The grandfather clock at the end of the hall started to chime. Three o’clock. In four hours, those halls would be filled with screaming girls and swinging backpacks, long lines at the waffle bar and a whole new semester.
My last semester.
I looked at my new little friend and tried to see the mansion through her eyes—before the world got so close to our walls.
“Good night, Cammie,” Amy called to me as she walked to the end of the hall. She stopped with her hand on the banister, looking back over her shoulder at me. “We’re all glad you’re back.”
And then she disappeared up the stairs without a word or a sound; and I stood, silently wondering if I might have been mistaken. Maybe she really had been a dream.
Chapter Six
If our teachers were feeling any nostalgia about its being our Last First Day of a New Semester Ever, they totally didn’t show it the following morning.
For starters, they made us have our breakfast conversations in Mandarin, and then Madame Dabney came by and reminded everybody that our holiday thank-you cards were due in the mail by noon. (Madame Dabney takes her thank-you cards very seriously.)
But the day didn’t really get weird until my roommates and I joined the rest of the senior Covert Operations class in Sublevel Three. Because…well… Sublevel Three was empty.
Mr. Solomon was gone.
Aunt Abby was who-knew-where.
Technically, Agent Townsend hadn’t been on the Gallagher Academy payroll all year.
Exactly who I had been expecting as soon as we stepped off the elevator and into the ancient space, I wasn’t quite sure.
And then I heard the voices.
“Is the landline secure?” Mr. Smith asked.
“I think so,” my mother said. “But needless to say, we aren’t taking any chances.”
“Ask for Romero,” Mr. Smith was whispering just as the entire senior CoveOps class came walking around the corner.
“Mom?” I asked. “What are you doing here? Are you teaching us?” I asked, too much optimism in my voice. I should have known better.
“No, Cam. I’m sorry.” Mom brushed a hand across my cheek and put something in a backpack.
Behind her, Mr. Smith closed a door marked STORAGE with a snap. I heard the whining of gears and motors as the school’s security measures clicked into place, locking the closet, keeping whatever lay inside just out of reach.
“Good morning, ladies,” Mr. Smith said, even though he’d already seen us in Countries of the World. “If you’ll go back to class and take a seat, I’ll be right—yes, Ms. McHenry?” he asked Macey with a sigh.
“Where’s Mr. Solomon?”
“Away,” Mr. Smith said in a manner that totally didn’t encourage follow-up questions.
I watched the rest of the senior class pivot and start for our classroom, turning and moving like a flock of geese, but I was frozen to the spot. I looked from my mother to the backpack, from Mr. Smith’s eyes to hers. And I knew what had brought her all the way to Sublevel Three.
“You found another descendant, didn’t you?” I asked as soon as the rest of the class had left, but I didn’t wait for an answer. “Which one is it? William Smith? Is it the granddaughter in Toronto? I thought she might—”
“It’s not the woman in Toronto,” Mom said, her voice firm. “She’s descended from a different William Smith. Now, you need to—”
“Don’t tell me to stop worrying!” I snapped, louder than I’d intended. “The Circle of Cavan is planning something awful. Mr. Solomon and Zach are gone who knows where. We haven’t seen Aunt Abby or Agent Townsend in weeks.”
“Trust me, Cam, you don’t need to worry about my sister and Agent Townsend,” Mom said, but I was still rambling on.
“Zach’s mother is going around killing people. She’s killing people—and their kids—and I can’t do anything but worry.”
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” Mom sounded like she meant it, and I think she really did. “I have to go.”