The Oxford Inheritance (29 page)

Cassie startled, whirling around so fast water splashed to the floor. Henry Mandeville was lounging in a chair by the window, watching her with an amused icy stare.

She forced herself to act calm. “Your family has a way with locked doors,” she commented. She turned back to the sink and refilled the glass before taking a few steps toward him. “To what do I owe the visit?”

Henry raised an eyebrow. He was dressed immaculately in a three-piece suit, a pocket square peeking from the breast of his jacket, his white hair combed neatly back. “I understand you're to be our offering,” he said.

Cassie met his gaze. “That's correct.”

Henry narrowed his eyes. “It's a great honor to be chosen to represent us,” he said slowly. “To have the opportunity to ascend to our ranks.”

Cassie remained cool. “I understand.”

“And you know what the ritual will demand of you?” Henry rose to his feet, slowly crossing the room to her.

Cassie nodded, her heart beating fast. Henry came to a stop in front of her. “You're a hard girl to find, Miss Blackwell.” He emphasized her name, as if he knew it was a falsehood. “Few records, even fewer friends. We are some of the greatest families in the land. Our lineage stretches
back for generations, unimpeachable. What makes you think you deserve to walk among us?”

Cassie swallowed. “I thought I had to prove I deserved my place. Isn't that what the ritual is all about?”

Henry didn't seem impressed. “My grandson is very important to me. It's time he left this . . . nursery behind and took his rightful place at the head of the family. This ceremony will cement his fate.” His hand shot out to clasp Cassie's jaw. She flinched back in shock, but he gripped her tight with bony fingers. “Let's see, shall we?” he murmured, running his thumb across her cheek.

Cassie shivered. She could feel the coldness of his stare, the black depths of those eyes, but somehow, she couldn't look away.

She felt the darkness, creeping on the edges of her mind.

Cassie gulped. This was a test, to see if she was worthy of being their sacrifice. She couldn't resist him, not unless she wanted to reveal her strength.

Closing her eyes, Cassie let him in. It took everything she had not to fight it, the coldness slipping into the recesses of her mind, the shadows that blotted out her thoughts, her memories, but Cassie forced herself to hold back. To stand, silent, compliant, and let him explore with chilling leisure. She wanted to run screaming, she longed to fight.
Not now,
she told herself, clenching her nails deep into her palms, feeling tears sting the corners of her eyes.
Not yet.

Henry released her, stepping back. Cassie surfaced, shaking.

“Interesting . . .” Henry paused, watching her, as if savoring a fine wine. Cassie's breath came fast. She wondered if he could tell she was different, if, somehow, her mind had revealed her secret.

Finally, he nodded. “You'll do.” His business completed, he turned to leave.

“Wait,” Cassie found herself calling after him. “What happens after the ceremony? When—
If
I pass the test?”

Henry gave her a cool smile. “Then, my dear, your real life begins. As one of us, you will achieve anything you desire.” He tilted his head. “What is it you want from life? Fame, fortune, riches?” There was a note of derision in his voice.

Cassie blinked. She couldn't think of a lie, so she told him the truth instead. “I want to be so powerful that nobody can ever hurt me again. I want to be untouchable.”

Henry's face was almost approving as he surveyed her again. “A noble aim. Good luck to you, Miss Blackwell.” He nodded, and then he was gone, a dark shadow on the stairwell, a black smudge beneath her window as she went to watch him walk away.

SHE DREAMED THE SAME AS BEFORE: OF DUSTY CATACOMBS AND
flaring torches, of running and panic and fear. She dreamed of darkness, and when she woke, the hunger was thick in her veins.

Cassie lay awake, and she counted the minutes. This was her last night. Her only night.

This was the end.

AFTER ALL HER RESEARCH, ALL THAT TUGGING AT THREADS AND
loose ends, Cassie still didn't know the true danger she was walking into that night. That was the real secret of the School of Night; let people whisper about privilege and power, but in all the centuries of rumor, there was not one hint of the darkness lurking beneath their aristocratic surface. She had nothing to guide her through this mysterious ritual, nothing but instinct and a desperate hope that whatever she was facing, she would have the strength to match it. Destroy it.

