Under the Rose (13 page)

WATCH THIS SPACE FOR AN EXCLUSIVE EXPOSÉ WITH AN ACTUAL CURRENT DIGGER!!! APPALLED BY THE SOCIETY’S SECRET CONTROL, THIS MEMBER WOULD LIKE THE WORLD TO KNOW THE SOURCE OF THEIR EVIL POWER!!! EVERYTHING
THEY
DON’T WANT YOU TO KNOW, REVEALED HERE!!!

Frodo blinked at the screen. “This is it? This is what we all got called in here for? Methinks the guy running this site isn’t the only one who’s acting a little unbalanced.”

“Yeah,” said Big Demon. “The phrase I’m searching for is ‘Who cares?’ Isn’t it just going to be the usual Men in Black, woo-woo stuff? Since when do we even care what these lunatics print about us?”

Soze tabbed over to his Phimalarlico mail, then clicked on the group heading for patriarch postings. There were dozens of new messages. “Every patriarch with an e-mail account got an ‘announcement’ from this fellow telling them exactly what they—personally—could expect from this exposé. And judging from some of these e-mails, it was very personal indeed. This knight apparently has a vast amount of information, whoever he—or she—”

“Or she!”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course they think it was one of us. Rose & Grave was fine until they let the chicks in, after all. It could be any disgruntled patriarch.”

“The reason they think it’s one of us,” said Thorndike in an odd, choked voice, “is because we’re the ones with the most access to the tomb. We’re the ones with easy access to the Black Books where the Uncle Tonys describe, in detail, what has happened at every meeting—every C.B.—we’ve ever had.”

“That’s correct,” said Bond. “I remember looking through them with Lil’ Demon when we were researching how to get into Dragon’s Head to steal back that statue.”

It instantly occurred to everyone in the room that Lil’ Demon was very conveniently out of town. Thorndike began to sneeze, and then blew her nose.

“And they think it’s us for another reason,” Soze said. “This guy didn’t send an announcement of the upcoming article to the patriarchs for fun. It was a threat. And alongside a threat comes—”

“Blackmail,” said Lucky. “They think we’re trying to get back at them for not supporting us this year.”

“Makes sense, if you ask me,” said Puck with a shrug. “They’re betraying the society, so why is it still our job to keep their secrets?”

“Right, because an attack like this would make them feel so loving and conciliatory,” I said. “Do they really have such a low opinion of us?”

“Says the woman who takes pleasure in kicking the alums out of the tomb?” asked Juno. “Of course they do, and we haven’t been working very hard to convince them otherwise. The question is, what to do now?”

“Try to stop them, clearly,” said Graverobber. “Didn’t think it was possible to piss off the patriarchs any more than we already have, but clearly I was underestimating how low we could sink. Stealing secrets from the tomb?”

“You’re one to talk, Grave
robber,
” I sneered. “I think a person threatening to quit should go high on the suspect list. If you quit, you have nothing to lose.”

“But do you think he’s a thief?” Jenny asked me with a penetrating glance. “Do you think he could be bought like that?” I was surprised to see her actually taking his side. I was surprised to see her meeting my eyes, to be frank.

“Explain my motivation for selling anything to this nutcase,” he snapped. “Unlike some of you, I hardly have a cash flow problem.”

“Assuming it was one of us.” Soze’s tone immediately mollified the room. He clicked back to the website. “Which, though I’m not ruling it out, I’m not going to take for granted, either. So let’s not start pointing fingers until we have more evidence. Patriarchs come and go from this place all the time. Yes, we have a record of their visits in our guest book, but that doesn’t mean a thing. You don’t know how long the traitor may have been sitting on this information before he decided to go public.”

“Or she,” Graverobber corrected.

Thorndike groaned. “While we play pronoun games, the clock is ticking. What’s the plan?”

Soze looked at Lucky, who piped up. “I’ve checked out the site’s Whois, of course, but it’s a private registration, which I figured it would be. I’ve got a couple more tricks up my sleeve for tracking down this fellow, but frankly, I’m not sure how far it’s going to get us. The problem with a paranoid conspiracy theorist is, well, he’s already paranoid. He’s sitting in a bunker somewhere with an aluminum cap on his head, certain the CIA and the FBI and whatever are trying to track him down. He’s probably got himself pretty well hidden.” She sat down at the computer. “But like I said, I’ll try.”

