Under the Rose (35 page)

I picked up one of the earliest e-mails from “Nestor.” I will give the Elysion boys this: They sure knew how to pick their names. I’d read Homer. Nestor was the wise old warrior who’d advised all the young heroes in
The Iliad.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re: next time

I think the complaints are unfounded. Naturally, our space does not have the grandeur of the Inner Temple, but it is far better suited to our purposes. Recall the temples of Mithras and other spartan assemblages. We’re warriors. What do we need of luxury? Besides, if you wish to split hairs, our entrance beats the crap out of theirs, and shares its history with the most glorious artifact in the Inner Temple.

Yours under the rose,

Nestor

Their entrance? But if everything in the tomb was built at the same time, why would an entrance have anything to do with the antiques we kept in the Inner Temple? And what “artifact” was he talking about anyway? The oil paintings? The engraving of Persephone? The elaborately carved throne?

The only thing I’d ever seen that looked like the throne was the carved wood frame on the diamond-dust mirror hanging in the basement. I faced the group. “Clarissa, you said someone had left the light on in the kitchen?”

“Yes. So what?”

“I think they’re meeting in the basement.”

“Where in the basement?”

“Behind the mirror.”

En masse, the nine of us headed over to the tomb on High Street. Discretion was a thing of the past. During the trip, I berated myself for ignoring all the signs. Poe and George, appearing in the kitchen out of nowhere. Poe, grilling me for what else I’d found out in Jenny’s room. George, making excuses for times he’d bailed on me and hiding secrets on his computer. I’d been sure it was about another girl. Clever, clever—any devious action on his part surely related to sexual, not societal, betrayal.

I was so clueless.

Josh and Harun threw open the tomb door and we strode in, completely mindless of who might have the street staked out. We took the stairs down to the basement and crowded into the narrow hall—nine little Diggers, staring up at the tall, mildly warped mirror.

Soze slipped his fingers around the edge of the frame and tugged, but the mirror didn’t move. “It’s not this side,” he whispered. He tried the other. “Still nothing.”

“Maybe there’s a catch,” Thorndike said. She ran her hands up and down the frame. “I can’t feel anything, either.” She dusted her hands off on her cargo pants. “Hate to say it, Bugaboo, but I think you got it wrong.”

“Let’s search the rest of the tomb,” said Juno. “They have to be here someplace.”

“No,” said Lucky. “I think she’s right. Look.”

She backed up a few steps and pointed at the mirror. The frame’s intricate carvings detailed the rape and imprisonment of Persephone, her seduction-by-pomegranate, and her eventual subscription into the royal family of the underworld. And there, at the top, sat a large carved rose.

Lucky looked at me and smiled. “Under the rose.” And then she leaned forward and pressed on the glass.

It swung open like a door, revealing a set of stairs.

“Hurry,” said Thorndike. “They had to have heard that.”

We rushed down the stairs, only to hit a set of double doors at the bottom. Thorndike flung them open, revealing a small, barrel-shaped room beyond. Old-fashioned hurricane lanterns illuminated seven figures in long red robes around a long table. They leapt to their feet, and I saw shock and dismay on every one of their faces. Most of them bolted away from us, to the far end of the room, where there was another door.

“Follow them!” I heard Thorndike shout, as chaos erupted in the corridor.

But I didn’t think I had the energy to run. I stood there watching as one of the two remaining figures pushed back his hood, to reveal Poe. The other, still seated, leaned forward in his seat, rested his chin on his hand, and sighed. “Sorry, ’boo,” George said.

My eyes began to burn. Okay, I was wrong. I turned and ran.

I hereby confess:

There are days when I think

it’s not worth the trouble.

18.

Benefits

I ran as if I hadn’t been awake for more than twenty-four hours. I ran as if the burn in my legs would somehow erase the need or the ability to cry. (It didn’t.) I ran as if Cerberus himself were chasing me. But it wasn’t a three-headed hound of hell who caught up moments after I slammed the Prescott gate behind me. And it wasn’t George, either.

“Amy, wait!”

I stopped. I clenched teeth and fists. And then, slowly, I turned.

Poe put his hands on the bars. “Open the gate.”

“There’s a reason,” I began in a choking voice, “they don’t let graduates keep their proximity cards. It’s because we don’t want you in our lives anymore!”

“Amy, I want to talk to you about this. Please, can’t you just calm down?”

“You lied to me! You betrayed us—again!”