Tremain wasn't sharing their secrets, perhaps out of a misguided hope she would still call off her plan, and Hugo remained frustratingly vague. All he would tell her is that the night would begin with dinner, a formal meal for the whole society in one of Raleigh College's private dining rooms. He picked her up at nine
P.M.
, dressed in a suit, his expression nervous.

“You look beautiful,” he said, taking in her appearance. Cassie had chosen Evie's black dress to wear. An honor, and a reminder.

“Thanks,” she said, self-conscious. “I just need to get my purse.” She went back to her bedroom, slipping on a pair of heels and fastening her mother's necklace at her throat. Her expression in the mirror was anxious and full of secrets. Cassie forced herself to take a breath, fighting back the nerves that were twisting in her stomach.

This was it. There was no time for fear, not anymore.

Back in the living room, Hugo helped her into her coat. “You packed,” he said, looking around the sparse room.

Cassie shrugged. “Just in case.” Packing her things, she'd methodically stripped the apartment, wanting to save some poor porter the task of collecting her belongings the way she'd done for Evie. It was easy to dismantle her life in Oxford: to pack away her notes and return library books, file her last essay and lay her robes out on the bed to be returned. As usual, she wouldn't leave a mark on this town; she would disappear as quickly as she'd arrived. Aside from Charlie, there would be no one to remember her. It would be as if she'd never existed at all.

Charlie had tried to call her in the days since their last meeting, but Cassie had forced herself not to answer the phone. It was futile talking to him again: he would only try to dissuade her, and now she was more determined than ever.

“Shall we?” she asked, holding out her arm, but Hugo suddenly moved to block the door.

“It's not too late,” he said urgently, his dark eyes meeting hers. “You don't have to do this.”

Cassie blinked, startled. He couldn't be wavering now. “You said it would be okay, that you'd protect me.”

“I know, but . . .” Hugo trailed off. He looked conflicted, and Cassie couldn't help but feel a bitter irony. Now, of all times, he was having a crisis of conscience. He thought she was going into this blind, another willing sacrifice, and Cassie had to play that part right up until the end.

“What's wrong?” she asked carefully. “Have you changed your mind?”

Hugo swallowed. “No, I just . . .” He looked away. “You know the risk. Nobody has ever survived,” he admitted quietly.

“Nobody is like me.” Cassie replied, before realizing she might have given away too much. She knew she had the society blood running through her veins, but that secret was her only advantage going into this ritual. She tried to play it off as brashness. “I mean, you said it yourself, it felt different, when you tried to connect with me. I can do this.”

“But even so . . .” Hugo paused. “This life, the cost . . .” His ex
pression hinted at an inner anguish. “It traps you, Cassie. It's a gilded prison, and once you're inside there's no way out.”

She watched him, wondering how deep this indecision ran. Could she use it for her plan? “Would you take it back, if you could?” she asked. “End it all—the power, the pain?”

Hugo frowned. “What do you mean?”

Cassie knew she had to tread carefully. “I mean, be your own man for a change, instead of following the family line.” He'd complained to her before of the frustrations of living up to his name—the expectations that came with being a Mandeville, all the weight that entailed. If he would help her, during the ritual, if he could turn his back on everything . . . “Imagine if you could just be free,” she urged him. “To do whatever you wanted. No pressure, no rules.”

Hugo gave her a resigned smile. “There's no use imagining. My destiny was decided a long time ago.”

“But wouldn't you want the chance to choose?” Cassie pressed. Having him as a true ally could make all the difference. “Tonight—”

But they were interrupted by a clatter of footsteps on the stairs. “You're going to be late!” Olivia cried, bustling into the room. She moved between them, linking her arm through Cassie's. “I can't tell you how happy I am that you'll be joining us,” she said, offering a brittle smile. “I know you'll do just great.” Her dark eyes were guileless, her expression bright and sincere. Cassie would have believed her, had she not seen the truth hiding behind Olivia's perfect smile that night in the maze.

