The Complete Private Collection: Private; Invitation Only; Untouchable; Confessions; Inner Circle; Legacy; Ambition; Revelation; Last Christmas; Paradise ... The Book of Spells; Ominous; Vengeance (192 page)

“Oh my God.” She brought her free hand to her mouth. Nervous energy rattled her insides. She should have known. How could she have been so stupid?

“What?” Thomas sat up straight.

“Sergei Tretyakov.” Her voice trembled with excitement.

“The Russian kid?” he asked incredulously.

“He’s
Latvian
.”

“Seriously? You want to argue about this?” For the first time since they’d escaped Ketlar, Ariana saw light dancing in Thomas’s eyes.

“That’s his sweater, in the corner of the mirror.” Ariana brought the photo over and dropped down to the floor again so that he could see it. “You were right. When he took the picture from the doorway, he accidentally got himself in the reflection.”

Thomas looked skeptical. “You sure about this? I mean, why would—”

“He’s always had a weird thing for me,” Ariana said, intoxicated by the discovery. Now that she knew who the perpetrator was, she could do something about it. “Remember—the kid was taking so many pictures of me at the Winter Ball, Daniel had to steal his camera!” Her voice brimmed with energy. It was all starting to come together. “He’s practically obsessed. So he breaks into my room and steals the picture of me. Somehow he figures out that I’m still on campus, and follows me around, leaving that photo of us in your room. It was
his
blood on my coat.”

“Wait, how would he find out you’re still around?” Thomas interrupted.

“I don’t know,” Ariana admitted. “Maybe he spotted us the other night in Hell Hall or something. He could have been there dropping off work like I was. And—oh my God. He was at North Face when I was—the hat outside the chapel must have been his!”

“Kid’s a little creepy.” Thomas shrugged, not looking quite convinced. “But why leave that picture for us to find? He’s too lame to pull off blackmail.”

“Only one way to find out,” she said. “We have to break into his room.”

“Oh, no,” Thomas groaned. “I’m staying right here.” He shrank away from her toward the wall.

She shook her head. “I can’t do this alone, Thomas. And Drake is his permanent dorm. We don’t even have to go outside.”

Relief seeped through her heart. Sergei was a lot of things, but intimidating wasn’t one of them. They could handle this. Together. She checked her watch. Two hours until breakfast.

“We’ll wait until everybody leaves for breakfast and sneak in.”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” Thomas handed her the half-empty bottle of water and tore into a Zone bar.

“No. You don’t,” she said happily.

Ariana brought the bottle to her lips and let the cool water slide down her throat, calming her. In less than two hours, they’d have their answers.

“Can you walk?” Ariana glanced worriedly at Thomas’s ankle as they started up the basement stairs.

“Yeah.” He grimaced at the first few steps. “Nothing I can’t handle.” He gripped her face in his hands, a serious look suddenly hardening his features. “Your mission, Agent Osgood, is this: Break into the Russian’s room and make sure he’s not hiding your picture in there.” Thomas’s eyes danced with amusement. “Questions?”

“Thomas,” she giggled, “it’s not funny. This is serious. Now come on.” She held his hand as he limped slowly up the rest of the stairs.

“That’s Agent Pearson to you,” he retorted. “And I know it’s serious. Should you accept this mission, the path through the Russian’s room will be a dangerous one. There will be corduroy pants. There will be chess sets.”

“Again, Latvian.” Ariana rolled her ice blue eyes. “The
Latvian’s
room.”

“And worst of all, Agent Osgood, there will be . . .” Thomas paused dramatically, narrowing his eyes at her. “Argyle.”

“I think you’re still a little drugged, Agent Pearson,” Ariana said with a laugh.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Thomas said.

Ariana paused and leaned back against the stairwell, wanting to enjoy the lightness of the moment. After everything they had been through in the past two days, laughing with Thomas felt good. It felt normal. And, glancing out the windows, she noticed for the first time that morning how beautiful the campus looked underneath the thick covering of snow. It was as if someone had taken a white cashmere throw and tossed it casually over the grounds. The trees, the old stone buildings, the lampposts—everything was draped in pure white. Under the bright sunlight, Easton Academy looked innocent. Untouched.

“You ready?” she said finally, her hand on the door handle.

