...ready for it?

Zane was a little confused to head back into his room only to notice the random vials of liquid on his bed, almost ignoring them all together for a moment because of how much they looked like one of Carmen’s little science-y projects. However, the note that was left with it did catch his attention enough. His name was on it, after all. So he read;  ‘ Before you lies three vials: one poison, one antidote, and one placebo. Test your bravery to become a nightshade and drink from only one. If you do not return the other two vials to the tombs by midnight, you will have failed. ’   That’s when it hit him, this was his initiation task. Truth be told, he did forget he was part of it for a minute.   However, now that he was reminded of it – he was quite pumped.

So he returned to the door of his dorm, locking it just for security even when he doubted that any of his roommates were going to come in anytime soon because it was actually time to attend some courses but Zane did what was necessary and decided he’d skip them. With that, he grabbed some of the plastic cups he had always lying somewhere in case someone had a bottle of booze to share and poured the liquids into separate cups. He was the scientist now.

Although, upon further inspection – Zane couldn’t make out what the cups were containing. They all smelled the same, looked the same, felt the same  ( yes he had his dirty thumb in it ) . By now, this thing felt like a stupid prank. If at least one of the drinks reminded him of alcohol, he’d probably down it right away but it was like he needed to decide which nasty purple water was better. 

So he placed them down on his desk before taking a seat in front of them, figuring that maybe – if he stared them down enough, one would give him a sign by perhaps bubbling or creating a gravity wave. For a moment he considered throwing one of his worms in one of them and see how they’d react .. though although they loved moisture – he was scared one of them would actually harm them.

Hence why he did what any smart four year old would. ” Eany… Meany… Miney… “  Zane started off, his finger landing on the one in the middle. Good enough, he thought and with that he reached for the cup to down it in a quick motion. Whatever it was, it was tasteless – maybe a little woody tasting, like when you suck on a Popsicle for too long and suddenly realized you only had the woody stick left. That reminded him, he would really love a Popsicle right now.

To secure your place among the Dahlias, you are tasked to find the rumored journal of Gillian Gallagher. Once it is found, you are to transcribe the first ten pages and leave it in Gilly’s mailbox for us to find. You have 48 hours.

“Honestly, I didn’t pay attention to the movie at all,” Aylin admits to Julian one night after they’ve finished watching Love, Actually, since he’d never seen it. This is a big statement on her part, considering the movie includes Colin Firth learning Portuguese for the girl of his dreams and Aylin was still distracted. “I keep thinking about my task, I still haven’t gotten the letter, and…I’m really scared. I don’t even know if I want to be in it if you’re not in one anyway.” That’s a lie, actually. Aylin wants it really badly, being included is always her greatest desire, but saying that gives her a bit of a cop out excuse later if her task happens to really suck.  

“You don’t think they’ll put me in danger, do you?” Aylin asks.

She’s been nervously awaiting her own letter since Julian’s accident. She knew that Natasha and Aria wouldn’t do anything to explicitly hurt her, but Landon hadn’t meant to hurt Julian either, and yet Julian was still hurt and probably out of commission for all of bootcamp, really. So, she worries that despite all of her determination, she will have to face some terrifying feat on her own, and if she had to race someone in a car for a spot in the Dahlias, she would certainly lose the race! 

When she gets the envelope, she just stares at it for a while, but once she opens it she feels silly for waiting so long – it’s like a weight is lifted off her chest, the ease and interest of the task makes her feel WANTED, it’s like it was designed just for her and she smiles, feeling special and important. Aylin enjoys learning about Gallagher’s history and even more than that, she loves languages and translation. Gaelic isn’t a language that she’s explicitly familiar with, but she knows she’s sharp enough to figure it out, she’s translated plenty of texts before and this is no different, really. 

The only thing that is sort of inconvenient is that she’s gotten her initiation task around the time of finals because that’s forty-eight hours that she could have been studying, especially on a Sunday where she would’ve either spent all day in the library or on the floor of Noah’s room. However, these next two days will be dedicated to a different task entirely, and she knows that she has to find the journal quickly because it will probably take all of that time to translate – and if it doesn’t, she needs the time to get back to studying anyway. 

The first thing she does is get Kassandra Sutton to explain to her where she can find Gillian Gallagher’s house, no need for a walk through the woods together – she certainly would have liked the excuse to spend more time chatting with Kass, but she has to do this alone. The old house itself is sort of creepy, Aylin’s heard the stories about the scratches on the old yellow wallpaper, the cold winter air gusting through the open windows. The place is drafty, but she spends the whole day looking through the place. This is remarkably unpleasant for someone like Aylin who does not react well to mess or bugs, and there are spiders in all sorts of crevices, a family of mice that likely live in the walls. If she dies of black mold, the Black Dahlias will certainly be hearing from her mother about this! However, despite the severe need to take a shower after a day of searching in every corner of the house, she comes up with nothing.

There’s no book. Nine hours of searching, she’s found every little hideyhole, a passage for a hidden dumbwaiter, secret servant’s quarters, but she has not found anything that even remotely resembles any of Gilly’s old diaries. Translating itself will be a time consuming task, and she knows that the clock is ticking down. 

So, Aylin wonders if maybe she’s just searching in the wrong place. Despite what legend says about Gilly’s diary, it’s possible that she is just looking in the wrong location, right? She doesn’t sleep that night, seeking out other places on campus where Gilly spent her time, rooting around the oldest archives in the library and taking a walk out to the crypts. She’s certain the Dahlias wouldn’t give her an impossible task, right? That would just be cruel, certainly not a tenant of the sisterhood they’d spoken so highly of on Halloween night. And yet, Aylin is nothing if not thorough despite all the dirt she gets under her fingernails – first thing on her to-do list after this is a manicure – she finds absolutely nothing. 

On Tuesday afternoon, she’s forced to write a note in pink, cursive text to leave in the mailbox of Gillian Gallagher: 

Thank you very much for your consideration. I am unable to complete the task that you have presented, and therefore must rescind my pledge to the society. Best of luck with your organization.

She doesn’t sign her name, just in case it falls into the wrong hands. If she makes it sound like it was her choice, it’s a little better, right? They don’t need to know how hard she tried and failed at their ridiculous, impossible task. In fact, she finds it condescending and stupid that they would even go to such lengths to keep her out – there was no point in even trying to initiate her in the first place if they intended her to fail. It’s the way her sisters would have her do favors for them, tell her if she went inside and brought back snacks then she could play with them ; and somehow, they found a way to get out of including her every time, even when she brought back plates piled high with pastries from the kitchen. This whole ordeal makes her feel small and foolish, and maybe it’s not their fault for pushing her out, but it’s her fault for getting her hopes up in the first place.

So, this kind of feels like a load of bullshit. For almost three months, Priya has been waiting to hear back from the Dahlias, wondering just how intense this whole sisterhood was going to be. She’s been anticipating the next step after feeling this big suspense from that very first meeting. Maybe they’d have her try to solve a mystery, or break herself out of some escape room. The note that finds her in the middle of December isn’t what she’s expecting at all.

The note explains she has to find some weird old spell book from the Dahlias’ older days, though technically not spells, the book just contains information on herbs and poisons.

To secure your place in the group, retrieve the book in the next 24 hours, and secure The Dahlia’s handed down knowledge.

Are they really witches? is Priya’s first thought, and then quickly her brain realizes that if in 1998, the book was confiscated by the school’s then-current president, then the only place it should be now is Laura Sutton’s office, which is followed by a resounding: Shit…

For all of Priya’s recent irresponsible behavior, she hasn’t actually strayed too far into committing any crimes, and thus, doesn’t exactly have a background in stealing things, especially not from the office of a woman who most certainly knows better than maybe everyone in the building. Maybe this task would have been better suited to a Navigation major, or Covert Operations, or anyone who actually knew what they were doing when it came to breaking and entering. If they had asked her to solve a medical emergency, perhaps she’d be better suited to it. But nevertheless, she’s going to have to try.

Priya only has twenty-four hours, and so she knows she’s not going to be able to learn how to pick a lock (most likely a super-mega-lock) in the allotted time. So, breaking in is certainly out of the question. It would be better, she thinks, to be invited in.

“Do you have a minute, Madam President?” she asks with a smile when Laura Sutton opens the door to her office.

“Oh, please, don’t call me ‘madam’. But, what can I do for you, Miss Daly?”

Priya explains that she’d like some help in learning about her mother, conceding that she’d already tried the library, but due to being a first year, can’t really access any material that might help, and that she felt Laura Sutton might have a good grasp on history or alum at Gallagher.

“I’m not trying to say you’re old, because you look great,” Priya goes on. “You just… sort of seem like an institution yourself. I figured you might know better than anyone.”

