Ominous (16 page)

“What connection?” I asked Noelle, intimidated by her frenetic restlessness. “What are you talking about?”

“I know why they’ve taken Astrid, Lorna, and Missy,” Noelle said, her eyes wide, as if she’d been mainlining espresso all night. She grabbed Eliza’s pages from the floor, wrinkling the edges in her grasp. She flipped through them, reorganizing them, searching them frantically for something.

“Why
who
have taken them?” I asked standing.

Noelle groaned in frustration as her eyes scanned a page. “Look!” she said finally, holding one out to me. “Look what it says right there. Caroline Westwick’s final words.”

I didn’t have to look at the page. I’d practically memorized it. “I don’t belong.”

“Right!” Noelle said. “Eliza says that Helen had a theory that everything went bad because a girl who hadn’t been properly chosen and initiated had been let into the group.”

“The coven,” I corrected.

Noelle rolled her eyes, letting her arms and the other pages flop to her sides. “Fine, the coven. So if what Grandmother said about these alumnae factions is true, if there are really some crazy old bats out there who think that all this stuff is real, maybe they’re trying to get rid of the people who weren’t properly
chosen
to be in Billings.”

A whoosh of realization nearly blew me off my feet. Astrid, Lorna, and Missy hadn’t been vetted by the other Billings Girls and invited into the house like tradition dictated. They had been handpicked last fall by then-headmaster Cromwell when he’d been trying to do away with all the elitism he felt Billings House engendered.

“Noelle,” I said, feeling a rush of excitement. “You’re brilliant.”

“I know,” she replied, looking more like herself than she had since Paige’s phone call.

Then the triumphant rush fizzled and died. Because if she was right, this wasn’t over.

“That means Constance and Kiki are in danger too,” I said.

“And technically Sabine,” she added.

I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah. Can’t say I’m that worried about her.” I lifted my phone. “We should call them. And the police.”

“The cops will never believe us,” Noelle said, grabbing the phone from my hands. “We have to go tell Grandmother and Daddy.”

I planted my feet as she tried to tug me toward the door. I’d only seen her father for five seconds upon our arrival. We’d basically exchanged hellos and that had been awkward enough. I had kind of hoped I could wait out the rest of my stay up here in the cocoon of Noelle’s suite and not see him again until the big birthday bash, when there would be so many people present I might not actually have to talk to him.

“Reed? Come on,” Noelle said.

I hesitated. She rolled her eyes. “You’re going to have to be in the same room with him sometime.”

“Fine,” I said. “But you do the talking.”

She smirked, took my hand, and pulled. “Just the way I like it.”

Mr. Lange sat on the edge of the leather couch in his office, his hands forming a steeple in front of his mouth as he listened to Noelle’s story. Even though it was the crack of dawn, he wore expensive-looking gray trousers and a dark blue button-down shirt without a crease in sight. Not a hair on his head was out of place, but I supposed that wasn’t difficult to manage with a close-cropped Caesar cut. His handsome brow was furrowed, and every now and then he’d look up at me furtively, as if checking to make sure I was still there.

This man slept with my mother. This man slept with my mother and made me.

I was in serious need of some air, but instead of hoofing it for the nearest window, I clutched Josh’s hand. We sat together on the love seat in the U-shaped seating area. He’d arrived just before we walked into Mr. Lange’s office, and I couldn’t have been more glad to have him there. Part of me was dying to ask him about his dream—the one
that had woken him up and inspired him to call me—but that would have to wait.

“If I’m right, Constance Talbot and Kiki Rosen are in danger too,” Noelle said, glancing at her grandmother, who stood with her back to the window, wearing an impeccable royal purple suit. “We need to warn somebody.”

Mr. Lange took a deep breath and blew it out. He leaned back, the couch cushions squeaking as his weight shifted. He didn’t seem surprised by all this talk of covens and curses and factions.

“This is why I didn’t fight when Hathaway told me he was tearing down Billings,” he said gruffly. “This is why I want nothing to do with the new construction. Everyone who has ever been associated with that place is either off their rocker or dead.”

Wow. So much for Noelle’s idea about a new Billings being my birthday gift.

“Wallace.”

“Sorry, Mother,” he said automatically. “Except you.”

She smirked and I almost laughed. It was kind of humorous, seeing a man of his size and stature scolded by his diminutive, elderly mom.

“Well, what do you think, Mother?” he asked finally.

“You don’t believe me?” Noelle blurted out.

“Of course I believe you, Noelle,” he semisnapped, his brown eyes annoyed. “But this is a serious situation. Would you mind if I asked for a second opinion?”

Noelle fell silent. Mrs. Lange took a few steps toward us, lacing her
fingers together, then unlacing, lacing, then unlacing. It was the closest thing to a nervous gesture I’d seen from her.

“I think you should make some calls,” she said.

“Fine.” Mr. Lange unfolded himself from the couch, rising to his full six-foot-four height, his silhouette blocking out all the sunlight from the window behind him. “Mother, if you’d call the Talbots and the Rosens,” he said, moving to the huge desk that stood in front of the biggest wall of bookcases I’d ever seen. “I’m going to call my assistant and have her cancel Reed’s party.”

Noelle and I exchanged a look.

“What? No.” Noelle walked over and stood on the opposite side of the desk, her fingertips grazing the surface. “Daddy, you can’t do that.”

He held the desk phone’s receiver in his hand but pressed his fingertip into the connector button, silencing the dial tone.

“And why, exactly, can’t I?” he asked, his gaze once again flicking to me.

I cleared my throat and stood up, releasing Josh’s hand.

“Because … if whoever is doing this is really after the Billings Girls, they won’t be able to stay away,” I said.

