The Lies That Bind (20 page)

After our Conventus revelation, I went home and tried to call Taylor more than was socially acceptable, even for me. I sent her three personal messages on Amicus, which remained unanswered when I checked first thing the next morning. I waited impatiently for the clock to strike nine so I could call Seth and get him to drive me over to her house. Our knocking and ringing were ignored, so we decided to keep an eye on her house. I mean, she’d have to leave sometime.

Six painfully slow drive-bys later, we saw a neighbor peek her head out behind a curtain, ear to phone, presumably calling the cops and forcing Seth to peel away in the van. It. Was. Awesome. But Taylor was still MIA.

This could mean one of two things:

1. Taylor had been kidnapped right along with her BFF.

2. She was royally pissed because she found out about my fauxmance with Bradley.

I knew definitively that my relationship with Liam could not withstand an additional kidnapping—one could actually argue that we weren’t surviving the first. Liam still wouldn’t return any of my phone calls or personal messages, no matter how I tried to spin my Bradley tale. And all signs were pointing to Taylor following suit.

During our seventh drive-by, we saw a flash of T in the dining-room window, and I was almost positive she wasn’t being held hostage in her own house. Plus, she’d logged into Amicus five times in the past twenty-four hours. I figured the Brothers would have forbidden that, so I officially removed kidnapping from my list of reasons Taylor was MIA.

Based on the power of deductive reasoning, it seemed pretty clear that Taylor was avoiding me. It was like Bradley Farrow had given me a raging case of social leprosy.

Everyone was avoiding me. Well, except at the Allens’ house. They were always happy to see me, and there was no better place for Seth and me to hide after Taylor’s neighbor presumably filed a restraining order against us.

“Kate, sweetheart, would you like another muffin?” Mrs. Allen stood in an apron, oven mitts on each hand, a genuine smile plastered across her face. Looking at Mrs. Allen was like peering through a window into 1952. Although it wasn’t exactly the future I’d choose for myself, I had to hand it to Mrs. A. —she was a bitchin’ housewife.

“No, thank you,” I said, bringing a napkin to my lips to wipe away blueberry remnants. Between the two of us, we’d already consumed an entire pan full, and Seth didn’t appear to be stopping any time soon. His mom just kept mixing. At the Allen house, you could count on many constants—company, warm baked goods, organic milk, and organized meals, to name a few.

“I just have to say, you two, I’m just thrilled you’re spending so much time together.” Mrs. Allen bent down to retrieve a pan from the oven. I wasn’t sure what she was implying, but the smell of warm blueberry muffins was so intoxicating that I might have agreed to just about anything. “You just look so cute together.”

Hmm. Maybe not quite
that
.

Seth smiled widely, a blueberry covering one of his front teeth. “I knew Kate would eventually come around.” He winked at me, and even though the gesture was completely full of cheese, I couldn’t help but crack up. I shook my head and rested it on my arms. I had to admit it was nice to have a distraction.

But then an All-School message buzzed through on Amicus, and I was brought back to reality so quickly that I swear I felt whiplash.

Don’t forget…Concilium is holding its annual bake sale this afternoon during the varsity basketball game against Reserve. Come hungry and support PB!

I rubbed my neck and eyed the fresh pan of Mrs. Allen’s famous muffins. In all the drama of the last few days, I’d completely forgotten about the bake sale everyone had been droning on about during the Concilium meetings I was still forced to attend. Not only was I supposed to have made something, but I was also supposed to show up.

“Um…Mrs. Allen?”

Mrs. Allen stopped humming and turned the faucet off, placing a freshly washed spatula on the drying rack. “Yes, honey?”

“Is there any way I can borrow some of those muffins for the bake sale today? I completely forgot I was supposed to make something, and I’m sure they will raise a lot of money for Concilium.”

Mrs. Allen looked like she was about to cry. She placed her hand over her heart and cocked her head, shaking it slowly back and forth. “Oh, Kate, there is nothing I’d like more.” She batted Seth’s hand away from the plate without even looking and rushed to cover them with foil.

