“No.” Dr. Thompson smiled as he shook his head. “His mother and I were colleagues. We were never together. We co-parent pretty well though. He’s in Ireland at the moment finishing up his senior year. He goes to an international school in the city that allows those opportunities.”
“Wow.”
“Stella did the same. She chose Spain. Barcelona.”
“I’ve never even left the state.” I laughed lightly.
“You will.” He glanced over at me as he slowed down the car. “Once this is over, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to travel.”
We both looked at the iron gates ahead of us. There was an S written on both sides of it. Beyond the gates, there were two long rows of trees that led the path to whatever lay ahead.
“This is like Bruce Wayne’s house,” I said.
“Please be careful, Eva. Report anything you hear.” He handed me a brand-new cell phone, still in the box. “I’m going out of town for a conference, but I’m one phone call away. If you ever feel like you’re in danger, Detective Barry’s number is also saved there for you.”
I took the phone and finished shoving all of my belongings into Stella’s MCM backpack. I took a deep breath as the gates opened before us and Dr. Thompson began to drive his car toward the house, my lungs stalling as I took in the magnitude of it.
The Manor wasn’t a house. It was a castle. It must have had at least twenty bedrooms and I couldn’t begin to imagine how many acres accompanied it. Karen had a friend who had a big house and growing up it was my favorite place to go. I’d spend the day there sometimes running around in their yard and splashing in their pool. Their house looked miniature in comparison to this. It wasn’t a far-fetched idea that Stella could have gotten lost in there.
The question was, would I? Would I be able to find her and save myself at the same time? I unlocked the car and stepped out, walking to the trunk upon hearing it click and open. After getting the suitcase out, I waved at Dr. Thompson and walked up to the door. Even those were massive, larger than life, as I stood before them. They were iron, just like the gates, and just like the gates, their maker had bent the iron and willed it to intertwine and create a masterpiece. There was a gold S scripted in the middle of each of them. I took a deep breath and rang the doorbell and looked back as I heard a car retreating. Dr. Thompson was driving away, slowly, but still, driving away. I rang the bell again, then tried the handle, which was locked. I wasn’t sure how much time had gone by before I remembered the key in my backpack. Surely, I wouldn’t have a key to this place though. I’d woken up with that key in my own backpack, not Stella’s, but as I reached into her backpack, which still smelled of new leather, I found two keychains. I brought them out and looked at them. They had the same S on them and looked like the same key. My hands shook.
With my heart lodged in my throat, I brought one of the keys to the lock and slid it in. It fit perfectly, but I knew from experience sometimes that didn’t mean much. Once, Karen had tossed me out of the house and changed the locks on me. When I returned home, the key fit the lock, but wouldn’t turn. After pounding and calling and threatening to call the cops, I ended up having to sneak into my bedroom that night. It was that memory that made me pause before turning the key, and the thought that, if it didn’t turn and unlock, I wasn’t sure what I would do. Would I run home with my tail between my legs and pretend none of this happened? Would I go to my therapist with this? I didn’t want to. That was probably what happened last night. It was probably how I ended up sleeping at The Institute in the first place. I shuddered. The Manor was where a secret society resided and even though I didn’t know much about the societies, I knew they handpicked wealthy students with connections to join. There was no way facing a bunch of rich kids would be worse than dealing with the staff at The Institute.
On that thought, I turned the key.
Chapter Three
Anticipation rolled through me as I stepped into the dark house and shut the door quietly behind me, instantly feeling like I’d been transported to another century, a foreign place unlike anything I’d ever known. The walls on either side of me were covered in some kind of wallpaper and wood panel. On every panel was a sconce holding a flickering candle. On every piece of wallpaper, a portrait. Classical music was playing loudly, seemingly making the candles flicker more with each touch of the piano and stroke of the violin. I began to walk quietly, slowly, taking in every portrait, which had men in military suits, archbishops or cardinals or whoever wore those fancy hats, doctors in their white lab coats, all with eyes that seemed to move as I moved past them. All watching, waiting, judging. I swallowed my nerves and moved forward, finding the place oddly familiar, wondering if I’d been here before, but no, it was impossible. I may not remember what happened to me these last two days, but that didn’t mean I had no memory prior and I knew I hadn’t been here.