Luminosity (Gravity Series #3) (The Gravity Series) (30 page)

“You’re completely sure about that?” Henry asked, his voice having gone quiet. We were silent for a minute. I heard my mother moving around upstairs, and it set off another wave of anxiety.

“That explains a lot, of course,” Henry finally said. “But this is crazy, you know that, right?”

“Of course I do. But we need to figure out how to stop it.”

Henry looked down at the ground, thinking. “The holiday party is coming up. Your mom is catering the dessert, right? I’m sure you’ll be invited by proxy. They’ll all be gathered together with their guard down. Maybe we can find out their weak spots.”

It was our best shot. I just didn’t know if it would be enough.

###

School had been calm for too long. Even the lame morning announcements had stopped until further notice. Theo barely acknowledged me and I felt friendless again. A heavy weight like a stone settled on my heart. With what I knew now, about Thornhill’s cult and the rituals, it was almost impossible to focus on my schoolwork. My grades began to slip.

I sat in class, tapping my pencil on my paper, lost in my thoughts. So many things seemed to be falling down around me; from my experience, it was always a domino effect.

There was a scuffle outside and people rushed to the side windows. I trailed behind them, trying to find a space to look out.

A security guard was escorting a man out of the building down the steps. A balding man in an ugly suit with leather elbow patches.

“Holy crap, that’s McPherson!” Becky Long exclaimed next to me.

It was indeed McPherson. He started waving his hands as though attempting to take flight. I expected the teacher to tell us to get away from the windows, but she was the one who opened one to hear what was going on outside.

“You will live to regret this! All of you!” McPherson shouted. He waved his pointer finger around like a gun at the security guards. “This is a conspiracy of the highest order!”

Another security guard joined the first two, standing like a wall to prevent McPherson from trying to bolt back inside.

When he was done with his tirade, he tripped down the stairs, stormed off and peeled out of the parking lot in his car. Gossip broke out in class as soon as he tore away down the street. But I kept watching the window, thinking of Phillip’s plan to get rid of him. He had succeeded, one way or another.

Supposedly, according to the grapevine in school, McPherson had been kicked out due to misappropriation of funds. I knew the truth behind the lie, but I had no way of proving it.

Claire was reading the paper in the kitchen when I arrived home.

“Guess what happened at school today?” I asked excitedly.

“Your principal got the ax,” Claire said in a bored tone.

I felt deflated. “Yeah, how did you know?”

She set the paper on the counter. “It’s all over the news. Doesn’t surprise me; he’s always been a little suspicious. I didn’t like the way he looked at the girls on the sports teams in their uniforms.”

“You tell me this now?” I asked.

“I thought it was my imagination. But it was like that back when we were in school, too.” She turned and regarded me for an uncomfortable, serious moment. I tugged at the neck of my t-shirt. The tension had been thick since she put the lock on the basement doors.

“We haven’t spent much time together in a while,” Claire said, in a strangely soft tone. “How about you and I catch up?”

“Okay,” I said, trying to smile. Instead, it just made me feel awkward.

She had me follow her into the den. I noticed, with swift discomfort, that she had started to box up Hugh’s books. The boxes were stacked up neatly by the window, labeled with author names. I sat on the couch, tilted away so I didn’t have to face them.

Claire settled next to me and put her hands on her knees, taking a deep breath. “So…how is school? You adjusting all right to being a senior?”

I told her a little about the boring aspects of school so far. For once, I wasn’t floundering in math, and that seemed to please her. The subject went to her days at school. She was good at steering a conversation back to herself.

“Do you have anything left from those days? Like keepsakes?” I was hoping she might bring something out that would give me more information about the mysterious prayer group.

From on top of the fireplace, she pulled out a flowered box and lifted off the lid. “These are all my things from the old days. Your dad thought I was silly for keeping these things. But they had good memories attached.”

Among other knick-knacks that only had meaning to her, there were pictures of her as a high school student. She pawed through them, lifting and separating the stacks.

“All this reminiscing is making me thirsty. I’m going to go get some tea,” she said, and left the room. I kept digging through the box. At the very bottom was a black-and-white picture of four men and a woman, standing in front of Dexter’s ornate fence.
The Thornhill Society, 1932. John Dexter, Cynthia Warwick, Hazel Ford, Paul Rhodes, Dr. George Slaughter.
My skin chilled to ice as I held the photo. A small sign hooked to the gate read ‘Umbra Regnum.’

I stuffed it in my pocket, shocked. So the original Thornhill members were related to some of those in the current ones, even Warwick. I remembered his rambling talk about ‘blood’. Before I could get too carried away, Claire came back into the room. I stood up, wondering if she’d know that I’d just taken something out of the box.

But instead, she pulled out yet another find—a gold frame, containing a faded color photograph of a girl with a short bob and a gingham dress.

“Who is that?” I asked, my eyes widening. It was the ghost that had stalked me.

“That’s your grandmother, when she was about your age.”

“Grandma Eleanor?”

“Yep.” She set the frame gently back into its nesting spot.

I swallowed hard. “God, I can’t believe it’s her.”

“What?” Claire asked, frowning at me.

“Nothing, it’s nothing.”

“No, you said something. You said “I can’t believe it’s her.” Have you seen her before?”

Caught, I tried quickly to figure out something else to say. It would have been easy, if I wasn’t already so nervous

“I might have seen her.”

“How? Claire said, biting off her words. “How do you mean?”

“I mean….”

Silence so complete it hurt my ears. All the blood had drained out of her face, leaving her white and ghostly looking.

“What?” she pressed.

