mouth to say something, she clapped her hands for attention.

“Well, well, well. I have to say I’m impressed with some of you,” Cheyenne announced as the noise died down. I wanted to say something right then. I did. But I didn’t want to embarrass Astrid, whom I actually liked, and whose head was hanging so low right now, she could probably smell her own feet. So I bit my tongue.

“Astrid, Missy, Kiki, good job. You really went above and beyond to impress us. Thank you for that. The rest of you . . . ” Cheyenne looked around at Lorna, Constance, and Sabine. “I don’t even know what to say. Except nice try.”

Constance shrank back toward the wall. Sabine’s jaw set. Lorna hugged herself tightly with both arms. I knew it right then. Knew that Cheyenne had decided long before she ever even devised this test, that three people were going to pass and three people were going to fail. Astrid was her friend whose family had taken tea with Prince William
on more than one occasion. Missy was a legacy. Kiki was one of the smartest girls in the junior class and the ridiculously wealthy daughter of a computer magnate. They were all perfectly acceptable Billings material. But Lorna was unattractive and a doormat, Constance was sweet and unassuming, and Sabine was, well, my friend. I couldn’t think of any other reason why she would be deemed unacceptable. Unless it was just that she was unmaterialistic and kind.

“Cheyenne, come on,” I said.

She completely ignored me. “Everyone has their place in the world, girls. I think you three should really start thinking about whether or not you want to keep trying to fit in somewhere you
obviously
don’t belong.”

Constance looked at me with shining eyes. I wanted to tear Cheyenne’s heart out just to show her how she was making these girls feel.

“Tonight you all need to go out and return these things to where they came from,” Cheyenne said.

“What?” Astrid blurted.

“I thought you wanted them to spruce up the house,” Sabine added.

“Like we can really spruce the house with stolen objects. What kind of idiot do you think I am?” Cheyenne scoffed. “They’re going to come looking for these things, and they cannot be found here. I expect each and every one of them to be back where they belong before dawn. Of course for some people, that just means calling the FedEx man,” she said, giving Constance a scathing look. “Good luck!” she trilled.

London, Vienna, Portia, and some of the others laughed at the newbies’ dumbfounded expressions as they trailed Cheyenne out of the room. Constance turned toward the wall to hide her tears while Lorna ran out the front door. I had never liked that girl, but in that moment I felt for her. For all of them. Even the ones who had won Cheyenne’s approval. Now they were faced with sneaking out
again.
With breaking and entering
again.
And in Lorna and Kiki’s cases, with replacing things that may have already been damaged beyond repair.

I had never wanted to strangle anyone more than I wanted to strangle Cheyenne at that moment. And with my history, that’s really saying something.

I awoke in the dead of the night when a hand covered my mouth. My heart left my body and I tried to scream, but all that came out was a back-of-the-throat groan. A flashlight flicked on, illuminating Tiffany’s face. I stopped struggling. Looked at her, confused. She was wearing an oversized T-shirt and silky pajama pants. She lifted a finger to her lips and pointed at Sabine’s bed. I glanced over. Sabine was dead asleep.

“Let’s go,” Tiffany whispered, releasing me.

“Where?” I rasped.

She tilted her head. Rose and Portia stood at the door. Portia in a floor-length green silk robe, Rose in a pair of DKNY baby doll pajamas. Each held a flickering candle. Color me intrigued. I got up, shoved my feet into my slippers, and walked into the hallway. Tiffany closed the door silently behind us. Portia thrust a candle into my hand and lit it, then handed another to Tiffany. I could hear footsteps downstairs. Murmured voices.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“It’s the vote,” Rose told me.

The vote? We were really going through with this charade? Really acting like we had any control over who lived here and who didn’t? And why the hell didn’t I know about it?

“You guys!” someone whispered up the stairs. “Are you waiting for an engraved invitation? Let’s go!”

We tiptoed in a line down the staircase and into the foyer. I expected to follow my friends into the parlor, but they turned left instead, away from the darkened gathering space. Toward the back door that had been locked and sealed up for as long as I’d lived there.

“Where are we going?” I whispered.

No one answered. Portia turned another corner, taking us behind the stairs, and I finally understood. The basement. For the first time since I’d lived in Billings, the basement door was open.

“We’re going to the boiler room?” I asked. That was, after all, the only thing that was down there. Or so I’d been told.

Someone giggled. Portia shot me a
You’re a moron
look over her shoulder and started down the creaky steps, holding her hand behind her candle flame. As I reached the top of the stairs, I could see a half dozen coiffed heads of hair descending before me, the ancient brick walls illuminated by the thin candlelight. There was no telling what lay at the bottom.

Irrationally, my heart started to pound with fear. Or maybe not so irrationally, considering the things I’d been through at the hands of the Billings Girls in the past.

“What’s down there?” I whispered over my shoulder to Rose.

“The dungeon,” she whispered in my ear.

Joking. But it didn’t make me feel better.

Portia was already five steps ahead of me, her robe billowing up behind her as she descended the stairs. Tiff and Rose were waiting behind. It was move now, or move never. I moved.

My knees quaked as I navigated the unfamiliar and uneven stairs. Instantly, the air turned thirty degrees colder. I shivered in my nightshirt, and my candle flame went horizontal. I quickly shielded it as Portia had, and held my breath.

At the bottom of the stairs was a huge slatted wooden door. Open. Beyond that, pitch black. My housemates had formed a circle in the center of what felt like a small frigid chamber. I stubbed my toe on something hard and cursed under my breath. Foot throbbing, I hobbled inside and took my place next to Portia. Directly across from me in the circle were Vienna, London, and Cheyenne. As soon as we were all inside, Tiffany closed the huge door with a creak.

I had never thought until that moment that I was claustrophobic. Turned out maybe I was. I could feel my pulse in every inch of my body. There was an incessant dripping somewhere nearby. Behind me, some sort of box or chair pressed into the back of my calf. I couldn’t tell what it was. The darkness was so thick, I couldn’t see my feet.

“Welcome, sisters of Billings, to the inner circle,” Cheyenne said with pride.

My heart skipped an excited beat.

“Many years ago, our sisters established this tradition, this ritual
for the all-important selection of the members of Billings House. Tonight, we continue that tradition,” Cheyenne said, her eyes agleam. “Ladies, take your seats.”

Everyone around me dropped down. I hesitated a moment—not knowing what was behind me—then did the same. My butt hit the arm of a chair before sliding into a hard seat. I bit my lip to keep from crying out in pain. Cheyenne stepped forward in a beautiful white nightgown, trimmed with intricate scalloping. Her candle illuminated an old-fashioned silver lantern on a table in the center of the circle. Once it was lit, I could see everything in the dim light. All ten faces. All ten chairs. Six easels set up along the wall, each with a black lacquer bowl in front of them. Each with a photo of one of the new girls sitting above. There were shallow bowls dug out of the arms of my chair. In the right bowl, six black marbles. In the left, six white. There was a silver candle holder just behind the bowl on the right side. I followed Portia’s lead and placed my candle in it.