Authors: Lisa Roecker
As soon as I was in the safety of my bedroom, I pulled the crumpled paper from my skirt pocket. Carefully smoothing it out on my desk, I flipped on my desk lamp and sat down to take a closer look. It listed thirteen stations and their original Latin inscriptions.
I wondered if we were right about the headquarters, if there really was a Station 13 beneath Pemberly Brown. I shook my head back and forth at the possibility. Just the thought of an underground room full of secrets made me feel as though I’d landed in the script of some crazy movie. This was the stuff Hollywood was made of, not Pemberly Brown. But as I ran my fingers over number thirteen on the list, I began to wonder.
If there really was a headquarters, did the stations actually lead down under the school? And what about the Brotherhood? We had seen boys coming out of the tunnels yesterday. Did that mean the two societies shared the tunnels? If so, maybe they weren’t really at war. Or maybe the Brothers were the ones in control at this point. Based on what ConspiracyLuvR said, it sounded like the power was always changing hands.
The buzzing of my phone interrupted my thoughts. Right on time, I had mail.
Sent: Thurs 6:15 PM
From: [email protected]
Subject: (no subject)
Station 13 is the place to be.
Each Latin word holds the key.
Was it weird that I was sort of getting used to the ghostly missives? They didn’t even give me the chills anymore. Maybe it was a sign that Grace really wasn’t a ghost after all.
I pushed the thought from my mind. That was absolutely ridiculous; besides, I had to focus on the task at hand. There was a Station 13, a headquarters, the place all the tunnels led to, the heart of the societies.
Each Latin word holds the key.
And yet I had to find some sort of key to get inside. Like a password. I was close, yet so, so far away.
But I had to start somewhere, and at least this time around I’d have Seth and Liam to help. I held the yellowed paper between my fingers and let my eyes fall to my favorite station, the clock tower.
Tempus edax rerum
. “Time, devourer of all things.” I stared at the ancient words, trying to find what was hidden, trying to find the key. But all I saw was a dead language.
This was going to be interesting.
• • •
After school the next day, the three of us sat huddled on the first level of the clock tower practically twiddling our thumbs.
“Well, we might as well go down to the basement. I’m thinking if there is a door, it will be down there,” I said, already starting down the stairs.
Seth rushed down past me and, as soon as he made it to the bottom, began groping the entire length of the old brick walls like some type of redheaded spider.
“What exactly are you looking for, Seth?” I asked.
“There’s got to be some kind of button we can push to reveal a hidden staircase.” His hands were everywhere, and he almost knocked one of the Time Keepers’ pictures off the wall.
The Time Keepers, or
Vicis Custodis
, were yet another PB tradition. Each year, one fourth-year student was selected to be the Time Keeper. In the old days before the clock tower had been remodeled, the Time Keeper would actually climb to the top of the tower and set the clock at the start of each school year. But now it was just one of those random honors that came with a college scholarship and a picture on the interior walls, the words
Ab Aeterno
, “From the Eternal,” engraved into the ornate frame.
When we were in lower school, Grace, Maddie, and I used to come down here to admire the rows of upper-school students, all grown up and official-looking. They were mostly boys, hot boys from where we were standing. We’d make up stories about who was going out with who and who was most likely to become a
Vico Custodio
during our fourth year. It might have made me sad to remember the three of us, but I was too distracted to reflect.
“Grace’s email said the Latin words hold the key. There’s got to be some sort of hidden key box around here. It probably has Latin words engraved on it,” I suggested. “You know, like the ones they put in gardens and stuff.” I got down on my hands and knees and began feeling around, searching for the hidden box.
“I don’t think they’d make it that easy,” Liam responded, his eyes locked on the rows of pictures. “I mean if there was a box down here with a key in it, anyone could find it, you know?”
He smiled, but I still felt stupid for being so literal. Then when he whispered, “Maybe next time,” with a raised eyebrow, I felt a blush creep into my cheeks. I brushed my knees off and punched him lightly on the shoulder.
Suddenly Liam was on his feet. He moved so quickly that it made me jump a little.
“What is it? Is someone coming?” Seth sounded panicked.
Without saying a word, Liam began lifting pictures off the walls and setting them gently on the ground. He ran his fingers over the brick, pressing every so often.
“The Latin words hold the key, right?” he asked, still lifting pictures. “The Latin at the bottom of the frames. This has got to be it.”
I rushed to the wall and began lifting frames as well. Once we had examined the space beneath each and every Time Keeper, we were no closer to Station 13 than we had been when we started. There was nothing but brick and mortar beneath the frames—no keys, no passwords, no answers. After replacing the final picture, I slapped at the bronze plaque marking the clock tower as Station 2. Not for good luck, but more out of frustration.