“I see ghosts,” I burst, instantly hit with a wave of regret. “I’ve been seeing them for about two years now. I know it sounds crazy, but it isn’t some wistful dream or fantasy. Just like Eleanor. I know that she saw ghosts, too, and that’s why she was committed. But she wasn’t insane, she was telling the truth.”

To my surprise, not what I expected at all, she grabbed me by the shoulders and started shaking me.

“Who told you that?”

“I don’t—”

“Who told you?” She shouted emphatically, frightening me.

“I saw for myself. In her medical records.” Technically it had been Aunt Corinne before that, but I didn’t want to make her even more furious.

“I shredded the medical records, it’s impossible.” She gathered her things up and slammed them back into the box, hiding it back in the bookshelf. “You don’t see anything. You’ve got a wild, irrational imagination.

“But Eleanor—” I protested.

“We don’t talk about that, ever.” Claire spun and stalked out of the room.

CHAPTER 25

CLAIRE WAS SHAKING
my shoulder. I squinted, my eyelids aching with exhaustion, and stretched my arm over my face.

“Time to get up. We’ve got a lot of work to do,” Claire insisted, her face framed by a halo of overhead light.

I blinked and sat up in my bed, feeling like I’d only just fallen asleep. Claire had already left the room. I was tempted to fall back on my pillow but I knew she’d be back in to bug me if I did. She’d left all of my lights on.

It was the day of Thornhill’s holiday party. The biggest event of the year for Thornhill, according to both my mom and Henry. Also the biggest opportunity I had to spy on the dark organization and find out the specifics of their plot.

I shuffled upstairs into the kitchen, greeted by pleasant smells from the oven. The fridge door was already hanging open, a mixing bowl and packages of flour and sugar on the counter. A stack of cookbooks sat beside that.

“Do they really need this much sweet stuff?” I asked groggily, putting my hair into a ponytail.

“It’s a big party,” Claire said distractedly, shutting the fridge door with her foot. Her arms were full of ingredients and cookware that she dumped on the counter. She’d always been a morning person. I had never been and no matter how many alarm clocks I set, I never would be.

It had been a week since she exploded on me about Eleanor. True to her word, we hadn’t spoken of it since. But now I felt genuinely afraid to be around her, knowing she had such a short fuse.

“Where do I start?” I asked, rubbing my goosebumped arms in my pajamas.

She pointed to the currently open cookbook next to the stove.

We spent what seemed like the entire day baking cookies and tarts and brownies. We used up every bit of Tupperware she owned, packing the rear seat of her car. The entire time, in the back of my head, I thought about the fact that I was baking sweets for an evil-worshiping cult. The surreality of my life had reached new heights.

After we’d finally finished with the baking, the day already feeling long, I got ready. I put my hair back in a barrette and swept on the fanciest makeup I knew how, complete with winged out black liner. I surveyed my work in the mirror approvingly. My pale skin looked smooth, and my hazel eyes looked more mature.

I pulled my old faithful black dress out of a dry cleaning bag from the back of my closet. Suitable for parties, assemblies, and funerals. It was way too tight, but I figured I could hide it with a sweater.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in, Claire.” I was studying myself in the mirror in the dress. Claire came to stand beside me. She was already dressed beautifully, her hair up in tight curls, with red lipstick and a stunning, fitted emerald green dress. She put my plain appearance to shame.

“You’re not wearing that,” Claire said firmly.

“What choice do I have?” I said, looking at her next to me. “It’s just this and my silver dress from the sophomore dance and that’s ripped in your sewing basket.”

Claire pulled out a hanger from behind her back. From it hung a beautiful, short red dress. It looked very expensive, the fabric shimmery and luxurious.

“I wanted you to look the part,” she said, smiling as she handed it to me.

I ran my hand over the silky fabric. “Like the daughter you never had.” I was only half-joking, but I was surprised she would get me such a pretty gift, no matter what the motive.

“Something like that,” she said, and left the room.

###

Hush Lake Golf Club was a private, ritzy location frequented by Thornhill. I’d heard of the place before, but as it was back at the tip of a winding, private drive, I’d never seen it. The pristine white building was breathtaking, sculpted rows of hedges strung with bright white LED lights that twinkled against the fresh snow. The architecture was Grecian, with columns and swirls.

Claire parked and was instantly out of the car and rushing to the golf club’s door.

“Aren’t we bringing the food?” I asked her quizzically, thumbs pointed towards the car, trying to keep up. It wasn’t easy in the heels she’d lent me; my ankles keep wobbling.

“Of course,” she said, smoothing out her dress. She checked her lipstick with one of her keys. “But we’re just feeling out the water first. We’ll come back and get the desserts after we’ve mingled.”

I had no intention of mingling with a bunch of bloody-thirsty, power hungry liars. Even if some of them were innocent. But I took a deep breath, remembering why I was there, and walked along.

With a start and a quick bite of pleasure, I saw Henry standing watch at the door, arms behind his back. He was greeting guests as they arrived. Currently, he was shaking the hand of an older man with a stuffy, tall wife wrapped in expensive white furs. He flashed both of them his dazzling smile. I gulped, feeling cold chill on my suddenly hot skin.

How am I ever going to fake ignoring him when he looks like that?

He was more gorgeous than ever in a dark gray suit. It made him look older. He’d cut his hair without me knowing, and it was shorter and more flattering. It was all I could do to stop from drooling.

“Why are you dragging your feet?” Claire harped, already throwing on an unnatural smile.

“Sorry.”

Henry and I didn’t show any signs of friendliness, just the polite coldness as usual. But it was incredibly hard for me; my heart pounded, hurting. I felt electricity run between us, and I had no idea how he was able to shut down so easily. But I noticed he wouldn’t quite meet my eyes.