“Yep.” Thomas nodded, glancing suspiciously around the deserted basement. “Let’s move, Osgood.”

“You are such a dork,” she groaned. “When the guys get back to campus I’m going to tell all of them what a dork you are,” she lied. She wasn’t exactly sure which parts of this weekend she would ever divulge, but she was just having fun—and trying to keep her mind from wondering if the stalker really was Sergei and if he was actually dangerous.

Together they slipped into the darkened lobby of Drake House. Ariana lifted her index finger to her lips, motioning for Thomas to be quiet. He gave her an exaggerated nod and she had to concentrate
to stifle a giggle while he checked the directory board to find Sergei’s room number.

“He’s on four,” Thomas said as he limped to the elevator.

In moments, Ariana found herself staring at a dorm door covered in photographs. Shots of the Easton Academy campus. Pictures of buildings, professors, and students. There was a shot of Noelle giving the camera the finger at the Winter Ball, a look of annoyance tinged with self-satisfaction on her face. A candid of Dash and Thomas, tossing a football across the quad. A picture of the entire student body, taken from the back of the Easton chapel during the last morning assembly. Brilliant red and blue light filtered through the stained glass and spilled over the students. It was a stunning image. All the images were, in their own way. Somehow, Sergei had managed to capture something about Easton that Ariana couldn’t name. What Easton was, who its students were, when no one was looking, when it was stripped of the polished veneer of money, prestige, and power. Sergei had captured what was underneath.

“There you are.” Thomas pointed.

Ariana’s breath caught in her throat. In the photo, she was leaning against the marble column at the Driscoll, staring up at the ceiling, the light from the crystal chandelier spilling over her face and hair. She couldn’t take her eyes away from the girl in that picture. There was an innocence about her that seemed foreign. That girl felt safe and secure in the world. She trusted that everything was going to work out for her in the end. Ariana felt an unexpected twinge of anger.

“Ariana?” Thomas rested his hand on her shoulder and she flinched.

“What?” she snapped. Her voice severed the space between them like a razor blade.

Thomas looked surprised. “Nothing. I just thought you wanted to get this over with.”

Ariana avoided his gaze. “You’re right. Let’s go.” She pushed Sergei’s door open and tried the light switch on the wall. It worked. “Power’s back on.”

Sergei’s room was sparse and perfectly organized. His books and notebooks were stacked in symmetrical piles on his desk, and his bed was made so tightly, Ariana wondered whether he had ever actually slept in it. The attention to detail was familiar—comforting, in a weird way. It was a lot like Ariana’s room.

A single photograph of an older-looking man and woman hung above his dresser. And sitting on his nightstand, next to a tiny travel alarm clock, was another photograph. A black-and-white photograph of Ariana, blowing a kiss to the camera.

“Found it.” She sank onto the edge of Sergei’s bed in disbelief, staring into her own eyes. No matter how sure she’d sounded earlier, part of her still hadn’t believed Sergei could do such a thing. He was so unassuming, so quiet. But who knew what churned beneath his calm exterior? For the first time since she’d spotted the telltale argyle in the picture of her and Thomas, she felt afraid.

Thomas collapsed onto the bed next to her. “Got the camera,” he said, holding up Sergei’s Nikon. “Your boyfriend must have given it
back before he left.” He held it up so Ariana could see and pressed the display button at slow intervals. “But he let the Latvian keep his photos.”

Ariana stared at the glowing images on the display screen. Snapshots of her walking to class, clutching her books tightly to her chest. A picture of her and Noelle, laughing in the cafeteria. Countless images of her sitting alone, reading. And shot after shot of her at the Winter Ball. Nuzzling Daniel’s neck. Taking a sip of champagne. Twirling a lock of hair around her index finger.

She leaned against Thomas, suddenly feeling weak. “I had no idea he was this . . .” She couldn’t even finish her sentence. There must have been dozens of images of her in Sergei’s camera. Scrolling through them was like watching a slide show of her life for the past few months. Everything she’d done, everywhere she’d been, was right at her fingertips.

“Oh my God,” Ariana gasped.

The screen had just landed on a picture of her and Thomas as they entered the old chapel in the woods the other night, followed by a photo of Eli heading back in the direction of town. He’d probably caught the last train to Greenwich that night. Smart guy.