The one silver lining of having to participate in Concilium was that it’d force Taylor out of hiding.

There was no avoiding me now.

Unfortunately, when we walked into the rotunda in the late afternoon, Seth decked out in PB gear—a hat and a sweatshirt with a crisp PB tee beneath—and I approached the long Concilium fund-raising table with my tightly wrapped plate of blueberry muffins in hand, Taylor was nowhere to be found.

“Didn’t you say she’d be here?” Seth whispered, his gleaming white sneakers squeaking against the floor.

“Yeah…this isn’t good.” All sorts of terrible thoughts raced through my head. Maybe she really was missing like Bethany. Then what? If Taylor, president of Concilium, was absent from a sponsored event, it had to be bad. I put my muffins down with the rest of the treats and began asking around. They hadn’t seen her. They hadn’t heard a word, didn’t know where she could be.

Meanwhile the Pemberly Brown Lions were kicking some serious butt on the basketball court. Cheers erupted from the gymnasium, and I listened as the cheerleaders performed another routine, celebrating an additional three points.

“I’ll go check the bleachers.” Seth adjusted his hat proudly and disappeared into the crowd. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that one piece of PB paraphernalia would have been more than enough, too much even. It was kind of an unspoken rule, like having your parents drop you off a block away from any given social event or never buying a T-shirt at a concert and wearing it to the actual show. Ah, well, at least he’d be easy to spot.

And then Ben Montrose rolled in, a desperate-looking first-year girl attached to each overly tanned arm. He wore a tight turquoise shirt with the collar popped as though he had been plucked straight from some seedy Jersey beach bar, as opposed to attending a January basketball game in northeastern Ohio. Although I had to hand it to him. Ever since our little rendezvous in the tunnels beneath Pemberly Brown, he’d inadvertently taken it down a notch. Sure, he still fake-n-baked, name-dropped, and wore ridiculously bright colors in the dead of winter, but I hadn’t seen his abs in over a week, and we’d been spared his tired break-dancing routine altogether. Apparently, being duped underground had humbled our good friend.

He tossed a dude-nod in my direction and ushered his lady friends into the crowded gymnasium just as a buzzer sounded. And out came Maddie. She spotted me, looked away, looked back at me, looked at the ground, offered a hesitant smile, and finally approached the Concilium table.

“This all looks really good,” she offered meekly.

“Oh…um…thanks. Do you want anything?” I fumbled with a few plates, adjusting their position to occupy my hands.

She flushed. “I didn’t bring any money.”

I immediately regretted offering. Stupid. She was a recovering anorexic, and I’m sure she felt like everyone was watching her like a hawk every time she approached anything edible. She definitely didn’t need to feel judged by her former best friend.

Maddie looked down at her shoes, opened and closed her mouth a few times as though she were about to speak, and shifted her weight from leg to leg. It was clear she needed to say something, something potentially awkward or serious, which made my stomach clench. A confrontation with Maddie was pretty much the last thing I wanted to involve myself in right now.

“Um…” I began, instantly cut off as Maddie spoke at the same time.

“You…need to be careful.” We both turned bright red, and I felt like we were in a hallway doing that terrible dance when one person goes right and you go right and then the other person goes left and you go left. Brutal. “I mean…I don’t know what’s going on with Taylor, but I’ve seen you guys together and I just want you to be careful.”

My stomach twisted further. I didn’t know quite how to say it, but Maddie was sort of the last person I was going to take advice from regarding Taylor Wright.

“Okay,” I managed.

“I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

An image of Bethany bound and gagged flashed in my head. And then I thought of Taylor, broken and lost without her best friend. No one believed her. She’d lost her voice. Maddie was so concerned about me getting hurt by Taylor that she couldn’t see that Taylor was already the one hurting.

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to prevent,” I said, knowing on some level it was way too late for that. My phone buzzed in my pocket, jolting me away from the conversation. I appreciated the diversion. “Sorry,” I mumbled, looking down at the screen.

Taylor.