“Great.” Soze looked around the table. “Anyone else?”

“I’ve got some friends in the radical community,” said Thorndike, then stifled a cough. “It’s a long shot but sometimes they know people who know people. Fringe of all stripes tend to hang together.”

“And they’re fine working with The Man?” Juno mocked. “You retain any street cred whatsoever after joining Rose & Grave?”

“I’m starting my revolution from the inside,” Thorndike said, then sneezed. Lucky glanced at her for a moment, then returned her eyes to the screen. The rest of us took two steps away from Typhoid Thorndike.

“Shouldn’t our focus be on rooting out the traitor in our midst?” Bond asked in clipped tones. “It seems as if that would be much more useful in the long run. Has anyone considered Howard?”

“Howard’s not a Digger,” said Frodo.

“No, but he was a tap. I doubt this website fellow would concern himself over a technicality.”

Soze shook his head. “Howard doesn’t have access to the Black Books, but your point is well taken. We do need to find out who’s behind this. But I’m not sure how. It’s not as if we can fingerprint the books. The patriarchs are sure it’s one of us. I’m thinking it may be a patriarch trying to get us into trouble again, maybe weaken our support base a little more than it already is.” He gestured with his phone. “This particular trustee is already our biggest detractor, so his reaction is no surprise, but he’s not the only patriarch going postal.”

The White House Chief of Staff had been the force behind last year’s conspiracy to deprive all the new taps and the senior club of their internships as punishment for participating in initiating the first female members. And as Poe could attest, he wasn’t afraid of carrying through on his threats. Not only had the senior been denied his White House summer job, he’d been rendered unemployable anywhere on the Hill. It was unheard of for a Secretary of Rose & Grave to be forced to spend his graduate summer gardening.

The next fifteen minutes were devoted to strategy, though all of our theories and plans were hampered somewhat by the realization that someone standing in the room (or one of our missing members) could be responsible for our current plight. As the conversation waned, I started thinking that maybe Soze had a point. If there was a patriarch determined to ruin this club and start afresh with next year’s taps, then causing all this internal strife was no doubt exactly the way to accomplish his goals.

Pretty soon, the room emptied out as each of my fellow knights departed, task in hand. Lucky remained bent over the laptop. I approached gingerly, as one might a wild animal that might suddenly a) bolt, or b) snap your head off. My anger at what I assumed to be her betrayal paled in the face of our current issue—and more, in the wake of what I’d seen outside the coffee shop.

“Lucky—”

“I’m really busy right now,” she snapped. Apparently, we were going with option b.

“Fine. We can talk later.”

“I’d prefer if we didn’t talk at all.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that,” I said, becoming somewhat snappy myself. “And though you can be as difficult as you want out there in the barbarian world, inside we’re supposed to support one another. I just want to help you.”

“Do you even know what a firewall is?” she asked.

“You know what I mean.”

Her fingers stilled on the keyboard and then she slowly turned and faced me. “I don’t care who you think you are, Amy Haskel, or what you think you heard. If you want to pretend it’s different in here, then that’s your problem. I know I’m under the same judgment in here as I am outside. I’m not going to let myself be corrupted just because a bunch of silly men in robes tell me it’s okay. And I’m not going to pretend any of you have
my
best interests at heart just because you took an oath to a minor goddess that doesn’t exist.” And then she turned back to the computer, and commenced typing.

Damn. Why did she join at all if she despised us so much? I took a deep breath. “You know, I never really thought it had anything to do with gods or goddesses. I thought that silly wood engraving was a symbol of this thing we made, all one hundred and seventy-seven years of us.” Okay, that was the definition of graven image, but bear with me. “This isn’t my religion, Lucky, and no one is asking for it to be. No one is asking it of you, either. But when I make a promise to someone, on anything, it’s not about the thing I’m swearing by, it’s about me. I made a promise, and I’m going to keep it. So I
do
have your best interests at heart. I do because I promised I would.” I turned to walk away. “And you owe us two dollars for using my barbarian name.”

I was halfway to the door when she spoke. “Coffee.”

I turned around. “What?”