“I think I will, too.” Cassie faked a smile, following her to the door. She shot a glance back at Hugo, but he was looking away. “I'm so excited about the ritual,” she continued, to Olivia. “Do you know what will happen?”

Olivia shook her head. “It's my first time too. But everything will be fine; it's just a formality,” she reassured as they crossed the quad, their silk dresses whispering in the night breeze. “A lot of funny old role-play. Don't even worry about it.”

Cassie couldn't even feel surprised by the lies. “What a relief,” she said, playing along. “I'm sure it'll be fun.”

As they walked along the pathways, Hugo following behind, Cassie couldn't help but notice the other students heading in noisy groups to the bar for a drink, or walking back from the library, weighed down with books. They were in a world of their own, oblivious to the ancient rituals about to play out inside the walls of their beloved college, the darkness corrupting the very foundations beneath their feet. Could that have been her life, Cassie wondered, if she hadn't stumbled onto the School of Night? What if she'd let her quest for the truth about her mother drop at the first hurdle and turned her attention instead to her essays—joined clubs and teams, thrown her determination toward a different goal?

“What are you thinking about?” Olivia demanded brightly as they entered the far building.

“Oh, nothing,” Cassie said easily. “Just an essay I have due next week.”

Olivia laughed. “Believe me, after tonight essays will be the last thing on your mind. You'll have far more important things to think about.”

She was right. It was hopeless for Cassie to imagine some other life. She would never have quit her pursuit of the truth; it wasn't in her nature. These were her choices. There was no escaping the person she was. And tonight, she would make the School of Night pay for their crimes—or die in the process.

Olivia led the way up to the second floor of the cloisters, where a stern-faced
man stood guard at the door. His gaze swept over them, and then he stood aside with a silent nod.

Cassie stepped inside with Hugo, her nerves growing. People were milling around the grand room, drinking glasses of wine and creating a pleasant hum of laughter and conversation. It looked like any ornate dinner party. She scanned the crowd, recognizing with a shock several of the faces lit up with excitement and expectation: politicians, titans of
business, and the media. Rutledge was right; this stretched to the highest echelons of society. Cassie stifled a tremor. If she didn't stop them, their power would only grow, unchecked. The death and destruction would be visited upon a new generation.

“Let's get some drinks in,” Olivia declared excitedly. Hugo glowered at her, but Olivia just shrugged. “What? It's supposed to be a party.” She flagged down a passing waiter carrying a tray of glasses of champagne, took one for herself, and handed one to Cassie. “To our newest member.” She raised a glass to Cassie, and Cassie mirrored the gesture, chilled by her carefree demeanor. Did Olivia realize the fate that lay in store for Cassie, or was she simply being naive?

Cassie saw Lewis enter, looking pale and nervous. He lit up, however, when he saw Olivia and wove through the crowd to meet them. “Don't you look smart?” Olivia cooed, brushing down his lapels. “Are you excited? I can't wait.”

Lewis managed a grin. “Of course, darling.”

Olivia glanced across the room. “They're calling for us, Hugo.” She nodded to where Henry was beckoning. “Better go pay our respects.”

Hugo placed a hand on Cassie's shoulder. “All right?” he asked.

She nodded. “Just fine.” She watched as the pair made their way across to their family. Henry was glowering watchfully; Richard, the future prime minister, smiled vaguely with that sense of warmth and comfort that had won him the hearts of the voters. Cassie wondered where their wives were, if they were welcome at events like this or if they kept to their place at home and let the men of the family handle the dark business at hand.

Cassie turned back to Lewis. He was visibly sweating in his smart dinner jacket, tugging at his tie. “Look at everyone,” he murmured awkwardly. “It's half the bloody cabinet in here tonight.”