I had to hand it to her, the girl had great timing. A breath I hadn’t realized I was holding slipped through my lips. I turned away from Maddie and knew without a shadow of a doubt that when I turned back around, she’d be gone. But like with everything else, that was a risk I was willing to take.

I answered without bothering to say hello. “We need to talk.” I wasn’t really in the mood for pleasantries.

For a second there was nothing but the sound of Taylor gasping for breath, and regret rained down over me. What if she really was in trouble and not just avoiding me? What if that was the last thing I ever said to Taylor Wright…ever?

“Taylor? Hello?”

“I saw her.” Her voice cracked, and I realized the gasping sound was sobbing. “They sent me a new picture. And everyone is talking about you and Bradley, and I have no idea if I can even trust you anymore. But I need to find her now, Kate. Before they…” A choking sound came over the phone.

“Where are you?”

“At school.”

I looked around, confused. “Where? I’m in the rotunda.”

I heard a smack and pictured Taylor cupping her hand over her mouth. If she was anything like me, she hadn’t stopped looking at the picture since it’d come in. She was obsessing over it. Zooming in on it. Staring.

“Just stay where you are. I’m on my way.” I turned back around, and as predicted, Maddie had vanished. But in her place was Seth in all his school-spirited glory. “She’s not in there,” he said, helping himself to a chocolate-chip cookie. I didn’t even have time to shoot him a look.

“We’ve gotta go.”

Seth nodded his head, shoved the rest of the cookie in his mouth, and turned on his toe. No questions. No judgment. No nothing. Just pure, genuine support. I had to take a second because, if I really thought about it—and it was too late for that since my brain was going a mile a minute—I would cry. Liam wasn’t even taking my phone calls; Taylor needed my help but refused to trust anyone outside of the Sisterhood; and Bradley was clearly manipulating me. But Seth. Seth was on board without even batting a ginger eyelash.

I rushed after him, touching his shoulder to stop him as we walked the hall.

“Thank you.” My voice was thick, and I knew if I kept talking, the tears would come.

Seth appeared confused at first but then smiled wide.

“Seriously. Your friendship…” My voice cracked again and I stopped short.

Before I could even attempt to finish, a pair of wet, chocolate-sweet lips were on mine. I jerked my head back and gave him my if-you-kiss-me-again-I’m-going-to-castrate-you-before-you-actually-complete-puberty look. Yeah, I’ve got a patent pending on that bad boy.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

This time it was me who leaned over and kissed him. On the cheek. The truth was, I could never blame Seth for anything.

Seth made a strange squeaking sound and smiled so big that I thought his face might break into a million little pieces. I felt a surge of something I couldn’t quite put my finger on, but I hoped it’d be enough to take care of everything once and for all. As much as I loved my blueberry muffins with a heaping side of drama and my friendships with a layer of deceit, I was ready for some milk and honesty.

We roamed the halls of Pemberly Brown in search of Taylor. I had absolutely no idea where I’d find her. In the headmaster’s office? Crouched with a knife in one of the darkened classrooms and ready to pounce? Shaking near the front entrance in some sort of comatose state?

But I should have known. After all, if it had been me, I’d have camped out in front of Grace’s locker too. As soon as I saw Taylor, her back resting against Bethany’s locker, her bedazzled phone glowing beside her, I forgot how mad I was at her for not telling me about Conventus. In that moment this had nothing to do with feuding secret societies or even revenge. This was about a missing girl and the friend who loved her.

Seth hung back respectfully while I approached and gently took the phone from Taylor’s vise-like grip. The picture of Bethany flashed on the screen.

And it was bad.

Her hair was matted down by something dark, I’m assuming blood or dirt or both, and there were dark circles under her eyes. A black cloth had been tied around her mouth like a gag, and she had dried blood crusted across her face. I couldn’t see her arms, but it looked like they were bound behind her back. Her once lush cheeks looked sunken from lack of food and water, and her eyes screamed at us to save her. All at once I was pulled back in front of that burning chapel with the knowledge that my best friend was trapped inside and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

I wondered if Grace’s eyes had looked like that when the smoke billowed around her, when she realized there was no way out.

