Page 26 of The Last De Loughrey Dynasty

But she left out one phrase to keep this night hopeful.

Jesse scoffed nervously. “These prophecies could just be stupid jokes left by those who graduated, to troll us.”

I straightened in my chair and glanced at the picture of seven people sitting on the same couch that still stood in the common room, hanging above the unused chimney. This room hadn’t always been a secret. Once it must have been a normal basement, accessible to everyone. But we hadn’t been alive back then; not even our grandparents had. Now, the chimney was unusable and nothing more than decoration.

“Trust me, Jesse. I’m the one who’s most certain that all these clues, all these warnings about an unknown future, aren’t true,” I swallowed, “but we can’t risk it. Not when we’re aware of what lies behind the veil, of what they’re capable of.”

Silence covered every inch of the room before Mai spoke again.

“Death doesn’t always have to mean a person’s death. It can be a warning that something might end…that a new beginning is waiting for you.”

Nathaniel leaned forward, grasping the card with the image of a skeleton dressed in black armour, riding a white horse.

“But it doesn’t feel like a new beginning is waiting for her,” he said, his thumb tracing the black flag the skeleton held firmly in his grip.

Mai sighed in frustration. “No, it doesn’t.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

DOROTHEE

“Bloody hell, you look stunning, Doe,”Jesse announced as he stepped into the bedroom Maisie and I shared.

“The word you’re looking for is hot, Jesse. She looks hot,” Naomi corrected him, unhooking her arm from his.

They caught my eye in the mirror, and I analysed their gorgeous costumes.

Naomi wore a black V-neck dress that hugged her slim figure all the way down to her ankles. The sleeves were bell-cut, and from the look of it, the fabric seemed to be velvet. The dress appeared to be tailored specifically for her.

Her costume was completed with deep red lipstick and dark eyeshadow. She was the epitome of mesmerising.

Jesse wore a normal black suit with subtle stripes in a dark grey shade decorating the fabric. The bloody tie was the exact shade of his companion's lipstick. But when my eyes finally found his face, I had to cover my mouth to stifle a laugh. His normally curly hair was gelled back, and he wore a fake moustache.

“Oh, she looks temptingly attractive, but I thought it might be inappropriate to mention the looks of another woman,considering I have my date next to me,” Jesse said, his voice trying—rather unsuccessfully—to mimic a fifties film star’s Mid-Atlantic accent. It sounded hilarious.

Naomi, who was standing beside him, rolled her eyes and crossed her arms above her chest. “I declined your request for a date, I only accepted the couple costume because my part of the costume was practically made for me.” A grin tugged at her lips as she moved forward, adjusting his crooked tie. “I do hope you’re not too disappointed that I look like your best dirty fantasy, and you won’t get your filthy moustache near me tonight, Jesper.”

His gaze softened from amusement to frustration when she turned away from him. “You could have just pretended to be my date. I mean, it would have been genius for our costume. But go on, ruin it, I don’t mind at all.”

“They would have known anyway. Besides.” She turned to look at me through the mirror. “Doe, did you by any chance think Jesse and I were a couple during your time with us?”

Before I said anything, I turned around in my chair, taking a moment to look at them. The answer appeared on my tongue almost immediately. “You’re a great Morticia and Gomez, but there’s no love beyond friendship, from what I see.” When I turned back around, I used a handful of hair clips to make sure my diadem didn’t fall off and ruin my sleek bun, which had taken me twenty minutes to perfect. I was used to doing my hair by now, knowing that its length and thickness required time, but my arms still ached every time. I wished I could feel comfortable enough in my own skin to wear it open more often.

Naomi sank onto my bed, supporting herself with her hands as she leaned back, beaming a contented grin at Jesse.

“You’re sad now,Mon Cheri?”

“Heaven knows, I’m miserable now,” he replied, leaning dramatically against my closet.

“Did you just quote The Smiths?” I asked with a laugh.

Jesse waved me off without even looking at me, fixing his tie again as it kept slipping out of place. “The Smiths wrote all their songs dedicated to the great Jesper Anthony Berkshire, so technically, they quoted me.”

“Technically, the song you just quoted was written years before you were even conceived,” Archer, who had just stepped into the room, said as he closed the door behind him. That was something I’d noticed over the past month—Archer Kingstone hated open doors. Why, I didn’t know.

He wasn’t in some fancy or elegant costume. He wore blue jeans and a white shirt that was covered in blood—his face and hands were similarly splattered. His black hair was styled to look sweaty or wet, with loose curls hanging in his face.

“They channelled my soul to write these lyrics, but what am I telling you? You wouldn’t understand, mate. You have no taste in music.”

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