Excerpt 2, Ch. 14:
Both Rocco and Ricky Montrose turned toward our hiding place.
My pulse pounded in my ears as I held my breath, leaning into Patrick for support.
Through the crack of the door, I could hear Rocco’s gruff hiss. “Did you hear that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” came Ricky’s mumbled reply.
Leaning in, Patrick rolled his eyes at me. “Some spy you’d make. Time for plan B.”
Then, in one deft move, he slid in front of me, pressing his hands to the wall on either side of my head, trapping me between his arms.
My breath hitched in my lungs as I stared into his mesmerizing dark eyes.
Brushing his nose against mine, he whispered, “Time for the makeout cover.”
Then he kissed me, a soft peck at first as we both kept our eyes on the door.
But no one came through.
“We need to tell the Sinclairs about Ricky’s plan,” I murmured against my boyfriend’s soft lips, reveling in his warmth and closeness.
“Or maybe we should find a way to stop him from attending the ball tonight.” Patrick’s mouth brushed against mine with each word.
“Good idea.” I leaned my head against the wall. “I bet Lucinda will see right through his lies if he stands her up for the ball,” I whispered.
“If only we can make sure he stays gone permanently.” He arched back, eyes roaming my face.
I let out a little whimper. He was too far away.
“We’ll think of something.” I grabbed him by the shirt and smashed my lips into his until
I forgot where, or when, we were.
Patrick broke away first, easing the swinging door open a crack. “Looks like they’re leaving. Should we follow them?”
“Probably,” I huffed, pulling back as I smoothed my hands down my silky dress. “But first, how do I look?”
“What?” He arched back, narrowing his eyes at me. “Why does that matter?”
“Because I’m pretty sure in 1924, if I came out of a secret door looking like I just made out with my boyfriend, people would take notice.” I swiped the edges of my lips, looking for any errant lipstick.
“And that would ruin our goal of being invisible. Got it.” He gave me the once over, his mouth tilting up on one side. “Do you have a compact or extra lipstick or something?”
Then his cute little half-smile morphed into a full-on sheepish grin.
“I think I brought the lipstick and a mirror.” I reached into the small bag hanging from my wrist and reapplied my lipstick. “There. All better. Now you just need to wipe your mouth.”
“Fine.” He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his lips. “Now can we go?”
“Yes. Let’s hurry,” I whispered, opening the door.
“I’ll go first. Just in case.” Patrick slipped by me and out the door.
I waited in the serving hallway for a few minutes, then ducked out into the parlor.
Thankfully, almost everyone had vacated the room. Anyone left was heading toward the grand ballroom as a bell rang throughout the house.
I followed the stragglers, slipping in behind Patrick as he skirted the edge of the crowd.
A middle-aged man and woman stood at the back of the room, the woman with a bell in her hand.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the man announced in a loud voice. “Thank you for attending this year’s pre-ball luncheon, organized by my beautiful Charlotte.”
I recognized that name. That must be Mr. and Mrs. Beatrix.
Edward Beatrix went on about the history and tradition of the luncheon, while I scanned the crowd for the Montrose boys.
They were edging toward the back of the room when I spotted them.
“There,” I hissed into Patrick’s ear, pointing low so no one else in the crowd would see.
Just then, they slipped out into the hallway.
Wasting no time, Patrick grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the crowd. For my part, I raised the back of my hand to my forehead, feigning a fainting spell.
Not my finest moment. But hey, you gotta work with what you’re given.
As soon as we reached the long hallway with a dozen doors, we caught sight of two dark heads. Rushing forward, we tried to catch up with them.
But they disappeared again. Just vanished into thin air.
We hustled as fast as we could in our 1920s getup down the long corridor. When we reached the end of the hallway, there was still no sign of them.
“What the heck?” Patrick’s head swung around. “Do they have stones that make them disappear now?”
I glanced around, scratching my chin. “No, I don’t think that’s it. We would’ve seen some kind of light or heard rushing wind if they used a portal.”
He snapped his fingers. “Look at you, being all smart and logical.”
I grinned at him for a second, but it faded fast. “There’s got to be something else we’re missing.”
The Three Societies were known for their hidden tunnels and secret rooms, and the Guardians were no exception.
He scrunched his bushy eyebrows together. “You mean like a secret door or something?”
“Yes.” I nodded at him. “Exactly like that. Who’s the smart one now?”
His sideways half-smile reemerged. “Okay, let’s start tapping the wall and see if we find something.”
I pointed to the right side, towards the back. “They disappeared somewhere around here.” I made a big circle with my arm.
We both started knocking on the walls—softly so we wouldn’t draw attention.
I scanned the dark wood paneling as I knocked, and then my gaze snagged on a strange piece of molding on the chair rail. Every ten feet or so, the waist-high mahogany molding was broken up by an intricately carved square decorative piece. Most were rosettes, but this decorative square was a familiar symbol.
Right there in the molding of the Beatrix’s hallway was a Guardian symbol—a circle with wings above and fire below.
“Here,” I whisper-screamed, pressing the symbol.
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