Society politics aside, Bethany needed us. And according to the accompanying text,
Vote
For
or
die
, we didn’t have a lot of time.

I used my two fingers to zoom into the photo, waiting as the pixels reconfigured. The background was slightly blurry and looked mainly like a darkened room, no identifying photos or people to indicate where Bethany was hidden. But as I zoomed further and further, shapes began to take form behind her. An exceptionally blurry horse, part of a duck, a tree. It didn’t take long for me to place where I’d seen them. It was the gaudy wallpaper from the club.

“Let’s go,” I said, holding my hand out to Taylor. “I know it’s hard to remember, Taylor, but this isn’t over yet.”

Taylor continued to rock back and forth. “I saw you with him. At the club,” she said, picking at one of her nails. I noticed a chip then and it seemed so out of place, so unlike Taylor. “Is that over?”

“Don’t you get it? I was there trying to get information about Bethany. It’s not what you think, and you can believe whatever you want to believe, but I’m going to go try to find her. I haven’t given up yet, Taylor, and neither should you.” She met my eyes, brown versus blue, a standoff, and for a second I didn’t think she’d relent. But then she blinked.

Taylor finally pushed up from the hardwood floor and used a hand to steady herself against the locker. Seth shuffled awkwardly in an attempt to remind us of his presence, and I shot him a look that roughly translated into “Stop staring at her and
do
something
. Now.” For the second time tonight, he proved he was fluent in the complex language of Kate’s angry looks, because moments later he was at Taylor’s side, helping me guide her to his mom’s van.

Taylor continued to stare at her phone, her eyes empty and cold. I was pretty sure she was in shock. Meanwhile I leaned forward, straining against the seat belt. This was it. Our moment. I knew without a doubt that the picture had been taken at the club, and if Bethany was still there, we could end this. Tonight.

“Taylor, since you’re a club member, no one will find it weird for you to be there.” Seth tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to an old-school Celine Dion song while we waited for the light to turn green. “But, Kate, we’ll have to work on blending.”

This coming from the kid with flaming red hair to the girl with bright blue.

Taylor completely ignored him. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice the background first.” The sound of her voice startled me. “This was taken in the billiard room. Those chairs look like the ones that are in there.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that Bethany probably wasn’t gagged and bound in plain sight. Whoever had snapped the pic was probably smart enough to hide her away within the club or, more likely, at an entirely different location.

Seth parked the car, and the three of us ran into the club and up the huge, winding staircase in the center hall. Luckily it was getting late and a light snow had begun to fall, so the place had pretty much cleared out.

Including the billiard room. It was completely empty. I felt the hope wheeze out of my chest in a short whoosh. I should have known better, but I couldn’t help the disappointment. We were so close. Smoke still hung in the air and trailed from the butt of a cigar someone hadn’t stubbed out all the way. A few glasses littered the tables, ice cubes melting into brown liquor. Chairs identical to the one in Bethany’s picture dotted the room. The familiar hunting landscape adorned the walls, slightly faded and tattered looking. I wondered how long ago they’d left, whether anyone had seen them take the picture, and if a girl with cloth covering her mouth drew any red flags for members or employees.

But none of that really mattered, because Bethany was gone. Again.

Taylor slumped into a chair while I searched the ground, on tables, in closets, behind the bar for anything that might lead us back to Bethany. Seth snacked on trail mix and offered a handful to Taylor, who shot him the most disgusted look I’d ever seen one human give another.

And then I saw it. It was almost like divine intervention, as though the clue had been put exactly in this place for me to find.

The map was hand drawn, crumpled after being folded and refolded, shoved into pocket after pocket. It featured the main building and had stars marking stairways at seemingly random locations—the boys’ bathroom, the showers in the gym locker room, the headmaster’s office, a custodial closet, a locker. But contrary to the map of Pemberly Brown we’d uncovered months earlier, these stairs did not lead down.

They led up. And they began exactly at Bethany’s locker.