President Sutton raises a brow at her, but opens her door wider all the same. “Come in.”

When she steps inside, Priya’s immediately looking around, though she doesn’t think that makes her look suspicious, because getting a first-time look into the President’s quarters is on it’s own, pretty wild, she thinks. Pretty quickly, she spots Laura’s tall shelf, lined with rows and rows of books. Yay.

“So, you said you had some questions about your legacy?” Laura asks, settling into her desk chair.

Priya realizes this was probably not the best route to go, because, well, actually she does want to know more about her mom, and it’s a litter easier than she’d like to tear her attention away from scanning the lines of book titles, and bring it to the kind gaze of Laura Sutton.

“Um… Yeah. I don’t… I don’t suppose you happened to know my mom?” Priya asks as she takes a seat on the other side of the desk.

The president lets out a small chuckle, shaking her head. “I’m afraid I didn’t, and while I do appreciate you thinking I am somehow all-knowing, Im afraid I don’t know quite as much about every legacy family as you might think. But I’m positive I can find a good starting place. If that’s what you’re after, of course.”

She glances one more time at the bookshelf, weighing her options, before turning back to President Sutton with a small nod, her eyes eager. Maybe this is buying time, but as they keep discussing it, Priya feels the clock ticking on her, and she’s not sure how best to proceed. She doesn’t know how to be a spy in this regard.

One thing Priya surprisingly does know is the way some of these Gallagher girls were brought up. And considering there’s a whole floor with her last name on it, Priya can only assume President Sutton fully grew up in this world. She knows how to be a spy, an agent, a trained and calculative mind. But, she also must know the makings of a fine young lady.

“Do you have any tea?” she asks, voice innocent as it can be. “Earl Grey, maybe?”

“Oh– How rude of me, I should have asked. Do you take it with sugar?” Laura responds, quickly rising from the desk, and it’s the only thing Priya could have really predicted out of this whole night.

“No, ma’am,” she answers, eerily and easily falling back into the mannerisms of the girl she used to be, her legs even moving to sit proper in the plush chair opposite the desk.

As soon as Laura’s out of the room, having excused herself to a small kitchenette just a door away, Priya is– rather conspicuously– already up out of her chair and scanning the bookshelf to her left. There are, annoyingly, a lot of books to sort through, and Priya spends most of her time reading title after title, none of which look at all like some sort of spell-book.

Until, that is, her fingers pass by a worn brown spine, the dark lettering on the side hard to make out until she slides the book out of the shelf, and in Priya’s hands, she holds a tome titled The Dahlia’s Book of Shadows.

“Finally,” she whispers with a wide smile, and that’s exactly when another voice speaks up. 

“Miss Daly, can I help you with that?”

When she spins back around, Priya notices first that she hadn’t even heard her reenter the room, even though Laura Sutton stands with a silver tray in her hands, loaded with ceramic plates, cups, and spoons, all balancing with the steaming teakettle, her face giving away nothing but calm and composure. Poise, Priya would do well to remember, is needed of both a spy and a lady.

She would have tried to hide the book if it wasn’t obvious enough already, so Priya does her best to appear perfectly normal, an easy grin on her face.

“I’m all good, I was just looking around,” she responds quick.

Laura sets down the tray, her voice sounding both respectably apologetic and effortlessly authoritative. “I hate to say it, but a lot of those volumes are off-limits. Would you mind leaving that where you found it?”

“You don’t check some of them out like the library?” the student jokes, albeit an admittedly lame one.

The president only pours two cups, never losing focus. “Unfortunately not,” she says, then walks over to the younger girl with a perfectly balanced teacup. “If you’d like, we can discuss the contents of this old notebook,” she starts, taking the dusty book from Priya’s hands and placing it back on the shelf before replacing it with another. “Or, I think I’ve found the right place to start when it comes to your mother’s time here.”

Laura Sutton’s face is serene and considerate, not at all accusatory, as she looks at Priya Daly with those same kind eyes. All she wants to do is help this lost girl, who she seems to know would rather learn about the woman she used to love than get caught up in whatever other nonsense is currently plaguing her.

To her credit, she’s right, though Priya takes her time in looking between the two books before ultimately knowing what she’ll choose.

She knows that timing is essential, and though she’s not the kind to cut it this close, if she gathers her information and places it in Gilly’s mailbox too early, there’s a risk of interference. For all she knows, couples use the mailbox to exchange love letters, starcrossed spy bullshit or a fear of the spark dying. Either way, she thinks it’s a stupid waste of time, but it’s a possibility, so she has to deposit her envelope full of notes the day before her task is due.

Virginie has no real desire to be in a secret society, it’s mostly about the fact that she has nothing better to do and she enjoys research. It’ll be nicer to turn down the offer rather than be rejected for failing. But for now, her mind isn’t made up entirely.

It’s not even that hard, really, to gather the needed information. Part of her assumes the Dahlia leaders already know the answers she’s looking for, but that’s what makes it a test, she supposes. The only hard part was getting a fourth year to tell her the location of Gilly’s house, but predictably, Claire isn’t big into the sanctity of school traditions so when Ginnie asks, she answers with a shrug and a general description.

It takes Virginie half an hour to find the house, purposely tucked away out of sight, but it’s empty when she gets there in the early morning. She’d wanted to give herself enough time to piece together the answers she needs, but she also knew there was less chance she’d run into company if she showed up before 8am. Thankfully, Virginie only has one class and it’s in the evening. She has time.

Finding the diaries is even easier than finding the house had been, actually. They’re neatly tucked away in the back of a hutch with glass doors, gathering dust, because Gallagher students don’t care much for those who were here before them, in a time when people actually used mailboxes for correspondence. Virginie gets comfortable in a cushy chair by the fireplace, which she doesn’t have to light because thankfully they’ve added heating sometime in the last century.

The first useful entry she finds reads:

November 17, 1943

I’ve heard about these things happening at Blackthorne but I never imagined we’d be so unfortunate at Gallagher. We don’t really haze people, honestly, every Dahlia just has to jump into the lake without clothes. We all make sure nobody gets too cold and towels are provided immediately after everyone gets out. Clara seemed like such a nice girl, but maybe too overly eager? It’s a shame she never got to become a Dahlia but I know she’s in a better place now.

Virginie, as an R&D major, is thorough. She could take notes on the important facts and leave it at that, but instead she transcribes all the most useful entries in her own notebook and neatly rips along the perforated lines to create a stack of notes to hand over to the Dahlia leaders. She sets the diary aside, flipping through a few more and finding nothing, not even a mention of the society. It’s not until the fifth diary that she finds another Dahlia entry:

November 22, 1943

The autopsy results are hush hush naturally, but Jean and I snuck into the hospital wing and read the whole thing late last night. Official cause of death is drowning, but apparently she’d been hit in the head first. Some of the girls suspected foul play, but I thought they were just desperate for entertainment. Things can get awfully boring around here, especially in the winter when being outside is so dreadful and classes are tedious. That’s why I joined the Dahlias, personally.

The night Clara drowned, there were some rumors about someone messing with Gilly’s sword, but I didn’t believe that, either. They didn’t seem to do anything to it, so what’s the point? Just to touch it? I can’t imagine why anyone would go through the trouble and it’s not as if poor Clara was stabbed.

It might be frustrating how no single person seems to have all the answers, but Virginie is enjoying the research and it’s more fun that it’s not so straight-forward. She idly reads through a few more diaries before finally finding the missing piece of the story:

December 18, 1943

I was so looking forward to Christmas break this year. We’re going to Tuscany, which means I won’t be forced to see Rupert’s ugly face at all. Unfortunately, my mood has turned sour at the news that apparently a filthy Blackthorne boy was on our campus a month ago. Dawn’s boyfriend finally cracked, like I knew he would! Boys are so easy.

Not only was it a Nightshade task to sneak onto the Gallagher campus, apparently someone was also supposed to steal Gilly’s sword! Their mistake sending one man for the job, if you ask me. All the Nightshades have been talking about how Clara tried to stop him so he had to fight her off and hit her in the head, then thought he’d killed her when she got knocked out. I see not everyone pays attention in their medical training classes...I feel so bad for poor Clara. Take a girl’s pulse next time, nitwit!

Then he threw her “body” in the lake but she wasn’t dead, so...she did drown, technically, like we were told. Now this boy’s been having all kinds of nightmares. Good! I hope the guilt eats him alive! But I bet he’s just scared he’s going to end up in prison. I’d rat on him in a heartbeat but I’ve no clue who it is. Apparently only a few of the Nightshades know and of course they’re protecting him, bastards.