“Which is exactly why we’re canceling,” he replied, speaking slowly, as if I were somehow addled. My face burned and I looked to Noelle for help.

“But Daddy, if we have the party, we hold the home-field advantage,” she said. “We can draw them in and pounce.”

Someone in the corner cleared her throat. We all turned around
to find Ginny, the head guard, raising a finger. “If I may say, sir, as a strategy … it’s not bad.”

“Using my daughters as bait is a good strategy?” he snapped.

My skin tingled uncomfortably. It was the first time he’d referred to me as his daughter. I reached back for Josh’s hand, and he stood up and hugged me instead.

“I don’t like it,” he said unhelpfully.

“Sorry, Hollis, but I don’t think you get a vote,” Noelle said over her shoulder.

“Yes, he does,” I said, my mouth half against his shirt.

He kissed the top of my head.

“Sir, I promise you that if you allow me to run the security for this event and to bring in the rest of my team, not only will no harm come to your family, but we’ll catch whoever’s doing this,” Ginny said, her voice low with emotion. “Let me do my job.”

Mr. Lange glanced at his mother. She gave the slightest of nods. He closed his eyes for a moment, pinching his forehead between his thumb and forefinger.

“Fine,” he said finally. He dropped the phone back into its cradle. “But I want to see all security plans at least twenty-four hours before the party begins.” Then he looked up at me and Noelle and wagged a finger between us. “And I’m not taking my eyes off the two of you the entire night.”

“Sounds like a blast,” Noelle said sarcastically.

Mr. Lange let out a sigh and looked down at his desk, shaking his head. “Is that it?” he asked finally. “Because I have a lot of calls to make.”

“Come on, you two. Somewhere in this house there’s some French toast with our names on it,” Noelle said to me and Josh, heading past us for the door.

“Actually, Reed, I’d appreciate it if you’d stay for a moment,” Mr. Lange said.

I looked up at Josh, gripping him even harder. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’ll be right outside.”

I nodded and let him go. Mrs. Lange and Ginny left the room as well, closing the door behind them.

“Have a seat,” Mr. Lange said to me. He tapped the end of a pen atop his desk as he walked slowly around it. As I retook my place on the love seat, he sat down near the end of the couch again, kitty-corner from me. I pressed my legs together, clasped my hands atop them, and held my breath. He opened his mouth to speak, then shook his head and laughed.

“Wow. I normally don’t have any trouble making speeches,” he said.

“You don’t have to make a speech,” I blurted out. “I get it.”

Although I got nothing.

“And I’m sorry I didn’t call you back,” I said. “I was just …”

I trailed off. What was I supposed to say?
I just wanted nothing to do with you?

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about that,” he said. He leaned forward with his forearms across his knees and pressed his fingertips together. “I’m sure you have a million questions. I just want you to know I have zero expectations here. As much as I’d like to get to know you, I can
only imagine what you think of me, so I understand if you’d rather me just be the peripheral father of your best friend.”

The humble nature of his words was so unexpected, I was touched. The few times I’d been in Mr. Lange’s presence, he’d always been larger than life, in charge, and somewhat gruff. That he would soften so much for me had to mean something.

“Can I ask you a question?” I said.

“Yes. Anything.” He leaned forward, forearms on his knees, and touched all ten fingertips together.

“How long have you known?” I asked.

His eyes grew wet almost instantly and he quickly looked away. “Since the day you were born,” he said. He pinched his forehead again and blew out a sigh. “My mother, of all people, told me. I went to the hospital and saw you …” He got this faraway look in his eye. “You were so tiny. Tinier than Noelle had ever been.” He paused for a fond, private laugh, then sighed once more. “I told your mother I would help her, that I would be involved in any way she wanted me to be. She thanked me and promptly told me to go away. She wanted your dad, to be your … well, your dad.”

“And you were fine with that?” I blurted out, surprising even myself.

“No, actually, I wasn’t,” he said. “But it wasn’t up to me.”

“What about your wife? Does she know?” I asked.

There was a pained look in his eyes. “She does. I told her when I found out. We dealt with it.” He took a deep breath and blew it out. “Can’t say she was overly excited when you came into Noelle’s
life,” he said, shooting me an apologetic look. “I can only imagine you noticed her somewhat … cool demeanor in St. Barths.”

I nodded slowly. At the time I’d thought Noelle’s mom was never around because she was flighty and eccentric, but she was just avoiding me.

“So until the day I was born you never knew my mom was pregnant with your …” I swallowed. “How did your mother know?”

He gave a rueful laugh. “That woman, like her mother before her, has always kept an almost obsessive eye on the old families—the Williamses, the Billingses, and whatnot,” he said. “She probably somehow knew about you before your mother did.”

I gave a small smile.

“Anyway, I just wanted you to know … I don’t know …,” Mr. Lange said. “I suppose I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable around me.”

I looked him in the eye. “I’m not,” I said, only realizing it was true as I said it. Suddenly I was glad he’d made me stay behind. “Thanks, Mr. Lange.”

His eyes shone as he gave a tight, hopeful smile. “Anytime.”

Everyone in the restaurant was staring at us. Not that I could blame them. It was a boring, cloudy Thursday afternoon, and with two huge bodyguards hovering at our table, their backs to the window, blocking the view of Park Avenue for the rest of the diners, we were conspicuous enough to draw interest. One girl at a nearby booth kept holding up her cell phone at odd angles, ostensibly trying to get a signal, when she was obviously trying to get a photo of Noelle. She probably figured she was famous and wanted to zap her pic off to Page Six. Noelle had clearly noticed and was playing her role perfectly, wearing her huge, dark sunglasses at the table, even though we were inside.