Page 63 of Salem’s Rise

There is no signature. No explanation. No indication of what waits below the cemetery or what I should expect.

At eleven twenty, I drive myself north through steady rain until I arrive at the cemetery. The trees have already been stripped nearly bare by the upcoming winter season. Weathered gravestones rise unevenly from the wet ground, some tilted so far, they appear to be sinking back into the earth. Near the rear of the cemetery is one lone mausoleum that looms above the graves, pointing north, its roof black. Two figures in dark robes wait beside the open iron door. Neither asks my name as they gesture toward the stairs descending inside.

Of course there are stairs beneath the cemetery.

Once inside, I count nineteen other contestants gathered along the walls, most in clusters, talking with one another. Some are students I’ve seen around campus. Some are older, perhaps in their late twenties or even thirties. A few are younger. I recognize the pretty blonde junior from my first dinner in the Commons. Nicole, I think. She looks surprisingly relaxed given the situation, as if she’s been trained to conceal fear for years.

Wren. Lena. Jonah. Georgina. Van. Rowan. Silas. They’re all here too.

But no Josh.

The disappointment is so strong, I have to look away before anyone notices the moisture gathering in the corner of my eyes. I knew it was a long shot, but still… I had hoped.

“Jack.” Wren approaches, Lena and Jonah following close behind. None of them looks rested. “There you are,” she says, relief crossing her face. “I was worried you wouldn’t show.”

“I didn’t realize I had a choice,” I say.

“You’ve been avoiding us,” Lena says, almost accusatory. “Are you doing okay?”

The question is so ridiculous that I nearly laugh.

“Yeah, I’m peachy keen,” I say. “All my friends have been lying to me, and I’ve been drafted into a secret society death match. Couldn’t be better.”

“I’m sorry,” Wren says. “We wanted to tell you, but secrecy isn’t optional in the Veil. You’ve now seen how they treat those who break the rules.”

I wince, remembering the man brutally executed in the chamber on Veil Night.

“I don’t understand. Why are you all doing this?” I ask. “No offense, but none of you seem like the aspiring-cult-leader type.”

My friends are far more likely to argue over where to get the best pumpkin donuts in Salem’s Fall than who should rule the Veil.

Well, except for maybe Lena.

She’s definitely got a competitive streak.

“I don’t want to.” Wren glances toward the other contestants before lowering her voice. “Jonah and I don’t have a choice. Our parents invoked our claims years ago. They think participating will restore our family’s standing.”

Jonah leans one shoulder against the stone wall. “The other Hawthornes treat us like scum,” he says. “I hate them—and I hate my parents for making me do this.”

“Well, I want to be here.” Lena lifts her chin. “My family has advised every ruling house for more than a century. We have never led, mostly because the older houses prefer to call us wise rather than powerful. I think that should change.”

I have to admire her honesty, now that it’s finally out in the open. At least she doesn’t pretend she doesn’t want power.

I look from one face to the next, hoping they’re finally done keeping things from me. Perhaps I’m still naive, but I do want to believe they’re telling the truth now.

“Please—can you tell me what happened to Josh? Rowan told me he was at Veil Night last year.” I swallow hard. “Were you there? Did you see him?”

They all look at me with the same quiet pity.

“We weren’t lying to you about that, Jack,” Wren says. “We really don’t know. Lower houses like ours aren’t present for every ceremony.”

Lena nods along. “Whatever happened that night, no one told us.”

“Did you know he was involved with the Veil?” I ask.

“No,” Wren says, shaking her head. “I’d never seen him around.”

“And my roommate? Eleanor Graves?” I ask. “Do you know what happened to her?”