Funnily enough, he’s been complaining about seeing her ghost everywhere, as if she’s tormenting him from the grave. Serves him right! This has been such an unfortunate semester. I’m not sure if the Dahlias will ever bounce back.

Well, I hope my entire holiday isn’t ruined. They let us out of this place so rarely!

By this time, Virginie’s hand is cramping and she drops her pen with a self-satisfied plunk after she successfully finishes copying the final entry. There’s no way of proving the validity of any of these claims, they’re all just gossip and hearsay, but she assumes this is the story she was supposed to uncover.

Julian and Milo had been wondering when they’d hear again from the Amethyst Nightshade Society. It starts with a note card in their room on December 5th, informing them they have to meet at the race track at midnight. The males wait in their rooms till it’s time, and they both head out a good few minutes before midnight struck. They both arrive around the same time, giving each other polite nods in greeting before they find Landon and two cars waiting for them. It’s a cold night; both men tighten their jackets around themselves. At this point, it’s more than evident to them what the task will be, but they wait for Landon to give the instructions.

Landon tells them that they will have to compete against each other in a five-lap, closed race. Whoever wins gets to be in the secret society, and whoever loses is out. As simple as that. With that, they are given a few moments to get in their cars.

Milo extends his hand out to Julian, a tight smile on his lips as he says, “May the best man win.” In this instance, handshakes are a gesture of sportsmanship—a gesture Milo hopes the other will reciprocate. 

“Good luck.” Julian shakes the other’s hand and gives him a polite smile. He appreciates the other’s gesture. Milo isn’t sure what to think of the task. Julian’s a competitive person when it comes to things like that. But he has nothing but respect for Milo. They’ve only talked a few times before that, and he’s a decent person. The whole thing about getting into an elite society means everything to him. It’s huge, a big honor, he thinks, to be chosen. And he wants to prove himself worthy. He gets into the car, shutting the door. He’s always been confident in his abilities, and he’s pretty sure he’s got this. He’s no Driver’s Ed major, but he’s a decent driver. Though, he’s sure Milo is a decent driver as well.

Milo isn’t sure what it’ll mean for him to win, other than being a part of a secret society. What’ll happen to him then? What will it mean for his friendships if he’s set apart from them by a secret? He’s never been one to claw or clamor his way for a place among the elite, but he doesn’t see the harm in playing along. At least, not when the stakes don’t seem as high—for now.

It’s a race, not a deathmatch. It’s innocuous. Milo reminds himself of that as he steps inside the car and pulls the door shut. He goes through the motions with a sigh: adjusting the mirrors, testing the lights, fastening his seat belt. For some reason, Milo’s nervous. He realizes his shaking breath as he exhales, looking over to Julian from his window, then to Landon as he waits for him to commence the race.

Julian gives Milo another polite nod from his window and fixes his eyes ahead; his entire focus right now is on this and this only. Milo’s hand is gripping the wheel, the other on the gear. The second Landon flags his arm down, pure instinct kicks in. He nearly stomps on the gas, his left hand with an iron grip on the wheel, white-knuckled and tense every time he gets closer to a sharp turn. He’s no Driver’s Ed major, but Milo makes sure his drifts are swift and clean for every lap, his car always edging Julian’s by a hair with every turn.

Julian’s full focus as he drives, his senses heightened. This is important to him— too important, and he wants to win. His grip on the steering wheel is too strong, his knuckles turn white, and he’s pressing down on the gas, letting the car drive to its utmost speed. 

Julian speeds past him every time they’re nearing the end of a lap, and it surprisingly makes Milo cock his head in frustration. He isn’t surprised the race is close, but it brings out competitiveness that he doesn’t know he had for something like this. Every now and then, Milo gives himself a second or two to glance at Julian, trying to gauge whether he’s taking this as seriously as he is—it looks like he is, but he can’t be too sure.

When Milo starts taking the lead and clears the fourth lap with Julian’s car a mere six feet behind, an odd sense of confidence washes over him that it makes focus on the race. He’s nearing the home stretch, after all.

On the fifth and last lap, Milo’s body’s gone numb from the tension in his body and limbs and the violent thrumming of the engine as he forces his foot down on the gas, pushing the absolute limit of how fast he can go to win this race. He’s so close, and from the rear view mirror, he can see Julian attempting to catch up to him.

This is when things take a sharp turn. All of a sudden, Julian starts losing focus. His attention shifts from the race to something else. To Aylin, to Bash. And to everything that had gone down the past month. He blinks, trying to regain focus on what’s important right now, but he’s unable to. His brain is practically consumed by thoughts of Aylin and Bash. 

Thoughts about his fight with Aylin after Halloween and the fact that they still hadn’t talked till now hit once more. He’s lost count of how many times he’s thought about her since their fight; he’s been unable to stop. He’s been missing her so much it physically hurts. He should’ve apologized long ago, but he feels so awful he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He doesn’t think he deserves it after storming out the way he did.

His brain is like 50/50 right now. The other half is bombarded with thoughts about Bash and how the past month, he had blackmailed him once again. Bash hadn’t complied, and coupling that with Thanksgiving, it only heightened Julian’s negative emotions because holidays are always difficult for him when Clara isn’t around anymore for those.

He feels utterly guilty for sending those anonymous messages to three of Bash’s friends. He’s been feeling extremely guilty, regretful, remorseful, and so horrible for a good time now, for everything he’s done to him since summer began, he feels like he’s been drowning in it. It’s too consuming, eating at him, and he knows it’s time to stop the blackmailing. He’s too frightened, and he can’t do it anymore.

The litany of voices intruding on his thoughts makes him lose his focus. The car’s moving too fast—he can’t afford to falter for even just a second, but his grip weakens, and at his final turn, Julian completely loses control of his car. The wheel turns on its own, whipping his hand away for a moment, and that’s all it takes for things to go south. He tries to regain any semblance of control, but it is too late.

The car spins wildly; it dizzies him. What little adrenaline he has helps him to keep his hands on the steering wheel, still trying to control the car, but it only makes things worse. He’s frantic; he doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore. He can hear the tires squealing against the tracks. It feels like mere seconds, like a blink of an eye,  before the car drives into a wall. The hood practically crumbles, the glass shatters, and the airbag is activated.

The collision throws him, his head whipping back violently as he tries to shield himself from the shattered glass. All the air’s knocked out of his lungs, but he still tries to keep himself steady. Julian’s head is wracked with dizziness; he feels a kind of pain so sharp, he can’t pinpoint. It doesn’t take long before it spreads all over his body, reverberating from the heat that prickles his skin down to the soreness of his muscles. He feels hot all over. He smells smoke, metal, and the earth. His eyes are bleary with white and grey matter. His mind is screaming at him to move, to do something, to call out for anyone—but he’s frozen and losing consciousness with each passing second.

A shaky hand feels around his side, using the last of his energy to attempt to unfasten his seat belt and get out of the car. It’s hopeless, Julian knows, and with a clenched jaw, he succumbs to unconsciousness in time with the sound of buckle unlatching.

All the while, Milo speeds past his last lap, winning the race to the sound of metal hitting brick and concrete. He can’t afford to turn his head to see it happen as he accelerates his car past Landon, but even just the sound is too visceral. In his eyes, it already feels like a Pyrrhic victory. He doesn’t know what to do right then—joy definitely isn’t what he’s feeling.

Milo slams the brakes, turns off the ignition, and practically leaps out of the car to sprint towards Julian, even darting past Landon, who’s calling his name. He’s still buzzing from the high of the race, ears still ringing from the sharp roar of the engines—but he doesn’t have it in him to not rush to save someone in danger.

So he runs. He runs as fast as he can to Julian, skidding against the gravel as he stops by the driver’s side and yanks the door open. He tries to cover his nose with his blouson jacket, but he needs two hands to pull Julian out of the wreck. He’s careful not to injure him any more than he already is, slowly lifting him from his seat, his arms hooked around Julian’s.

The two drop to the ground, and Milo tries his best to gently wake Julian, head-turning to Landon—“Hey! We need to get him to the infirmary, now!” It’s only mere seconds before Landon rushes to him, running as fast as he can to help Milo.

Julian feels like he’s being carried, but he can’t bring himself to focus enough to see by who. He can’t concentrate on anything; he’s too lost and overwhelmed and in pain to exert any shred of effort on anything. He feels like he needs to yell, to say something, but it’s like his tongue is tied, and he’s just too exhausted to do anything.

Milo’s focus is split between making sure he hasn’t just witnessed another death and looking at Landon for answers. What’ll happen if Julian dies, who’ll speak on his behalf to explain what happened to him, how any of this is worth it—but the need for Julian to be safe overtakes any of his concerns, and he can only stand back and watch as the nurses resuscitate him.