“
I
lied to
you
?” His voice rose a few decibels. “Who was the one who pulled that act in New York today? You knew where Jenny was, and instead of telling me, after everything I did to help, you conned me!”

Yeah, and I’d felt bad about it at the time. But clearly it had been misplaced emotion. I stepped closer to the gate. “Jenny pleaded with me not to tell you. And she was right. You were working against us! What a lucky guess on my part, huh?”

“No, Amy! That’s not how it was.”

“Tell that to the goons the patriarchs sent to break into her apartment.”

He slammed his hands against the bars. “I
was
trying to help. I
was
worried about her. Believe me or don’t, I don’t care.”

“No. You don’t,” I hissed, getting even closer. I wrapped my hands around the bars as well and peered at him through them. “I was such a fool. This whole time, I’ve been telling myself that no matter what I thought of you personally, I could trust you to do what was best for the society. I was sure you of all people believed Rose & Grave came first.” I leaned in, until we were practically nose to nose. “You’re so good at making me look like an idiot, James. All along, you were trying to ruin us.”

“That’s not true!”

“No?” I dropped my hands. “Then explain the point of Elysion. Explain the point of stealing from our trust, of bogarting our members, of carrying on your own secret meetings in our tomb until you had compiled enough influence to go it on your own!”

For a moment, he said nothing at all.

I nodded, pursing my lips in an effort not to cry. When I’d regained enough confidence in my self-control, I went on. “You, who knows everything about the society. You know enough of the history to see what a bad idea this was. You know what they once used Elysion for. You know the kind of racism it represented.” I looked into his eyes, which were wide and gray and probably every bit as bloodshot as my own. “How could you start it up again?”

“I didn’t start it,” he said. “I swear. I didn’t know about it at all until the day you kicked me out of the tomb. I just—I missed Rose & Grave so much. It was the best time I ever had. The best friends. And it was gone. So when Nikolos came to me with an invite, yes, I went along with it. It wasn’t Rose & Grave, but I was welcome there.”

“But don’t you see?” I cried. “You’re
destroying
the society in your bid to cling to it. Grow up! Leave us alone!”

“If you didn’t keep begging for my help, maybe I could!” he shouted back.

“Hey!” George arrived at the gate. “Stop yelling.” He looked from Poe to me, then back again. “Mind stepping aside?”

Poe did, and George swiped his prox card over the sensor. The gate unlocked and Poe put his hand out to pull it open. George stopped him. “No, dude,” he said. “You’re not coming inside.”

“I just want to talk to her.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you,” I said.

“You were talking a few seconds ago,” he replied.

George slipped inside and closed the gate behind him. He came up to me, a small frown marring his perfect, gorgeous features. “This is really about me, isn’t it? Come on, Amy, let’s go someplace and discuss this.”

I wasn’t entirely sure it was about him, but I wanted a few words with Prescott here, too.

Poe pounded the gate. “No, Amy, wait!”

I glared at him. “Drop dead, James.” George put his arm around me and began to lead me away.

“For the last time,” Poe said in hushed tones, “it’s
Jamie.
”

I shrugged George off and looked over my shoulder. “Fine. Drop dead,
Jamie.
”

I went to George’s room without complaint, but once I was there, I unleashed plenty.

“How could you do this? Why did you lie to me?”

“I didn’t lie.”

“Another one! God, you’re good! How can you ever expect me to listen to you, to trust you, to feel comfortable around you, to…” Okay, I’d already said
trust you,
right? “…to sleep with you again!”

He looked hurt. “Not sleep with me?”

“George, our whole relationship is predicated on the idea that we, unlike all of those boyfriend/girlfriend idiots, were actually going to be honest with each other. Want to talk about the many, many times you’ve lied to me? How about what you were really doing on your e-mail on Thursday when I came over here? How about where you really were before you found me that night in the tomb? How about what you were doing the time you were supposed to meet me at the film festival? You weren’t writing a paper about Berlin! All this time, I thought you were lying to protect me from sordid stories about other women. It’s crazy;
that
I could have dealt with. But lying about Rose & Grave? No. The only promises you’ve ever made are about that.”

“You’re taking this way too personally.”

“No, George, I’m not. This isn’t about you and me. This is about you and the rest of the Diggers. I’m pissed at you as a
brother.
How could you do this behind our backs?”

He plopped down on his futon and took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I was hanging out with Nikolos a lot. He’s a cool guy. We’ve been talking about getting a boat this summer, cruising around the islands.”