A murmur of voices penetrated the art room from the other side of its door, and I could hear the faint shuffle of footfalls down the hallway.
“There are more people here?” I asked, wondering once again how the Black Raptor Society managed to convene underground without anyone else noticing.
“We called a meeting to discuss what to do with you,” said Flynn.
My gaze flickered to the freezer chest. “Why didn’t you just off me like you did O’Connor?”
Orson drew up another chair and straddled it. “Miss Costello,” he said in a low, reassuring voice. “I can assure you that what happened to George O’Connor was an accident. The Black Raptor Society is not made of murderers.”
“And yet you still have a body hidden somewhere in your secret clubhouse.”
“We moved the body, actually,” piped in Donovan.
“Shut up, halfwit,” snapped Lauren. “She already knows too much.”
“Better yet, Bacchus,” added Flynn as she examined her polished fingernails for apparent discrepancies, “kindly leave us to it. After all, had you responded to my call sooner and went after Miss Costello the night she discovered our little secret, we wouldn’t be here at all, would we?”
“I—”
“The Morrigan said out,” said Orson, without looking at Donovan.
With a childish groan, Donovan huffed and got up to leave. As he opened the door, a shaft of golden light spilled in from the hallway, and the bustle of voices from the other rooms grew momentarily. Before Donovan pulled the door shut again, he popped his head back in to address Lauren. “This isn’t over, Salander. I’m coming back for my council seat.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” said Lauren with a sly smile.
The door slammed shut, leaving me alone with Lauren, Flynn, and Orson. “What happens now?” I questioned warily.
“I’m glad you asked, Miss Costello,” said Orson as he rested his forearms on the chair back in front of him. “As I said before, the Raptors have debated this matter, and we’ve decided to offer you two options.”
“How considerate of you.”
“Quite,” said Flynn. She placed a hand on Orson’s shoulder. “Let me reiterate what my brother has already mentioned.”
My jaw slackened at this revelation. “Your brother?”
“Did you not notice the family resemblance?” asked Flynn, sweeping her dark hair over one shoulder. “Orson and I have been the heart of the Black Raptor Society for quite some time now. We shaped the Raptors into what they are now while we were still in school at Waverly. In fact, I’m shocked that you didn’t figure it out sooner. You never came across my maiden name in any of your pathetic, abortive research?”
I clenched my teeth. I’d focused so closely on Orson and the other men of the Lockwood family that I’d dismissed any female members, other than Lauren, completely.
“In any case,” continued Flynn, though she wore a pleased simper at my incompetent research abilities, “we are not murderers. It’s too unsavory a deed, and to be quite honest, it was a blight on our society’s reputation. The Raptors only meant to frighten George O’Connor. It went too far.”
My hands trembled as Flynn spoke, and I gripped the armrests to stop them from shaking. “Preach your excuses all you want,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “You still killed someone. And even if you hadn’t, how many reputations have you destroyed for your own benefit? I mean, don’t you people adhere to a code of ethics at all?”
“An ambiguous one, to be sure,” admitted Lauren. Orson nodded in approval as she continued. “One must accept that in order to find success in this world, others must fail. Surely, you understand that, Nicole?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Agreed,” said Orson to my surprise. “It’s come to my knowledge that you also discovered our contacts at the police station.”
I swallowed hard, unwilling to give away anything that might jeopardize Wes’s job. “I only guessed that you had members there.”
“One or two.”
“Whitehall, right? And Officer Wilson?”
“Ah, yes, Daryl!” said Orson affectionately. “He always liked you, you know. He was quite upset when that boyfriend of yours started poking his nose around. Daryl was never a man of conflict.”
I remained quiet at the mention of Wes, trying to keep my face impassive.
“Speaking of your boyfriend,” Orson continued. He snapped his fingers, and Lauren handed him a manila file folder. He took a photo from it and turned it around so that I could see it. “Weston McAllen. This is him, right?”
It was Wes’s profile picture from the police academy. I did my best to maintain a straight face, but then Orson produced another photo, one of both me and Wes, that someone—Lauren most likely—had downloaded from the private pictures on my computer.
“Beautiful couple,” remarked Orson. He held the photo up for Flynn to see. “Don’t you think?”
My face burned as Flynn peered at the picture. “A little too crass for my taste, my dear.”
“Then shove it up your ass,” I snapped before I could help myself.
“Tsk, tsk. Bottle it up, Miss Costello,” Orson said, closing the file folder and handing it back to Lauren. “My point is this: we know that you’ve been keeping Mr. McAllen in the loop on our affairs. I would assume you’ve shared your inner knowledge of BRS with him, as women are so prone to doing with their significant others.”
Out of Orson’s line of sight, Lauren rolled her eyes. At least she didn’t buy into every aspect of the Raptors’ brotherhood bullshit.
“I barely told Wes anything,” I lied. With any luck, BRS would leave him out of this. “I didn’t want him to get in trouble with the force.”
“Sure,” said Orson, his tone dripping with patronage. “Whatever the case, we have members standing by outside your apartment. Just in case.”
“Just in case of what?”
“Should you make any trouble,” Flynn began, “our members will take your boyfriend into custody as well. You do not want that to happen, Miss Costello. It will only end poorly.”
They had to be bluffing. After all, why would Flynn and Lockwood try to convince me that O’Connor’s death was an
