“Are you sure this is the right address?” she asked.
Olivia double-checked her phone. “This is it.”
It was a church. Saint Dismas Catholic. As Lauren stepped out of the car, she looked up at the statue looming in front of the white stone building. It depicted a young man’s crucifixion, but it wasn’t Christ. Olivia arrived at Lauren’s side.
“Saint Dismas,” she said, eyeing the statue. “Your aunt has a lovely sense of irony.”
“Who was he?”
“The Penitent Thief,” answered Olivia. “He was crucified next to Christ. He’s the patron saint of prisoners, undertakers, and repentant thieves. Let’s not linger.”
“How did you know all that?” whispered Lauren as they proceeded inside to the vestibule. The church was eerily quiet, and even though no mass was in session, Lauren felt that speaking at a higher volume might somehow disturb whatever divine work might be present.
“I was raised Catholic,” said Olivia. She pushed open the heavy wooden doors into the main room, pausing to dip her index finger in a small bowl of holy water and make the sign of the cross before she entered.
Lauren lingered on the threshold. “Should I—” she asked, gesturing toward the holy water.
“Some say non-Catholics shouldn’t bless themselves with holy water,” said Olivia. She waved Lauren inside. “It’s meant as a reminder of your baptism.”
Lauren crossed into the nave, foregoing the holy water. “It feels disrespectful,” she said, peering toward the altar. The sun filtered in through the stained glass windows, casting colorful shadows across the rows of pews. It reminded Lauren of studying in the library, especially in the the Rapere Wing, the room that held Waverly’s finest manuscripts and rare books. She had never been raised with regard to any religion, but it occurred to her that others might liken the acquisition of higher knowledge to a divine experience.
“At least you’re aware of that.” Olivia led her around the edge of the nave toward a door at the back of the church. “I’m sure Flynn didn’t bat an eye at the thought. Come on. Flynn’s message said we were meeting in the basement.”
Together, they left the main hall and carried on down a set of rickety stairs. As they reached the bottom, the low buzz of many voices met Lauren’s ears and the rest of the Raptors came into view. It was almost funny to see all of them, dressed in their designer shirts and blouses, setting up folding chairs, eating donuts and pouring coffee into styrofoam cups, and mingling like a youth group in the basement storage room. Lauren passed by Logan Wickes and Ashton Brooks, both of whom raised their cups in a mock toast to her. Catherine Flynn, of course, sipped out of a real thermos. When she caught sight of Olivia and Lauren, she cleared her throat.
“Glad you could join us, girls,” she said with a poisonous smile.
Lauren crossed her arms. “Is it not enough to condone murder in your own territory, Aunt Catherine? You had to pick the basement of a church to continue the tradition?”
“Oh, Lauren.” Flynn chuckled, settling herself on an open folding chair and crossing one long leg over the other. “Don’t pretend to believe in God. This just happened to be convenient.”
Lauren opened her mouth to protest, but Olivia caught her hand. “Leave it,” she murmured and guided Lauren to an empty chair.
“So,” said Flynn, her voice echoing through the basement. “If it wasn’t already obvious, we’re here to discuss the bombing of the library. My fellow Raptors, I’m afraid to say that our historic headquarters are no more.”
“Do we know who did it?” asked Brooks. “Was it that Costello bitch?”
“No,” said Flynn. “I did it.”
The Raptors erupted into a frenzied conversation, curious voices overlapping as they discussed this revelation. Lauren turned to Olivia with a questioning gaze, but Olivia only shrugged.
“Why?” boomed Wickes over the chatter.
“When I realized that our great society was at risk of being discovered, I installed extra security measures in the clubhouse,” explained Flynn. She languidly sipped her coffee as the rest of the society squirmed in their chairs, impatient for answers. “Last night, following the distraction of the library’s fire alarm, our headquarters were infiltrated. Previously, I decided that if it came down to it, it would be better to destroy all evidence of our existence rather than give our adversaries any more ammunition. I daresay it worked better than I expected.”
“There were people inside,” Lauren reminded her.
“If you had bothered to volunteer at the scene as I did, my dear, you would know that everyone escaped relatively unharmed,” said Flynn. “No one died. No one sustained life-threatening injuries.”
“What about the clubhouse?” another Raptor asked from the back of the room. “Was it completely destroyed? Are we going to rebuild it?”
“Our records did not survive the fire, but I expect our headquarters will be discovered rather easily whenever construction begins to repair the library,” Flynn said. “Of course, I’ve asked Dean Hastings to do his best to explain away the clubhouse, but I do believe it is prudent for us to find a new home elsewhere.”
“Where?” challenged Lauren.
“Wherever I see fit,” answer Flynn, leveling a sharp glare at her niece. “We are a society built on tradition, but even the most glorious of associations face tribulation. I know that the loss of our headquarters is devastating, especially to those of you who have come to think of it as a second home. Just remember that we are all brothers and sisters. Lean on the shoulders of your friends in these tough times. We will find ourselves a new place to call home.”
“What about the imposters?” asked Brooks. “Were they successful?”
“The passageways caved in after the explosion,” answered Flynn. “Unfortunately, there was no way for them to escape.”
“‘Unfortunately,’” Olivia muttered under her breath. “Yeah, right.”
Lauren bit the inside of her lip, struggling to keep her expression neutral. If Flynn believed that Nicole and Company had perished beneath the library, all the better.
“You may be asking yourselves what becomes of the Black
