13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Point of No Return

I wake to the soft brush of velvet against my fingertips, a whisper of a touch that stirs me from the depths of sleep. My eyes flutter open. The dim glow of Daisy’s string lights casting a warm hue over the room. I look down, my sleepy gaze focusing on the crimson bloom resting on the sheet beside me, its petals soft and full, its scent filling the air with a heady fragrance.

A rose. In my bed.

I bolt upright, my heart pounding in my chest. My eyes dart around the room, searching for any sign of an intruder, but the dorm is quiet, undisturbed.

Daisy’s bed is empty, her sheets rumpled, her blanket tossed aside.

She must have stayed with Mary in the bell tower.

I turn back to the rose, my fingers gently brushing against its petals. It’s real, not a dream. But how did it get here? And who could have left it? The answer comes to me in a rush, a wave of heat that sweeps through my body, leaving me breathless.

William. Of course it’s him.

How did he get into the dorm? How did he slip past the locked doors, the creaky floors, the thin walls? And why take such a risk?

My mind races, a whirlwind of fear and hope, worry and desire, all tangled together. I press a hand to my chest, feeling the rapid beat of my heart, the rise and fall of my breath.

He was here. In my room.

While I slept.

The thought sends a shiver down my spine, a thrill of something dark and dangerous. He could have done anything, could have taken anything.

But he didn’t take anything.

Instead, he left a rose.

A symbol of love, of passion, of promises yet to be fulfilled.

Is love a tender thing? It is too rough,

Too rude, too boist’rous, and it pricks like thorn.

I can almost hear the words spoken in his rumbly voice.

I lift the rose to my nose, inhaling its sweet scent. It’s a deep red, the color of blood, of wine, of a rope that used to pull a cathedral bell. It’s a reminder of the last night we spent together, the way he claimed me, body and soul.

It’s also reckless.

If he’s caught, if he’s seen, it could ruin everything.

It could risk his life. And mine too.

We’re playing with fire, dancing on the edge of a blade. One wrong step, one false move, and we could both get cut. I should be angry at his carelessness. Instead I feel exhilarated, electrified, alive.

I feel like I’m standing on the precipice of something wild and wonderful, something terrifying and thrilling.

I feel like I’m finally, truly awake.

The petals are silky soft beneath the swipe of my thumb.

My phone buzzes from where I left it on my desk.

Did he also find a way to message me?

Slipping out of bed, I keep the rose clutched in my hand. I pad across the room, my bare feet silent on the creaky floorboards. I reach for my phone, my heart pounding in my chest.

Text message from an unknown number.

It’s from him. It has to be. Maybe he’s telling me the new location where I can find him. I hesitate, my thumb hovering over the icon, because I want it to be him too much. Even though nothing with him has ever been as simple as sending a text message. He embodies the cloak and dagger aspect of the Society.

Then, with a deep breath, I open the message.

It’s Professor Thorne.

As I read the words on the screen, my breath catches in my throat. It’s a command, a demand, a dare. Most of all, a test.

I stare at the text message, my heart pounding in my chest like a drum.

Be outside your dorm in five minutes. A car will pick you up.

No explanation, no context.

Of course not.

My fingers tighten around the phone, knuckles turning white.

I glance at the rose in my hand, its petals crushed in my anxious fist. William’s face flashes through my mind, his eyes dark with desire, his voice a low growl in my ear.

He’s not here now.

I’m alone, facing this challenge.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. I can’t show fear, can’t show hesitation. The Society is watching. I have to play this smart, have to keep my cool. I have to make her believe I’m on her side.

It’s the only way to get her to trust me so I can ruin her.

It’s also the only way for me to stay alive.

Four minutes left.

I quickly pull on a pair of jeans, a sweater, boots. My hands are steady despite the storm raging inside me. I take one last look at the rose, its red petals a stark contrast to the stark white of my bedsheets.

A promise.

And a reminder of what I’m fighting for.

I step out into the cold, the wind whipping around me, biting at my cheeks. I scan the street, my eyes landing on a massive black SUV parked at the curb.

The windows are tinted, the engine running.

A shiver runs down my spine, a mix of fear and revulsion.

The driver’s side window rolls down, revealing a man in a dark suit, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. He doesn’t speak, just nods at the back seat.

A command.

I hesitate, my heart pounding in my chest.

This is it, the point of no return. Once I get in that car, there’s no going back. I’ll be in Thorne’s grasp, at her mercy. But I have to take this chance, have to play this game. For William, for myself. He wouldn’t want me to get in the car.

Good thing he isn’t here, then.

I take a deep breath, my fingers curling around the door handle. I pull it open, the warmth from inside the car spilling out, enveloping me. I slide into the back seat, the leather smooth and cool against my skin. The door clicks shut behind me, the sound echoing in the silence.

The car pulls away from the curb, the engine a low purr. I watch as the campus fades into the distance, the familiar buildings replaced by unfamiliar streets. The car glides to a halt at the edge of a dense forest, the trees towering and bare, their branches like skeletal fingers clawing at the moonlit sky. The cold air bites at my skin, the silence deafening.

What are we doing here?

I wrap my sweater tighter around me, my breath misting in the chill. The driver points toward a faint path leading into the woods.

I hesitate, my heart pounding.

It’s time for one of the Society’s infamous pranks, then.

I’ve always been a bystander in them. Daisy is the one who was hurt. And then Tyler. Even William almost died, though that was more of a murder attempt than a prank. Now it’s my turn to experience the full force of the Society.

On some level, maybe I deserve this.

Maybe I really will be initiated into the Society after this.

The forest swallows me whole, the canopy above blocking out the moon, casting everything in eerie shadows. The path is narrow, winding, the trees pressing in on either side. I hear whispers in the rustling leaves, imagine faces in the gnarled trunks.

I round a bend and stumble to a halt, my breath catching in my throat.

Before me is a clearing, bathed in the glow of a roaring fire.

And around the fire, three figures, draped in black cloaks, their faces obscured by hoods. They’re chanting, their voices low and haunting, sending a chill down my spine.

“Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.”

It’s the witches’ scene from Macbeth .

But this isn’t a rehearsal. Or even a performance.

This is a ritual, even without magic.

I step back, my instincts screaming at me to run. I’m rooted to the spot, my eyes wide, my heart pounding. The figures don’t acknowledge me, just continue their chant, their voices rising, falling, echoing through the forest.

“Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, Witches’ mummy, maw and gulf.”

They’re adding ingredients to the cauldron, dried leaves with twine, something shriveled that might have been a lizard once. I watch, horrified, fascinated, as they toss in the ingredients. The academic in me has to give them points for accuracy. The rest of me is sickened.

The fire roars higher, the flames licking at the night sky, casting eerie shadows on the trees. The atmosphere is thick, oppressive, the air heavy with the scent of burning herbs, the tang of something metallic.

I can feel the power here, the ambition.

It’s chilling me to the bone.