         When  she  realized  that  there  was  not  one  new  note  but  two  from  the  Black  Dahlia’s,  along  with  the  velvet  black  ribbon  which  tied  the  two  together,  the  smile  that  spread  across  her  features  was  inevitable.  Marifer  had  been  practically  counting  down  the  days  since  their  first  meeting  after  the  Autumn  Gala  for  when  she’d  hear  from  the  Dahlia’s  again.  Marifer  is  not  a  part  of  a  legacy  family,  no  one  in  her  family  has  been  a  spy  or  knows  much  about  spy  work,  to  her  the  existence  of  the  secret  society  is  more  about  something  fun  and  mysterious  to  look  forward  to  rather  than  anything  that  has  to  do  with  honor.  That  word  is  often  foreign  in  her  vocabulary  but  perhaps  if  she  can  join  the  Dahlia’s,  that  will  change.  The  first  note  itself  is  pretty  self  explanatory:  Wear  the  ribbon  to  the  dining  hall  and  spot  the  other  Dahlia  wearing  a  matching  ribbon.  

         Marifer’s  entire  aesthetic  already  revolves  around  the  color  black.  It’s  classy  and  she  likes  that  it  can  go  with  absolutely  anything  which  is  proven  even  more  right  when  it  comes  to  styling  the  ribbon  on  her  wrist  with  one  of  her  outfits.  No  one  would  suspect  it  being  out  of  character,  except  the  other  Dahlia,  whom  she  hopes  to  find  rather  quickly.  The  raven-haired  girl  is  more  than  a  little  excited  to  be  able  to  get  started  with  solving  the  mystery  that  is  the  second  note  she  received.  Marifer  is  hoping  that  the  other  Dahlia’s  note  contains  more  of  an  explanation  because  ‘ where  lies  distant  donated ’  doesn’t  give  many  context  clues,  even  to  someone  like  Marifer  who  spends  a  good  amount  of  time  snooping  around  the  grounds  at  Gallagher.  

         It’s  subtle,  the  way  velvet  black  ribbon  ties  the  usually  loose  hair  up.  Yet,  the  bow  sits  high  and  tight,  key  point  of  the  styling,  no  doubt.  To  anyone,  it’s  nothing  more  than  an  accessory  ;  to  someone  that  would  be  looking  for  it,  it’s  catchy.  Just  like  the  one  around  her  wrist.  Of  course,  Mary  had  a  light  case  of  jitters  as  she  was  getting  ready,  the  hop  in  her  steps  a  little  more  nervous  than  joyous  this  time  around.  If  she  could  bet,  she’d  definitely  put  a  20  on  the  other  pledge  catching  the  way  her  shoulders  instantly  become  less  tense,  result  of  the  silent  sigh  of  relief  Mary  lets  out.  She  looks  sweet,  it’s  reassuring.  “  Do  you  have  any  idea  what  flowers,  ours  and  brothers  could  mean  ?  ”  Mary  knows  that  small  talk  would’ve  probably  been  appreciated,  but  for  some  reason,  she  feels  like  there’s  a  clock  ticking  above  both  their  heads.  Getting  to  where  they  need  to  go  or  to  what  they  need  to  do  a  little  more  important  in  her  eyes  than  talking  about  how  cute  the  ribbon  around  the  other  girl’s  wrist  is.  Plus,  the  note  neatly  folded  up  in  her  hand  had  left  her  slightly  confused  since  the  moment  she  read  it.  

         Marifer  understands  the  other’s  urgency  to  get  the  rest  of  the  clues  out  of  the  way  because  it’s  all  she  herself  has  been  thinking  about.  Trying  to  gather  a  mental  list  of  every  place  at  the  school  so  that  she  can  tick  them  off  one  by  one  but,  of  course,  her  clue  alone  won’t  get  her  there.  She  knows  several  people  at  Gallagher  that  would  opt  out  for  the  ribbon  in  their  hair,  so  she’s  grateful  that  Mary  has  also  spotted  her  and  deduced  that  they  were  looking  for  one  another.  “ I  think  it  would  make  more  sense  if  we  put  it  together  with  where  lies  distant  donated. ”  Her  voice  is  quiet,  only  loud  enough  for  the  girl’s  ears  but  she  maintains  the  friendly  smile  on  her  face  so  they  just  appear  as  two  friends  having  a  casual  conversation.  If  there  is  one  thing  that  she  does  hope  to  get  out  of  being  a  part  of  the  secret  society,  it’s  getting  to  make  friends,  forming  bonds  that  perhaps  will  become  unbreakable.  As  she  thinks  about  this,  however,  she’s  also  thinking  about  the  clues,  attempting  to  put  them  together.  “ The  gardens,  most  of  them  are  donated,  correct?  Or  given  to  the  school? ”  She  spends  enough  time  snooping  to  figure  that  part  out,  waiting  for  the  nod  of  approval  from  Mary  who  provides  the  conclusion  to  their  clue:  The  Georgian  Garden,  given  to  Gallagher  by  the  Blackthornes.  

         “  I’m  curious  what’s  going  to  be  waiting  there.  When  they  said  to  be  ready,  I  wasn’t  really  expecting  a  search  and  find.  ”  Ah,  there’s  Mary’s  small  talk  on  their  way  to  the  solved  riddle’s  location.  It’s  truly  harmless,  too,  for  she  has  no  reason  to  ever  be  hostile  to  her  potential  new  sister.  It’s  a  little  way  off  on  the  grounds,  going  there  silently  would  just  be  awkward.  “  If  it’s  another  riddle,  I’m  fairly  confident  in  our  chances  of  both  getting  in.  Wouldn’t  that  be  so  fun  ?  ”  Mary’s  getting  a  little  ahead  of  herself,  but  she  means  it.  “  Being  able  to  make  our  own  legacies  here,  you  know.  ”  Sure,  Mary’s  last  name  is  basically  plastered  every  other  places  around  the  school,  but  it’s  not  her  doing.  She’s  proud  of  her  family,  of  where  she  comes  from.  And  this  could  be  a  way  to  prove  that  she’s  worthy  of  the  name,  that  she  can  achieve  the  potential  her  mother  once  showed  the  school’s  officials  in  her  time.  Needless  to  say,  this  means  a  lot  to  the  young  Sakamoto.

         All  that  she  can  do  is  agree  with  the  other  girl  because,  yes,  it  would  be  so  fun  to  become  her  sister.  She  has  enjoyed  working  with  her  thus  far.  The  no  bullshit  part  especially,  getting  straight  to  the  point  so  that  they’re  able  to  find  their  prize  all  that  much  faster.  By  this  point,  Marifer  has  deducted  just  how  important  this  might  be  to  Mary  and  more  than  that,  the  importance  it  might  have  to  her  family  name.  Naturally,  she  is  rooting  for  her  as  much  as  she  is  rooting  for  herself.  Marifer’s  lack  of  friendships  her  first  two  years  at  the  school  had  left  her  starved  for  forming  connections  with  people  and  Mary  was  no  exception  to  that.  Then  comes  the  final  instruction  under  the  sign  for  the  gardens  :  “ Start  together,  but  dahlia’s  must  bloom  alone.  Find  our  namesake. ”  Her  mouth  drops  a  bit  at  this,  although  she  wonders  if  both  of  them  should  have  been  expecting  it,  that  it  wouldn’t  be  as  simple  as  solving  riddles  all  night  long.  They’ve  chosen  which  way  each  of  them  will  go,  knowing  there’s  no  sense  in  searching  in  the  same  places  if  only  one  of  them  will  find  the  dahlia.  A  smile  that  certainly  doesn’t  touch  her  eyes  is  set  on  her  face  as  she  looks  at  Mary  before  the  two  of  them  are  off  on  their  own.  

         One  last  look  goes  Marifer’s  way,  mouths  a  good  luck,  and  off  Mary  goes  on  her  own  part  of  the  gardens.  Young  girl  knows  she’s  not  alone,  not  truly,  but  the  eerie  silence  only  being  broken  up  by  the  sound  of  her  own  footsteps  makes  her  feel  like  it.  And  in  a  way,  they  are  alone,  because  how  could  the  other  help  without  sabotaging  themselves  in  the  process  ?  And  at  this  point,  it’s  not  a  question  of  being  selfish  or  selfless,  it’s  to  complete  something  that  had  been  demanded,  where  only  one  gets  to  finish.  Mary  is  set  on  this  idea,  set  on  doing  what’s  asked  of  her.  Finding  a  flower  in  a  garden,  it  sounds  tedious.  Although,  she  supposes  there  won’t  be  a  patch  of  thousands  of  dahlias  out  in  the  open,  right?