“I was right. He’s been following us this whole time,” she said, shoving the camera at Thomas. “What is
wrong
with him?”

She pushed away from the bed, clutching the framed picture in her hand. The familiar feeling of panic clawed at her once again, threatening to drag her under. If Sergei was capable of stalking her like this, what else could he do to her?

“Thomas, what if he
is
planning on blackmailing us?” Ariana said shakily. “He has dozens of pictures of us from the last two days. He could get us expelled in a heartbeat.”

“Ariana, it’s okay.” Thomas’s voice sounded far away. A loud beep emanated from the camera. “I just deleted all the files.”

“But he could have saved them on his computer. Or worse, an Internet account. That’s not a guarantee that—”

Thomas put the camera down and placed both hands on her shoulders. “It’s okay. We’ll take care of it.”

Ariana stared into Thomas’s eyes, but she barely heard him. Sergei could ruin everything. If she got expelled, her life would be over. She would never graduate from Easton, never get into Princeton, never have the life she and her mother had planned for her.

And she would never see Thomas again. She couldn’t let that happen. For the first time in her life, she was actually
living
. She was herself when she was with Thomas. Ariana, and nobody else. She couldn’t go back to the way things were before. Couldn’t go back to pretending. It would kill her.

Thomas was right. They were going to take care of this. Starting now.

Heart thundering, Ariana whirled around to the door and froze.

Sergei was standing in the doorway, his cold gaze fixed on her.

“You son of a bitch,” Thomas hissed, grimacing as he tried to put weight on his bad ankle.

There was something in Sergei’s dark eyes that sent tiny, electric chills through Ariana’s body. She recognized it instantly; the look that had surfaced in her mother’s eyes years ago and had never left. Desperation.

Sergei glanced from Thomas to Ariana to the photo in her hand, to the camera on his desk, and back again. Instantly, the desperation in his eyes morphed into fear. He turned from the doorway and ran.

“Sergei! Wait!” Ariana shouted, dropping the picture of herself on the bed and bolting for the door. She sprinted down the hallway behind Sergei. “We just want to talk to you!”

With every step, the gap between them widened. Ariana had never been much of an athlete, but she couldn’t let him get away.

“Kid’s fast,” Thomas huffed from behind her. His voice crackled with pain.

Ariana didn’t take the time to answer. She reached the stairwell and flew down the steps three at a time, slamming into the door at the foot of the stairs just as Sergei slammed it shut behind him. She smashed her fist against the heavy wood.

“Damnit!” She doubled over, gasping for breath.

“You okay?” Thomas was moving slowly down the steps one floor above. She looked up at him, feeling a sudden pang of guilt. She shouldn’t leave him alone in his condition.

“He’s getting away,” Ariana said desperately.

“Just go!” Thomas shouted, his voice bouncing down the stairwell. “I’ll catch up!”

Without another glance in his direction, Ariana threw open the back door and squinted against the glare of the sun’s reflection on the snow. Sergei had crossed the stretch of land behind Drake House and was headed into the woods. She gritted her teeth and followed with renewed determination. She
would
get to him. If he revealed those photos—the photos that showed her
cheating
on Daniel—she would lose everything. It wouldn’t matter that Daniel had lied or that he’d cheated first. All that would matter was that she cheated on Paige’s twin brother. She’d lose her friends, Billings, maybe even her mother. She would be a nothing.

Sergei disappeared into the thick covering of trees ahead. Every nerve in her body seized with terror. Reaching the edge of the woods, Ariana turned back for a moment to look for Thomas. He was limping
slowly toward her, at least twenty-five yards behind. She inhaled a sharp breath and ducked past the line of trees into the woods.

The crunch of leaves and branches under Sergei’s feet slowed up ahead. He was getting winded and she was getting closer. She weaved through clusters of old pine trees and ducked underneath their heavy boughs, adrenaline propelling her forward. Sergei was just ahead, struggling against a branch thick with pine needles. He shoved past it and it whipped back in her direction, the tip of the branch slicing across her face.

She brought her hand to her numb cheek. When she pulled it away, her fingers were covered in blood. Stinging anger rose inside her. Why was he torturing her like this? Sergei had her whole life in his hands. Easton, Billings, her mother, and Thomas.