“Did Olivia tell you much about the ceremony?” she asked carefully.

“Not much to tell, is there?” Lewis looked at her with a weak smile. “Just a few old incantations, right? Nothing to worry about.”

Cassie felt a flash of guilt. She knew the truth, but he was going in completely unprepared. “But did she explain how it all works?” she pressed, wishing she could warn him somehow, give him one last chance to back out.

Lewis swallowed, then gave a brief, reluctant nod.

“And you're okay with it?” Cassie said, shocked.

Lewis looked past her, across the room. “Liv says I'm strong enough.” He swallowed again, as if he was trying to convince himself. “She says there's never been anyone like me before. She'll protect me. She'll make sure I make it through.”

A chill spread through Cassie's body. That was what Hugo had told her: that she was different, that he'd protect her. Was it all part of the same lie? Had he fooled her into believing she'd make it out alive?

A gong sounded before she could reply, and they were called to take their seats at the long, ornate dining table. Cassie was shown to a chair beside Hugo, and Lewis, next to Olivia. Across the table, Miles sat, drinking happily, his hand on the shoulder of a boy Cassie recognized from the Radcliffe library. He was blush-cheeked and clearly nervous, no more than nineteen years old. Paige was farther down too, beside a blond girl whose eyes darted around the room. She met Cassie's curious stare and gave a tentative smile.

Henry Mandeville stood at the head of the table and tapped his glass for silence. “It's a great pleasure to gather you all here tonight,” he began, his voice ringing out across the room. “To see old friends, and share in ancient customs. For society is surely founded on tradition: the passing down of our rituals and history from one generation to the next. Tonight, we share that history, that noble tradition, with a new generation. The sons and daughters we've watched so proudly grow will now take their place as adults among us, part of our legacy to this world.”

Cassie glanced around. The guests were all nodding, smiling. She saw fathers and sons share a shy smile, looks of pride and achievement.

“But it's not just those who have inherited our customs who we cele
brate tonight,” Henry continued, his voice thick with pride. “As history marches on, it is our newest members who will fuel us in the coming years. These brave souls are taking the ultimate risk to join us, a risk that will be rewarded to the lucky few. Their fresh blood will give us power, expand our horizons, and set this noble group on our course in the coming years.”

Cassie hid a shudder.
Fresh blood . . .
It was no lyrical turn of phrase he was using. All around the room, the older members raised their glasses in a gruesome toast.

“So, as our ancestors before us, let us dine and be merry before the trials to come.” Henry looked around. “We may know—”

The main doors swung open, cutting him off. As all heads turned toward the interruption, Cassie had to stifle a gasp of surprise. Tremain, dressed in an impeccable suit, strode into the room.

Whispers filled the air, hushed gossip of surprise and scandal.

“What's going on?” Cassie asked, not taking her eyes from Tremain. Her heart began to race. She hadn't seen or spoken to him since that day in the study. What was he doing here?

“I don't know,” Hugo murmured. “He's not one of us, not anymore.”

Cassie watched as Henry moved to intercept him. The pair met nearby, close enough for her to hear. “I'm surprised to see you here, Matthew,” Henry murmured, icy and threatening.

Tremain stared back, unmoved. “I've come to make amends,” he said. “You were right, all along. I can't deny my true self.”

“You want to join us again?” Henry seemed surprised.

“I've fought it long enough. Rejecting my heritage was a foolish mistake.” Tremain inclined his head in a gesture of compliance. “It's time I accepted my place again and celebrated the rising with you all, as I should have done years ago. Family first.”

Henry paused, then finally broke into a chilling smile. “Welcome home, friend.” He shook Tremain's hand. “Join us for dinner. I'm pleased to welcome you back.”

Cassie watched them take their seats, her heart in her throat. It didn't make any sense—until Tremain caught her eye across the table. His face was impassive, but he gave her the smallest flicker of expression as their eyes met. She realized at last what this was all for.