         Nerves  ;  that’s  all  she  feels,  but  there’s  a  certain  adrenaline  that  comes  with  that  as  well.  She  can’t  help  but  compare  this  to  her  previous  adventures  throughout  Gallagher.  With  Skylar,  with  Cecilia,  with  Nate.  More  than  anything  she  wishes  that  she  could’ve  told  Wilder  about  all  of  this  but  even  after  the  fact,  she  still  can’t  tell  him.  He  wouldn’t  tell  anyone,  she  knows  that,  but  still  Marifer  knows  when  to  hold  her  tongue.  With  the  light  of  her  phone  shining  on  the  different  plants  and  flowers,  this  all  feels  much  more  eerie  than  the  tombs  or  entering  Gillian’s  home.  “ You  can  find  it. ”  A  whispered  attempt  at  a  pep  talk  to  herself.  It’s  as  motivating  as  it  is  fleeting.  Everything  kind  of  looks  the  same  after  a  moment,  especially  when  the  garden  itself  feels  like  one  big  shadow.  

         She’s  gripping  her  phone  tightly  in  one  hand,  figured  out  the  plant  would  probably  be  hidden,  and  the  light  emitting  from  the  device  simply  makes  her  life  easier.  Mary  doesn’t  know  just  how  long  or  how  far  into  the  gardens  she  is,  just  that  each  edges  and  each  turn  she  takes  either  brings  her  closer  or  further  from  her  goal,  and  it’s  enough  to  put  a  more  pressing  pace  to  her  steps.  Enough  to  get  an  already  fast  beating  heart  pumping  even  faster.  If  she  trips,  it’s  on  her  own  feet  for  wanting  to  get  too  fast.  She  doesn’t  have  the  luxury  to  slow  down,  because  if  Marifer  finds  it  first,  she  won’t  try  to  cheat  her  way  into  stealing  the  win  from  her.  If  there’s  one  thing  that  Mary  wants  to  be,  it’s  fair.  They  both  know  that  whatever  happens  next,  the  one  that  finds  the  Dahlia,  wins.

         The  gardens  are  one  of  the  few  places  that  never  caught  her  interest  enough  to  roam  through  so  she  isn’t  expecting  it  when  it  becomes  somewhat  of  a  loop,  from  where  she’s  standing  she  can  see  where  the  garden  begins  to  curve.  It  wouldn’t  be  as  simple  or  predictable  as  for  the  dahlia  to  be  right  in  the  center  of  the  garden,  right?  Where  everything  meets?  She  shakes  her  head  as  if  answering  her  own  question.  Still,  this  makes  her  hurry  more  as  she  continues  looking,  until  Marifer  swears  that  she  can  hear  Mary  somewhere  too  close.  This  stops  her  for  a  moment  and  despite  herself  she  stops  to  contemplate  the  fact  that  she  may  genuinely  lose  and  her  biggest  adventure  at  Gallagher  yet  will  come  to  a  close.  

         It’s  very  faint,  but  she  can  see  Marifer’s  own  light  in  the  corner  of  her  eyes.  Did  they  really  walk  until  they  found  each  other?  Was  the  prize  not  on  the  other’s  side?  Mary  doesn’t  have  the  time  to  ponder  too  long  on  it,  because  if  Marifer’s  close,  so  is  the  dahlia.  She  shines  her  way  closer,  keen  eyes  still  looking  for  the  elusive  flower,  free  hand  getting  restless  to  grab  it.  Only  a  few  steps,  she  thinks,  only  a  few  more  ste  ————

         It’s  one  of  those  moments  that  you  can’t  believe  happened  unless  you  physically  lived  it  and  even  when  you  have  lived  it,  it  feels  like  a  dream.  It  is  something  of  fate  or  more  like  chance.  They  did  this  together,  it’s  not  fair  that  only  one  of  them  should  win.  It  isn’t  fair  that  one  of  them  should  feel  their  stomach  drop  from  the  realization  that  the  other  has  won.  There’s  only  a  single  phone  light  shining  now,  pointed  right  at  the  fully  bloomed  dahlia  that’s  sitting  there  (completely  unassuming,  as  if  it  didn’t  and  would  never  realize  it’s  own  importance),  Marifer  takes  a  deep  breath.  “ No. ”  The  word  leaves  her  mouth  without  thinking,  she  looks  up  to  meet  Mary’s  gaze.  Mary,  who  is  telling  her  something,  attempting  her  best  to  smile,  but  she  sounds  a  thousand  miles  away.  Marifer  feels  as  if  she’s  drowning  underwater  even  though  she’s  still  simply  standing  there.  

macie marks doesn’t pair her dithering incompetence under a sickly sweet smile and eager-to-learn eyes. no, she boasts her failures with the pathetic misbelief that she’s going to amount to something in life ( newsflash : she’s not ). thalia hall has fought her many times since the semester began, and has won every time without ever breaking a sweat. even if skill were in macie’s repertoire, all it’d take is a bit of brute force, a heel on the back of her elbow and a moment of tenderness in held hands before she yanks it back. snap. she imagines her heart with break open in two the same way when she throws this match, like a fortune cookie with a dismal future - you lose. 

king of the court and she wears the crown, carried over from last week, undefeated in skill : wrist locks objective : retrieving a usb on the person. NOTE : few weapons are half as sharp as information. macie went down as easy as a swatted fly, but still had the audacity to jut out her clammy palm for a shake and say ‘   good match.   ’ it was a scathing overestimation, and it had felt insulting to even be implicated in her version of good. thalia had wanted to spit in her hand before she shook it, but instead settled for imagining pressing the pad of her thumb so hard against her metacarpal that it left a bruise. 

gallagher girls don’t use guns, but their enemies do. so the jester who’s stumbled onto the rope laden stage finds herself wielding an unloaded beretta 92s with so little tact that contempt almost makes thalia forget her mission. ‘   task is as follows : thalia is to disarm macie. she has one minute to do so. she fails if she does not do this within the allotted time or if macie successfully presses the barrel of her gun against her stomach, chest, neck or forehead.   ’ thalia disregards this preamble, this manoeuvre takes on average fifteen seconds, half a minute if she’s against a worthy opponent. besides her mission isn’t teacher-told, it’s sprung from black masks and flowers : LOSE.

her peers wear a casual disinterest, they go for water breaks, stretch out their calves. they know macie will be down in ten seconds flat, that reaching for your toes is a better use of your time. the less eyes the better, thalia thinks when professor gambley looks to her watch, an old gold thing that dates her even though she’s only thirty-two. after several dull moments, she says, ‘   and start.   ’ hand curls around barrel of gun. push down. redirect fire. 

                                                          knee to the gut / barrel under chin / wait

one missisippi. two mississippi. three. macie does nothing. she makes losing hard. ‘   jesus christ.   ’ she mumbles under her breath, willing her to do something. macie tries to push forward, her hand tight on the grip, but it’s an arm wrestle with a gun between them and thalia is overwhelmed by the urge desire to use her face as the table, so she slams the gun back against macie’s nose, the hammer leaving a red indent across the bridge of it. macie bleeds easily, she’ll be swallowing back blood in thirty seconds, give or take. ‘disarm, thalia.    ’ gambley warns. it garners the gazes of her classmates, putting a pause on wrapping their hands, patting their faces dry. macie doesn’t lick the blood off her lips, she just lets it run down the valley of her oblong chin onto the floor. thalia takes this moment to admire her work, three red dots on the floor, it provides a distraction to the pain of slackening her grip on the gun, which takes macie several moments to pick up on. 

but even when she stares at the floor, thalia is unable to ignore her periphery. dodges the lunge for her neck like it’s second nature, and her knee connects with macie’s stomach the moment the minute elapses. macie stumbles backwards with a smile because she knows she’s won. ‘   and time. shake on it. macie, you stay on.   ’ gambley says, before turning to write thalia’s cracked pride right onto the chalkboard. thalia sticks out her hand, she knows that macie is disgustingly pleased with herself without even having to look at her. ‘   good match. you really ought’a keep an eye on the clock. it was my plan all along.   ’ macie spouts, and it’s vexing. so of course she spits into her palm the second before macie takes it, just to make her squirm. thalia doesn’t have to imagine the bruise on the flesh between her thumb and forefinger, she’ll see it tomorrow. she pushes hard. one mississippi. two mississippi. ‘   i hate liars.   ’ three.

first. macie squeals like a little piggy. then. gambley turns back around. right as. thalia kicks macie in the shin, wishing she was wearing steel-toed boots.

the note arrives at exactly 11pm for each of them, slipped beneath their doors of room 106 and 506, in hopes that their other three roommates won’t reach them first. 

to become a worthy member to the brotherhood, your presence is requested at the tombs at exactly midnight tonight, when the night is at its darkest and moon is at its brightest. bring your strength, for bravery will not cut it. 

good luck. 

it feels like deja vu returning to the tombs, but unlike the night of the gala they’ve left the mask and formal attire at home, and instead both men are wearing sweats. caden arrives first, tugging his sweatshirt closer to him, arms wrapping around himself as he stands… and waits, not really sure what he’s waiting for. it’s not until he hears someone else approaching that he straightens his shoulders, though the sight of alex makes his lips part in surprise. caden tries to remember if he has anything to do with the secret society, or if he’s simply hanging around the tombs at midnight for fun. “what are you doing here?”

alex’s hoodie is up as his hands are stuffed within the pockets of the sweatshirt as he approaches, brows furrowing as he notices caden, not necessarily easing any of the nerves he feels on the inside, but lets none it show on his face. "i brought my strength --- or whatever," he says with a smile. "you think they'll make us dig up good ole gilly?"