Think, Kate.
“The Latin holds the key.” What did that mean? I ran my fingers over the raised bronze letters as Liam knocked on the floor with his ear to the ground and Seth attempted to pull bricks from the wall with his fingers. And then it hit me. The phrase
Tempus, edax, rerum
was made up of letters. Lots of them.
If I rearranged the letters, I could form words, or passwords. I pushed the
T
in “
Tempus
,” and sure enough, the letter clicked into the plaque like a key on an old typewriter. Only it stayed indented. I tried to pick it back out with my nonexistent nails, but the
T
was stuck.
I stepped back, frustrated that I’d probably just destroyed our chances at getting in because I jumped the gun on the button pushing when, just as suddenly, the letter popped back out again. It was clearing itself! It might take a few seconds, but whatever controlled the access to the tunnels would reset, waiting patiently for the correct series of letters.
“You guys!” I shouted, stepping back and narrowing my eyes at the Latin words. “I think I know how to get us in.”
Seth and Liam rushed to each side of me, eager for an explanation.
“The letters can be pressed, and if they’re pressed in the right order, a door or something will open, granting us access.”
“So what? You just have to guess at what order to press the buttons?” Seth asked, stretching out his fingers in preparation for all the pressing.
“No, I think we have to form new words using the letters. ‘The Latin holds the key’,” I repeated, more to myself than anyone. “At least, I think that’s what it means. It’s worth a try, I guess.”
“Murder, era, set, seat, and dare.” All this time, Liam hadn’t said a thing, and now he was listing random words hidden inside the Latin phrase like he’d been doing it all his life. Seth and I watched, mouths hanging open. “What? I’m kind of good with puzzles.”
I punched in each letter, forming Liam’s words, but nothing. The letters all stuck in and all popped out without as much as a hint to where the trapdoor could be. We were missing something. I just hoped the code called for an English word. I was good at Latin, but not that good.
Time, time
, I repeated in my head, thinking of the clock tower. The code would probably have to do with time. And then, as though the letters were lit up from behind, I saw them, one by one. M-E-A-S-U-R-E. Time was the eternal measurement—that had to be it!
Each letter clicked into place, and as I pressed the second letter
e
, our final chance, I heard the dull pop of a door right next to Seth’s bright white Puma. A second ago it had blended in with the stone floor, and now out of nowhere came a door. I couldn’t believe it. All of us fell to the floor and pulled at the edges, peering down into the depths below. I clicked on my flashlight, took a few deep breaths, and hoped for the best.
We were going down.
As we descended the stairs, I was overwhelmed by our surroundings. Antique-looking sconces lit our way. The heels of my riding boots echoed softly on the well-worn stones that made up the stairs. The air felt damp and somehow ancient. It was like a totally different world.
“Guys,” I whispered. “Can you believe this?”
Seth ran his hand along the rust-colored brick that surrounded us.
“No,” they said at once.
The cobblestones beneath our feet glimmered, flecks of crystallized rock set off by the dim light of the sconces. I could tell that the tunnel branched off a few feet from us, and I found myself wishing we could have taken the blueprints as well.
“Which way are we going to go?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I’m totally turned around,” Liam answered, stopping for a second and trying to get his bearings.
“I think we should keep going straight,” Seth said.
“That’s funny, because I was gonna say we should turn right,” I said. “But I’m always wrong with directions. Let’s go straight.”
As we continued walking through the arched tunnel, I felt a pit form in my stomach. Here we were, walking beneath the school without any sense of direction and no way to defend ourselves if we got caught. We were confined by brick, and no one would hear our screams or even find our bodies, if it came to that. Grace had lost her life underground—could we? The brick walls seemed to cave in on me. I was trapped.
“I have to go back,” I said, nearly choking. “Turn around.”
I grabbed at the brick wall with one of my hands and began to breathe deeply. At that second, I wished I was anywhere but there. I’d even have taken the uncomfortable wooden chair that made my butt fall asleep at Prozac’s office over the tunnel. I took off in the direction we had come from and felt completely turned around when I made it back to the branch in the tunnel.
“Kate, wait!” The boys tried to whisper-shout, but I couldn’t stop. I turned left, stretching my neck to see if I could see light or anything at the end of the tunnel. But there were only stairs that led down, and I knew we hadn’t climbed up any stairs on the way there. I’d chosen the wrong branch. My horrific sense of direction had impeccable timing. I sat at the top of the stairs and put my head between my knees.
Liam and Seth ran to either side of me and rough-armed each other to see who could get a better hold. Liam won.
“It’s okay. It’s just a little claustrophobic down here,” he said. He gathered my hair away from my face and swirled circles on my back with his palm.
