The door near the end of the corridor looked like an ordinary utility closet but swung open to reveal one of the old servants’ staircases hidden within Cimmeria’s walls. In Victorian times, this would have been how housemaids slipped around the building to perform their chores unseen. Now they were largely forgotten.
A cool draught blew through the open door, making the hairs on Allie’s arms stand on end. After a glance over her shoulder to make sure Rachel was with her, she switched on her torch and headed down.
Four storeys lower, the narrow, winding, stone staircase deposited them in a large, low-ceilinged space. The limestone floors and walls acted like a refrigerator – it was freezing. It was also empty. And it shouldn’t be.
Allie’s hackles rose. Something was wrong.
She swung her torch around the room – the beam illuminating ghostly stone columns bearing the marks of ancient chisels, like scratches made by claws.
A shuffling noise arose behind them, as if the light had awakened something.
Allie whirled, pulling Rachel behind her and dropping into a low, defensive crouch, holding her torch like a truncheon.
‘This is so awesome,’ Zoe whispered, turning on her torch. ‘Best idea ever.’
Allie sagged, the adrenaline flooding out of her. ‘Bloody hell, Zoe. Why didn’t you say something earlier? You scared me to death.’
‘Hi, Allie. I’m here. Right where you told me to be.’ Zoe’s cheerful tone segued swiftly into alarm. ‘Blimey, Rachel, you don’t look so good. Maybe you should sit down.’
Looking back, Allie saw that Rachel’s complexion had gone an odd pale green.
‘Rachel!’
‘Totally fine,’ Rachel insisted, wobbling.
Taking her arm, Allie navigated her towards a dusty crate. ‘Let’s sit you down. You look like you’re going to be sick.’
‘Just… startled.’ Rachel’s voice was faint. ‘Thought we were dead. Nothing major.’
‘Put your head between your knees,’ Zoe ordered.
‘What’s wrong with Rachel?’ Sylvain emerged from a corridor as nothing more than a bright torch beam with a French accent.
‘Zoe scared us.’ Allie glared at the younger girl accusingly. ‘Rachel had a heart attack.’
‘Not a heart attack, exactly,’ Rachel murmured, her voice muffled as her face was still pressed against her knees. ‘But my life did flash before my eyes. I’m really sorry about Robert Peterson.’
They all stared at her.
‘Who’s Robert Peterson?’ Allie and Zoe asked at the same time.
‘I know him,’ Nicole said, ducking through the same doorway Allie and Rachel had just used. ‘He was in my physics class last year. A super student with very thick spectacles.’
‘I kissed him once,’ Rachel said. ‘He slobbered.’
‘Gross,’ Zoe said, looking repulsed.
Nicole just shrugged. ‘And yet you are alive.’
‘Somehow,’ Rachel conceded.
‘Where’s Carter?’ Nicole asked looking around the vault-like space.
‘I’m here.’ They all turned as Carter’s torch appeared through the corridor, gradually brightening as he neared them. Allie pointed her torch at him until they could see the shape of his body in the dark.
‘Then we are all present.’ Nicole’s voice was solemn. ‘Let’s begin.’
FIFTEEN
T
hey gathered in a circle on the dusty floor. The only light came from their torches. It occurred to Allie they looked as if they should be playing a party game – ‘I Never’ or ‘Spin the Bottle’.
But this was a very different kind of game.
Looking around the circle of familiar faces watching her expectantly, she knew they wanted the same things she did. Answers. Resolution. Justice.
She couldn’t give them that.
‘You all know why we’re here.’ Her voice echoed off the cold stone walls. ‘After what happened last night, I –’ With a glance at Nicole she corrected herself. ‘Nicole and I – we don’t think Isabelle and the others are on the right track. We want to figure out who the spy really is. So we’ve mapped out where everyone was when all the stuff happened.’ The others looked at her expectantly. ‘We still don’t know who the spy is. But we think we know who it isn’t.’
She leaned back and the French girl scooted forward. Her dark hair had been pulled back into a sleek ponytail at the nape of her neck; when it caught the torchlight it gleamed like granite.
‘We started from the basis that we do not think the spy is a student,’ Nicole began. ‘Only the most senior Night School students have the kind of access this person has. So… it would have to be one of us.’ She swung her torch slowly around the circle, illuminating their faces one after another. ‘And I don’t think it is.’
‘Why not?’
It was Rachel who spoke, and they all turned to stare at her.
‘What do you mean why not?’ Surprise made Allie’s voice squeak.