"oh good, you too?" caden snorts, though there's some relief that comes with alex's presence. there's something slightly creepy about this whole secret society thing, and if not for enzo and landon obviously having a part of it, he would fear it has something to do with the brotherhood from last year.  "i hope not, what kind of strength would that show, upper body?" just in case, he glances around for a shovel. 

"two of gallagher's strongest?  of course,"  alex jokes if only to ease the tiniest bit of nerves he has at the ominousness of the note and the location. 

landon shows up characteristically a little later than he was supposed to be, but he figures their late arrival would only keep the two others on their toes about the whole thing.  “evening, gentlemen,” he says, and it's difficult to not hear the grin (and his southern accent) as he speaks. “you two were asked here tonight as your initiation mission and to bring your strength along with you.” he pauses, mostly for dramatic effect, and he’s considering saying they’re not going to have to dig up a dead body because jesus, alex, he’s not about to piss of a ghost. “you two are going to have to fight one another, and the victor is the one going to join the brotherhood.” landon explains before his last pause. “good luck to the both of you.”

the blonde nods his head amusingly as he listens to the other speak, head leaning forward at the other's pauses, making him a little restless though he supposes he'd do the same in his situation. he looks at caden with a confused look , "how do we know who wins?"  because it meant a little morbid in his previous school, but mainly because he might or might not be doubting caden's abilities slightly. 

“whoever is knocked to the ground and can’t get back up,” landon answers, and as the words come out of his mouth, they feel heavy because he does like both of them and would want both of them in the society. before the two of them walk away, landon adds because he just feels like a small disclaimer needs to be said. “just⎯⎯ don’t kill each other please.”  from across the way, alex rolls his eyes.

caden’s jaw clenches slightly; a task about fighting should be what he had expected when strength had been brought up, but maybe he had been hoping it wouldn't be the case, considering his track record for fights at gallagher. "this is so stupid," he mumbles, but it's the nerves inside him talking, because he doesn't know how well of a fighter alex is or not. he doesn't think the other guy is a combat major, but it doesn't make him feel any better. but it's the chance into a secret society -- basically the highest honor of the college world. he'd be stupid not to try, right? so caden tries to unleash his inner claire walsh, standing up straighter and puffing out his chest a bit as he makes his way closer towards alex. "good luck, man," he says with a small smirk, only feeling a little guilty that it's only one or the other, before caden throws his first punch towards alex's gut. 

alex is expecting a handshake and is instead met with a punch to the gut, completely catching him by surprise, causing some of the wind to be knocked out of him. if alex is being honest, a part of him underestimated his current opponent, especially considering alex has been training slightly more and even has someone new to spar with, so he had a couple more tricks up his sleeve.  he looks at the other bewildered.  "well who taught you how to fight?"  he asks slightly amused though now he knows he has to take everything slightly more seriously and straightens himself out as well, but not before removing his hoodie.  "well come on then."

caden's not stupid; he knows by now not to underestimate his opponent, even if it is only alex. if he's going to win this, he'll need to pull out all the spots -- which includes catching him by surprise. caden flashes him a sheepish grin, wanting to roll his eyes as the other man takes off his sweatshirt. the invitation makes him snort, but he does as he's told, caden faking one direction before he strikes another punch, this time towards his chest. it's been awhile since he fought someone for the purpose of trying to hurt them, causing him to be a little hesitant in where he throws a punch. 

alex is aware that the easiest way to punch is to cause a distraction and that's what the other is doing now; he moves quickly and punches the other in the abdomen. he knows caden values his face as much as alex does, so he is quick yet hesitant to respect those boundaries. the punch to the gut wipes the breath out of caden, realizing that alex is a bit too precise with his movements. it’s too late for caden to attack back, but he breathes through the pain and strikes around alex’s head, going for the ear - it should stun alex enough to double back and give caden a chance to catch his breath, which is what he really needs right now.

alex doesn't think the other would go for his head but it wasn't like either of them stated they wouldn't. he thought it was implied but at the moment he feels a sting at his ear he has to stop and shake it off. caden clearly really wanted to get in, and alex knows it'd be best to strike him while he was down so he did his chest to stabilize himself and punch the other in the jaw. 

lucky for him, caden makes the mistake of pausing after striking, even just for a moment. if claire was there she would've told him to get another hit in while alex was down, but it's a little different fighting here verses sparring in the gym, with the stakes being so high. by the time he goes to throw another punch alex beats him to it -- and the blow causes caden to go stumbling back, a small groan escaping him. "fuck,"  he mumbles, though it's muffled from how his mouth fills with blood. leaning to the side, caden spits it out. it's a friendly reminder that this isn't the classroom; caden's free to play this however he wants. so he charges for him, landing a punch alex's shoulder while swiping his feet with one of his own, trying to knock the blonde onto the ground. this would have never been allowed on the mats -- it was too brutish, especially after first blood is spilled. alex attempts to anticipate the punch, but it does manage to catch him off guard, causing him to fall, but as soon as he falls he uses his arms and legs to push himself back up and quickly kick caden in the chest -- making himself proud, and giving him enough for alex to think of his next move. 

caden doesn't expect alex to be able to get up so quickly, ready to quite literally kick the male while he's down. instead it's caden who gets kicked down, the blow to his chest causing him to double over, footing not quite good enough to keep him standing. he can feel the heaviness of landon's gaze as he watches the two of them, and caden doesn't know if it's better or worse that it's a close friend having to witness this embarrassment. it takes him a moment to get back on his feet, but as soon as he does he's aiming a right hook towards alex's jaw, his own still throbbing from when the blonde hit him last. alex he sees the punch coming and grabs caden by his forearm, using the other's force to push him to the ground.

bea had been both excited and nervous about the prospect of a task for the dahlia’s for weeks. at the initiation they spoke of a sisterhood and the door to endless possibilities. though she wasn’t one hundred percent certain that she belonged in the spy world, she always strived to be the best she could be and she hoped doing this would make her mother proud. but she had no idea what she would be asked to do, and she was scared that it would be something completely out of her depth.

and then she got the note. she opened it slowly, hand shaking slightly, and took a deep breath before she began to read. a grin spread across her face - getting access to someone’s file was something she could actually do. something she was good at. her first instinct was to look for a list of the other initiates, and she spent a good twenty minutes staring at her wall as she tried to think of a place she could find one. but she had to accept that that wasn’t something she was going to find laying around. she had a few guesses as to who the other girls were, but the only person she knew for sure was margot. bea felt a little guilty looking up the personal file of one of her oldest friends, but she knew margot would understand, and it all seemed fairly harmless. she couldn’t quite understand why the dahlias wanted the file, surely they could get it on their own, but perhaps they just wanted to see how quickly she could hack into the school’s system. it didn’t take long at all, hacking into the gallagher system was something she’d already done a number of times. getting access to margot’s file was almost too easy, something bea thought any ae kid could do, but she tried not to think about why that might be. she didn’t read the file - that hadn’t been part of the task, and it didn’t feel like her place - but she saved a copy to her computer and tried to focus on other things while she anxiously waited for midnight to come.

she left her room at 11:30, her laptop in a bag slung over her shoulder. the cool night air only seemed to add to the feeling of excitement, her anticipation mounting with each step she took towards the greenhouse. there were no lights on when she arrived, and she couldn’t help but feel a little scared as she shut the door behind her. there was a stillness in the air and it was eerily quiet. she turned her phone’s flashlight on it shone it around. as far as she could tell, she was the only one there. she continued to walk around, looking for some sort of sign that she was in the right place, and soon she stumbled upon another envelope. she was more confident opening this one than the first now that she’d completed her task - or at least now that she thought she had. as soon as she read it her face fell. they wanted her to send the file out to the whole school, and as soon as she’d processed the words she knew she couldn’t do it. 