I looked up and over at him, just to make sure Liam was doing the touching, and noticed that Seth wasn’t next to me anymore.
“You guys!” Seth called from the bottom of the steps without even looking up at us. “It’s the nest…or the headquarters or whatever.”
Liam helped me to my feet, and we headed down the stairs. Portraits of women hung on both sides of the wall for as far as I could see down the hallway. The ones nearest us were the oldest photographs, so I assumed they got more recent the farther you walked down the hall. Each of the girls wore white along with a pendant around her neck. The same charm Cameron had found and the one in Naomi’s locker.
“Check it out,” Liam said, pointing to one of the girl’s necklaces. “That’s what was sketched with chalk the night…” He trailed off. I think we must have all noticed it at the same time. As we continued down the narrow hallway, we could see that the glass on the most recent pictures had been smashed.
“Why do you think they did this to the pictures?” I asked. It was weird, because they had clearly been hung with care. Not a single picture was crooked, and yet they had been systematically destroyed.
As soon as we got to the bottom of the stairs, we stood with Seth before a heavy wooden door. An intricate crown was carved into the grain and sat atop a Gothic-looking letter
S
. The crest. The door was a real, live version of the Pemberly crest, the Sisterhood’s symbol.
A bronze plaque hung below the
S
, the words
Audi, Vide, Tace
raised along it. But the beautiful door had been destroyed by a huge letter
B
someone had painted down the center.
“I don’t think we’re in Sisterhood territory anymore…” I ventured.
“No, it looks like there’s been a takeover. A hostile one.” Seth agreed.
“Well, that explains why Alistair was coming out of the tunnels.” Liam ran his fingers over the red paint of the letter. “Guess they haven’t patched things up after all.”
“The Latin holds the key,” I reminded the boys, but mainly Liam. Seth and I stood back as he began working his magic, sizing up the bronze letters.
But when we heard the muffled thump of a hatch shutting, we whipped our heads in the direction of the sound.
“Let’s get out of here!” I bolted up the stairs and sprinted down the long hallway, praying that this time I could lead the team out. Lines of light from the sconces filled my peripheral vision as I ran, and I remembered a song I’d heard in Liam’s car about light guiding a person home.
The end of the tunnel loomed before us. We rushed up a set of stairs and met a door, this time with a handle. As my fingers wrapped around the heavy iron, I said a quick prayer that the door was unlocked and pushed. Never in all my life had I felt such relief at the give of a door. The door thumped as it hit the ground above, and I stole a quick glance back before letting the daylight wash over me. We were safe. For now.
Sleep was hard to come by again that night. The memory of the tunnels and the secrets behind the carved door haunted me. I felt like all the pieces were laid out in front of me, but I still couldn’t quite put them together. I knew that once I figured out how the big picture looked, I’d be able to see the truth about Grace and the secret of the fire. And if I could just figure out the truth, there might finally be justice.
I scooted up against my headboard and adjusted the pillow behind my back. And there she was. Moonlight shone through the window, illuminating her silhouette as she sat on my window seat. As usual, her back was to me. She had her legs curled beneath the familiar Pemberly Brown plaid skirt. Her straight, dark hair hung to the middle of her back. Surprisingly, I wasn’t scared of her this time, just curious. Maybe I was too tired to be afraid.
Barely breathing, I pulled back the duvet covering my legs and lowered them to the floor, trying not to make a sound. I walked toward her slowly, my arm outstretched. I wanted to touch her. To feel her. To finally figure out if she was real or just some figment of my imagination. Just as my fingers were about to graze her shoulder, I opened my eyes.
I wasn’t near the window at all, but in my bed. I must have fallen asleep. Turning to my side, I pulled my hand up under my cheek and stared out the window. She was gone. Or maybe she was never there in the first place.
My room had brightened, the moonlight mixing with the glow from my computer screen. I pulled the covers down, for real this time, and tiptoed to my desk. I had another new message.
Sent: Fri 1:30 AM
From: [email protected]
Subject: (no subject)
You found the 13th.
But we’re out of time.
Come back the night of the dance.
Alone.
I’ll be waiting.
I read the last line a few times and felt a wave of butterflies. I tried to remind myself I was seeking justice, not an impossible resurrection. But no matter how hard I tried, a tiny spark of hope remained. A spark that lived in whatever lobe of my brain was run completely by emotion. And sometimes I’d even fanned the spark a little and started a small fire, convincing myself that everyone was wrong, that the funeral was fake and that Grace was alive, hidden away and waiting for me to find her.
I had no idea what would be waiting for me inside the headquarters, and I wasn’t even sure if I’d be able to get in. But I’d find a way. I’d find a way because she’d asked me to. And I’d go alone because that’s what Grace wanted.