Lucky sat in a leather armchair three sizes too big for her and stared down at the end of her braid. “I, um…I spilled my coffee earlier. I could really use some caffeine. So if you wanted to, um, make us some coffee, I’ll be done here by the time you get back and we can talk.”

I laughed. “You chew me out and then ask me to fetch you coffee? Luck, if you think that would work on anyone who didn’t really like you and want to help, then you have a very odd grasp of the human spirit.” I headed to the kitchen.

Now, if I were Hale, where would I hide the coffee? I was crouching in front of the pantry, shoving aside bags of potatoes and onions, when I heard footsteps behind me.

“Wow.”

I stood and spun to see George standing in the doorway, jaw hanging open. Damn, where did he come from? I hadn’t heard him on the steps. He came toward me, his eyes glinting behind his glasses. “Turn around, ’boo.”

I furrowed my brow but did as he asked, slowly rotating until I faced him again. This time, his mouth was closed, and his face shone with appreciation.

“When,” he began in a teasing tone, “did you get that lovely bit of ink on your backside?”

My hand flew to the waist of my low-rise jeans. Oh, right. There, framed perfectly by the top of the fuchsia lace thong I’d donned for Brandon’s benefit, sat the tiny hexagon of my Rose & Grave tattoo. “Last spring,” I said. “With the other girls.”

“I love it,” he whispered. “More than the other girls.” And with that enigmatic statement, his hand slipped around my torso and he traced the spot with his thumb. “Why the hell have you been hiding it all fall?” He shifted and arched his head over my shoulder until he could see my back.

“I haven’t been hiding it,” I replied. “You just haven’t been looking in the right places.”

“I concur.” He spread out his palm, flat against my back. “I’ve been woefully ignorant of all your right places.” And there it was, just a tiny touch of pressure, and I listed forward against his chest. He buried his face in my hair. “You look amazing today, ’boo.”

Brandon hadn’t thought so. Oh, irony of ironies that now the clothes I wore for my ex enticed the man responsible for screwing up the relationship in the first place. But that and other thoughts soon fled. How did George manage to do this? He was barely touching me—just the one hand against the small of my back and his jaw against my cheek—but I felt dizzy with anticipation. My hands went out to grasp the shelves, and I felt the unmistakable ridged metal of a coffee can.

Right. Coffee. Oh, hell, who needed coffee when I could just stand here and drink in the pheromones of George Harrison Prescott? My skin burned. If he would just shift slightly, if he would just move the hand he had anchored against my back, if he would just make the slightest gesture at all, I’d be his in a flash.

But he stood there, holding me, breathing deeply, his body almost, but not quite, touching mine.

Your move, Amy.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” I said at last. Because I’m a chicken.

“Those things you said last night at your C.B.,” said Puck, as if I’d never spoken. And now his hand began to move, ever so slowly, down over my jeans-encased butt. “I sat there and listened to you talk about all those boys you were with—”

“All those?”
I said on a breath. “You should talk.”

He chuckled against my skin, and it felt like lightning. “Fine. That moderate number of boys you were with. And you know what I thought?”

Tell me tell me tell me tell me tell me.

I heard boots on the steps.

“Caffeine withdrawal is not a pretty picture, Buga—” Jenny swung into the kitchen and stopped dead.
“Miércoles.”
Her expression flashed with shock, then resentment. “Excuse me.” And she turned and ran.

Crap. Crap crap crappity crap. I dropped my head back against the shelf as George pulled away from me. “I wish she hadn’t seen that.”

“Why? Might do her some good.”

I bit my lip. “No, you don’t get it. Earlier today I saw her arguing with her boyfriend.”

Puck raised an eyebrow. “Luck’s got a boyfriend? That’s impressive.”

“Not if you saw the boyfriend. He’s a slimeball. He was being a total jerk to her and I’d just broken down that little shell of hers and convinced her to let me talk to her about it when you…”

“When I what?” Puck asked. “She acts like I did something to her personally. Always has.”

“She doesn’t approve of you.”

“So? I don’t approve of her, but I’ve never been mean.” His jaw was doing that tight thing again and I wanted to kiss away the tension. “Whatever. I am who I am, and she’s not the first person who has decided to judge me for it. There are plenty of people who hate me just for being a Prescott. My name is on a building down the street, and there’s no way to escape that. People like Lucky will decide I’m evil for breathing their air, and there’s no way to escape that, either.”