bea sat down on a dirty chair that creaked under her weight and dropped her head into her hands. this wasn’t something she could get behind, and she was having trouble with the idea that the dahlias would approve of betraying one of their own members. she felt silly for accepting the idea that her task could be as simple as it first appeared. bea was disappointed, in them for asking this of her, and in herself for her inability to come through. she reached into her bag and pulled out a pen and a piece of paper torn from a notebook and began to write:

dear dahlias, 

 i am incredibly honored to have been chosen as one of this year’s initiates. i’d forgotten how good it can feel to be a part of something bigger. i am so grateful to have been given this opportunity, but unfortunately i must decline. i cannot in good conscience publicize this file. the only outcome i can imagine is one that will hurt a friend, and i will not cause an innocent person harm for my own personal gain. i’m not confident in what that says about me as a spy, but i do feel good about what that says about me as a person. 

 best,  bea fitzsimmons

she folded the piece of paper carefully and left it inside the envelope that had been left for her. she sighed heavily as she took one last look around the greenhouse before she made her way back to campus, head down and shoulders slumped. bea hated failing and she hated letting people down, and while she believed she had done the right thing, she still felt horrible. she couldn’t talk to anyone about why she was upset, and so she spent the next couple of days smiling uneasily and trying to ignore the heaviness in chest. approximately two days later she returned to her room after a walk with her dog to find another envelope tucked under her pillow. she stared at it for a long time before she opened it. bea read and reread the note seven times before she remembered to exhale and the corners of her mouth flickered upwards in a half-hearted attempt to hide a smile. 

dearest bea, 

the black dahlias must know when to take command, and when to leave it. you have chosen the latter, and in doing that, have shown us that you know that your sisters come before anything else. your judgement to hold their secrets close to your chest as if they were your own demonstrates that you know the rooted connection of the sisterhood. congratulations on securing your place in the group.

As soon as Aidan received his task, he headed straight to Luc’s dorm, wholeheartedly relieved that he is paired with a familiar face, and someone he can be sure will take the task deadly seriously. Upon reaching Luc’s dorm, he finds the other already at the open door, as if about to head out to find him, and they hold their matching cards up in greeting. 

There’s an uneasy feeling shared by the both of them at the destination –– his years at Blackthorne were not a pleasant period of time in Aidan’s life, and the knowledge that Luc’s older brother died there certainly doesn’t help it feel welcoming.

Despite their unease, the two put their heads together and spend a while discussing their options –– as a third year, Aidan is able to leave campus if requested, whereas second-year Luc is not. This certainly puts a wrench in the plan to stroll out of the gates and head to Blackthorne whenever they please, but they’ll manage. 

Aidan, as the troublemaker and seasoned rule-breaker out of the two, eventually comes up with the idea to rent a car and have Luc hide in the trunk ( somewhat jokingly ), but as soon as he says it the two seem to realize it might be their only option. While he’s certainly not happy about it, Luc begrudgingly agrees to hide in the trunk, and the two can only pray their plan isn’t entirely foiled by some security guard deciding to check it.

The two agree to meet in the garage, seven pm the dot that night, with the gear they’ll need and a plan in mind.

“Right, then. Get in, I guess.” Aidan scrubs at the back of his neck, gesturing towards the open trunk. He’s signed a form to take the car out, and the two of them are now standing in the garage, decked in black outfits and both carrying more knives on them than necessary –– a byproduct of the unease caused by their destination. 

“What, now?” Luc protests, eyeing up the tiny space, and Aidan gives him a blank stare. 

“I mean, unless you plan on wriggling in from the backseat when we’re in front of the guards.” 

A beat of silence ensues before Luc rolls his eyes and climbs in, settling down on the floor. Aidan stands over him, hand on the hood, and offers a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” he says, and closes it.

They make it to the gate before the car is stopped, and Aidan leans out to greet the security guard with practiced calm. He gives the guard his name, which is written on a form giving him clearance for the night, and explains his plan to meet a friend in town, relaxing back into the leather  seat when the guard waves him through without even approaching the trunk.

He’s sure he surpasses the speed limit in his haste to just get this over with, pulling to a speedy stop at a gas station close to Gallagher. Aidan launches out of the car and yanks open the trunk as quickly as possible, offering Luc a hand to pull him out. 

“Sorry, ” Aidan repeats, grimacing, but Luc simply waves him off, climbing into the passenger seat as Aidan starts to get back in to drive, but pauses. “It’s about a five hour drive… Do you want to get some snacks?” he asks, glancing at the sat nav, and Luc shrugs.

Aidan returns from the gas station with an assortment of snacks and chocolates and hands the bag over to Luc as he gets back into the driver seat, and as he connects his phone, The Smiths instantly begin to pour out of the speakers as he takes off down the road. Instinctively, he goes to turn it off, but pauses. “Do you want music?” he asks, and Luc nods.

“Sure.” 

“Do you want to play something of yours?” Aidan offers.

“Do you like Debussy?” Luc asks, and Aidan grimaces, which he can only expect. 

“You alright with the Smiths?” Aidan offers, in lieu of an answer, and Luc doesn’t protest, so he leaves his music on shuffle for the drive.

Hours later, Aidan slows to a stop a little ways away from the entrance to Blackthorne in an attempt to avoid attracting any attention, turning off the car as the two get out to find a way in.

“I assume there will be security, although probably not a lot of it,” Aidan guesses, creeping towards the outer gate. “But, unless they’ve made some repairs since I was last here…” he trails off, inching along the edge, and finds the warped part of the gate he snuck through once or twice when attending. 

It’s a tight squeeze, but they both make it through, and manage to skirt around the edges of the actual building and head into the grounds, now overgrown with plant life. Aidan, having discussed the secret societies with Natasha, remembered that she mentioned the Black Dahlias used to meet near the lake –– it’s a bit of a longshot, but he’s willing to bet the Amethyst Nightshades met somewhere similar, so they head towards the lake.

The two are both on edge, Aidan receiving flashbacks at every turn and Luc picturing his brother roaming the grounds, but when they spot the lake they stop near the edge, phone flashlights pointing into the overgrown grasses. 

Aidan pulls up a picture of nightshade on his phone, turning it to face Luc. “So this is what we’re looking for, I guess. These little purple flower things––”

“Nightshade’s not in bloom,” Luc cuts in, frowning at the grass, and Aidan furrows his brow, waiting for the other to elaborate, which he does, after a sigh. “The flowers stop blooming in September. We’re either looking for berries, which might still be on the plant, or just the stems.”

Aidan grimaces at the ground. “Oh,” he utters dumbly. 

“It also typically grows in shady areas. So we should be looking under those trees over there,” Luc adds, pointing towards the small cluster of trees on the other edge of the lake. 

Aidan purses his lips. “You didn’t want to start with that?”

“I thought you would have done your research as well,” Luc comments, evenly, trudging forwards through the grass, and Aidan mutters a few choice words under his breath before catching up.

They spend a while just looking, a tedious task, but one that proves fruitful when Luc calls Aidan over and points at a small shrub under one of the trees. “That looks like it,” he whispers, and Aidan crouches, glancing between the pictures on his phone and the plant.

“I think you’re right,” Aidan nods, pulling a knife out to cut a piece from the stem and reaching forwards to grab it––

“Don’t touch it,” Luc grabs his wrist, tone urgent. “ Deadly Nightshade. ” he emphasizes with a small shake of his head.

Aidan snatches his arm back, instantly remembering going over the plant’s poisonous properties in training, flushing when he realizes how badly that could have ended. Aidan glances up at Luc, sick of feeling dumb tonight, and watches him pull a black glove on and try (and fail) to hide a smug smirk. 

Aidan sighs and stands up, watching his task partner cut a piece of the plant off and hold it up to the moonlight. Luc slips the plant into a small plastic bag, pocketing it, and the two of them head back towards the gate in silence, wary of being caught this close to completing their task.

The two boys manage to slip back through the gap unnoticed once more, and climb into the car, placing the nightshade sample in the cup holder for safe keeping as they begin the drive home.

They make the five-ish hour drive back to Gallagher in a tired yet amiable silence, Aidan finally acquiescing and allowing Luc to play whatever music he likes (it’s mostly David Bowie with a little bit of Queen) and before they know it they’re only a couple minutes away (might be due to Aidan’s tendency to push the speed limit, but it gets them home sooner, so Luc isn’t complaining).

Luc pauses when Aidan slows and stops the car off to the side of the road, seeming to realize he has another trip to make in the trunk, but Aidan doesn’t feel as bad about closing him in, still embarrassed from being outshone in the finding of the plant.

