Diana Peterfreund - Under the Rose

“Who knows?” said Odile. “The blueprints are missing from our archives.”

Everyone turned to her. “What?”

She shrugged. “They’re listed in the card catalog, which, by the way, is a total disgrace, but they aren’t on the shelves. I wanted to use them back when we were planning the Straggler Initiation, but I couldn’t find them.”

Jenny lifted her hands. “I swear that wasn’t me. I drew my own floor plan.”

Time to change the subject. “What do you want to bet they went missing right around the time the Elysians came up with this idea?” I said.

“But how is it possible that none of our big sibs bothered to tell us about some other room in the tomb?” Greg asked.

“Maybe they didn’t know about it,” I said. Oh, Amy, how could you be so stupid? “Maybe the only big sib who knew was someone very well versed in Digger history. Someone on the side of the Elysians.”

Someone like Poe. Man, I almost had him in that alcove after we’d visited Edison College. He was obviously trying to figure out if I knew anything about Elysion. He’d practically told me himself. But, like always, I’d resorted to trading snark rather than actually listening.

I picked up one of the earliest e-mails from “Nestor.” I will give the Elysion boys this: They sure knew how to pick their names. I’d read Homer. Nestor was the wise old warrior who’d advised all the young heroes in The Iliad.

From: Nestor-X1@phimalarlico.org

To: Elysion-X1@phimalarlico.org

Subject: Re: next time

I think the complaints are unfounded. Naturally, our space does not have the grandeur of the Inner Temple, but it is far better suited to our purposes. Recall the temples of Mithras and other spartan assemblages. We’re warriors. What do we need of luxury? Besides, if you wish to split hairs, our entrance beats the crap out of theirs, and shares its history with the most glorious artifact in the Inner Temple.

Yours under the rose,

Nestor

Their entrance? But if everything in the tomb was built at the same time, why would an entrance have anything to do with the antiques we kept in the Inner Temple? And what “artifact” was he talking about anyway? The oil paintings? The engraving of Persephone? The elaborately carved throne?

The only thing I’d ever seen that looked like the throne was the carved wood frame on the diamond-dust mirror hanging in the basement. I faced the group. “Clarissa, you said someone had left the light on in the kitchen?”

“Yes. So what?”

“I think they’re meeting in the basement.”

“Where in the basement?”

“Behind the mirror.”

En masse, the nine of us headed over to the tomb on High Street. Discretion was a thing of the past. During the trip, I berated myself for ignoring all the signs. Poe and George, appearing in the kitchen out of nowhere. Poe, grilling me for what else I’d found out in Jenny’s room. George, making excuses for times he’d bailed on me and hiding secrets on his computer. I’d been sure it was about another girl. Clever, clever—any devious action on his part surely related to sexual, not societal, betrayal.

I was so clueless.

Josh and Harun threw open the tomb door and we strode in, completely mindless of who might have the street staked out. We took the stairs down to the basement and crowded into the narrow hall—nine little Diggers, staring up at the tall, mildly warped mirror.

Soze slipped his fingers around the edge of the frame and tugged, but the mirror didn’t move. “It’s not this side,” he whispered. He tried the other. “Still nothing.”

“Maybe there’s a catch,” Thorndike said. She ran her hands up and down the frame. “I can’t feel anything, either.” She dusted her hands off on her cargo pants. “Hate to say it, Bugaboo, but I think you got it wrong.”

“Let’s search the rest of the tomb,” said Juno. “They have to be here someplace.”

“No,” said Lucky. “I think she’s right. Look.”

She backed up a few steps and pointed at the mirror. The frame’s intricate carvings detailed the rape and imprisonment of Persephone, her seduction-by-pomegranate, and her eventual subscription into the royal family of the underworld. And there, at the top, sat a large carved rose.

Lucky looked at me and smiled. “Under the rose.” And then she leaned forward and pressed on the glass.

It swung open like a door, revealing a set of stairs.

“Hurry,” said Thorndike. “They had to have heard that.”

We rushed down the stairs, only to hit a set of double doors at the bottom. Thorndike flung them open, revealing a small, barrel-shaped room beyond. Old-fashioned hurricane lanterns illuminated seven figures in long red robes around a long table. They leapt to their feet, and I saw shock and dismay on every one of their faces. Most of them bolted away from us, to the far end of the room, where there was another door.

“Follow them!” I heard Thorndike shout, as chaos erupted in the corridor.

But I didn’t think I had the energy to run. I stood there watching as one of the two remaining figures pushed back his hood, to reveal Poe. The other, still seated, leaned forward in his seat, rested his chin on his hand, and sighed. “Sorry, ’boo,” George said.

My eyes began to burn. Okay, I was wrong. I turned and ran.

I hereby confess:

There are days when I think

it’s not worth the trouble.

I ran as if I hadn’t been awake for more than twenty-four hours. I ran as if the burn in my legs would somehow erase the need or the ability to cry. (It didn’t.) I ran as if Cerberus himself were chasing me. But it wasn’t a three-headed hound of hell who caught up moments after I slammed the Prescott gate behind me. And it wasn’t George, either.

“Amy, wait!”

I stopped. I clenched teeth and fists. And then, slowly, I turned.

Poe put his hands on the bars. “Open the gate.”

“There’s a reason,” I began in a choking voice, “they don’t let graduates keep their proximity cards. It’s because we don’t want you in our lives anymore!”

“Amy, I want to talk to you about this. Please, can’t you just calm down?”

“You lied to me! You betrayed us—again!”

“ I lied to you ?” His voice rose a few decibels. “Who was the one who pulled that act in New York today? You knew where Jenny was, and instead of telling me, after everything I did to help, you conned me!”

Yeah, and I’d felt bad about it at the time. But clearly it had been misplaced emotion. I stepped closer to the gate. “Jenny pleaded with me not to tell you. And she was right. You were working against us! What a lucky guess on my part, huh?”

“No, Amy! That’s not how it was.”

“Tell that to the goons the patriarchs sent to break into her apartment.”

He slammed his hands against the bars. “I was trying to help. I was worried about her. Believe me or don’t, I don’t care.”

“No. You don’t,” I hissed, getting even closer. I wrapped my hands around the bars as well and peered at him through them. “I was such a fool. This whole time, I’ve been telling myself that no matter what I thought of you personally, I could trust you to do what was best for the society. I was sure you of all people believed Rose & Grave came first.” I leaned in, until we were practically nose to nose. “You’re so good at making me look like an idiot, James. All along, you were trying to ruin us.”