Aidan waves at the security guard as they reenter the school, smiling to feign normality, and as soon as they’ve parked the car, Luc leaps back out of the trunk with muttered annoyances and they head out into the school grounds to complete the assignment. 

After passing the smaller tombs, Aidan smirking slightly when he spots a tiny white graffiti skull he’d done last year that is still intact, they reach the largest tomb, Gilly Gallagher’s tomb,  and step in, glancing around to find a spot to leave the evidence. 

“How about here?” Luc suggests, crouching down and placing it dead center on the stone floor, and Aidan shrugs, at this point tired and over the whole ordeal. The sun will come up in a couple hours, but he thanks his lucky stars he doesn’t have any early morning classes. 

“Do you… Think that’s it?” Aidan asks as they step outside, eyeing the lightening sky. 

“That’s all that was on the card,” Luc nods, still looking back at the tomb. 

“Hey, uh,” Aidan starts, rubbing the back of his neck before shoving his hands in his jeans. “Thanks for not letting me poison myself,” he admits begrudgingly, and Luc smirks.

“I wouldn’t have been let back in without you.” But of course Aidan is more than that, though neither need to make it known.

STEP ONE: What the fuck is the plan?

When the girls got their cards individually, it was no question they both immediately went looking for each other, and had found themselves sitting in an empty room 407, thirty three minutes into a dead silence.

“So…” Elisa trailed, looking around the room awkwardly as her feet swayed from the closest bed.

“I’m thinking.” Regine had, of course, been thinking for a long time, chin on her hand and arm slung over her knee à la The Thinker.

“Can you…uh…think faster?” 

“I just…” she fell back in her seat, frustrated. The idea of stealing her old roommate’s dog, of which she lived with herself, left Rei desperate for a way out. The sound of her father’s voice in her head rang and echoed, she was a spy before she was a friend. “If we do it, Scoobs can’t leave our sight the entire time.” she was firm on it.

“Yeah, of course. I don’t want him to get hurt, or anyone.” While Regine was mostly trying to get initiated out of obligation to her bloodline, she also wanted to prove she wasn’t a punk. For Elisa, she thought she owed Gallagher for what it’s given her, for turning her life around, for creating a connection to her mother. She may not have seemed serious about it, but she was. Rei didn’t bother to ask. 

“Think you can handle me for 48 hours straight?” Regine cocked an eyebrow at Elisa who in turn matched her with a sleek, ambitious smile. 

“No.”

“Alright, let’s get to work.” 

STEP TWO: The Plan

They needed to find somewhere they could camp out for the 48 hour window they were required to steal Scooby for without being spotted, given Rei had planned an entire schedule of when one would sleep and the other would watch him. (She had almost rationed their food, but didn’t want to overwhelm Elisa). It was Elisa’s idea to stake out in the New Old Mill, since they could reserve the venue for events and meetings it would (hopefully) deter others from visiting it during a period that it was booked. Standing shoulder to shoulder in the hallway of the rec center, gazing up at the bulletin board that housed the sign up sheet, they both sighed simultaneously.

“We shouldn’t reserve it under our names. Cover our tracks, right?” Rei said, a bit unsure. Was Regine taking this a little too seriously? Probably. 

“That’s a good idea, yeah.” Elisa nodded, not bothering to look over at the other girl. Regine hesitated before shrugging, and grabbed the pen with her less dominant hand before stepping up to the sheet. It took a few seconds of thinking, but she realized they were on the clock. She pressed the ball point down lightly over the paper and messily began writing letters in every sign up slot over the next two days.

L-a-n-d-o-n B-e-n-n-e-t

When it came to stealing Scooby, it wasn’t hard to hack into the schedule database and find out when all of the students in room 405 would least likely be in the dorm room. They made a point to leave a note for Maddox, Regine insisted, in the cryptic form of mismatched magazine cutouts. They’d made it together, with thick latex gloves, for the fingerprints of course! (Again, a little too seriously). Scooby was happy to see Regine, which only made her feel worse, but they left the note quick and headed for the mill. It read:

I’ll be back in a few days, Dad. I am safe! 

- Scooby (x)

STEP THREE: The New Old Mill

Three Hours

Pizza’s halfway eaten. Rei realized too late that she’d left her laptop in her dorm room. They’ve played UNO seven times. Scooby won four of those times. 

Fifteen Hours 

The sun sets early and they’ve turned all the lights off in the mill with the exception of a few candles, of which Elisa thought would add to the lore. Regine was pulling on her pajamas when she heard spooky, muffled tunes and sprung to a turn, nearly tripping over her own pants. She was met by the harsh brightness of a flashlight under Elisa’s chin as the other girl grinned, playing late Halloween music from a cassette player.

“Elisa, no.”

“Legend has it—”

“Jesus Christ.”

In retrospect, the scary stories they told that night weren’t exactly ghastly, but Regine had the night shift and of course Scooby demanded a walk at four in the morning. What was she supposed to do, tell him no? She took him out back as Elisa slept, “Can’t you shit at a regular hour, like a normal person?” Regine grumbled as she rubbed her cold hands, and Scooby looked back up at her with his tongue hanging out. “Right, sorry I asked.”

Thirty Five Hours

They were having a staring contest. Elisa bit down to fight the laughter that knocked at the door of her mouth, and Regine sat with her back perfectly erect. 

“No laughing.” Regine tried not to smile.

“That’s not how the game works, Rei.” Elisa rebutted, cheeks rosy and quickly moving the stray strand of hair out of her face. “So are we like, friends now or something?”

Rei stood quiet. She had decided a few weeks earlier that she had too many friends and wouldn’t make a point to attain anymore. In fact, she’d made a few pros and cons lists on who she was going to drop after the New Year based on how much energy she had to exert. “Maybe.”

“It’s…more of a yes or no question, but okay.” Elisa’s fingers pressed into the arm of her seat as her eyes grew wider with restraint, trying not to blink. “But we kind of have this secret now, you, me, and Scooby. So…we’re, like, bound by that. We’re friends.”

Regine kept her eyes focused, nearly squinting, before the corner of her lips dared a smirk. “Friends then.”

Perking up, mostly at having finally gotten Rei to soften, Elisa felt her eyes come to a close in the process “Ah, fuck!” she laughed, only a little upset.

“Actually, you blinked about fifteen seconds beforehand, didn’t want to kill your vibe.”

Forty Eight Hours

When the phone alarm went off the whole room jumped up and they looked at each other, yes, Scooby included. Two full smiles fell on both of their faces, and then ran over and laid on the floor beside the dog to take a selfie (you know, for the memories). They sent a lonesome photo of just him to the number that had texted them beforehand, which they both assumed to be those who wore the masks at the intro meeting. Rei had recognized one of them, Elisa the other, and they contemplated if they’d address them by name in the text to be ballsy.

“You know, to assert dominance.” Regine said seriously. Elisa blinked, not quite sure how to feel. Not just about Rei ‘asserting her dominance’ but just the fact that they could address the two leaders - one of which had been her roommate and the other she was currently rooming with - with such bravado. But she’s long abandoned the urge to overthink the whole thing and continued to push down the awkward feeling she’s had for these last two days and get their task over it. They had sent a photo 48 hours prior of Scooby on their way to the mill, and had now dressed him up with a blanket tied around him like a cape, a masquerade mask, and a black dahlia flower between his teeth. The text read ‘It’s been fun. Thanks for the vacation, Natasha & Aria. - Scooby’

It starts with a simple note waiting for them in their dorms, telling each of the men to meet at the horse stables at midnight. The November air is chilly when the time comes; Clement, being the last to arrive, offers a small, hesitant nod to the other two. Things are quiet between them for a few minutes, words spoken teetering on the edge of awkward small talk and pleasantries, when a nearby horse neighs brings their attention to the stables. It’s in this moment that the others arrive, but they don’t see them as much as feel them, appearing from the shadows like a ghost. Each of them are grabbed before they even have a chance to react, and the last thing they remember is the fear of being suffocated with the wet rag placed over their face and trying to break out of their captor’s grip, before everything goes black around them.

When Parker wakes up, he finds himself on the cold ground, completely alone. It takes him a few seconds to groggily rise to his feet, eyes squinting slightly as he looks around at his surroundings. The view of the stables and Gallagher Academy has vanished and become replaced by nothing by trees in the dense woods. Swearing to himself, his first instincts are to reach for his phone, only to find that it’s missing from his back pocket. In its place is a note with the same paper and handwriting as the last one: 

Good morning. There are only three of you out there, yet only two will return, for the other will face drastic consequences.  The last one back on campus will be saying goodbye to the Brotherhood and something that could have been wonderful.

Good luck.

“Great,”  he mumbles to himself, sticking it back in his pocket. There’s nothing else in there, nothing to help him.

And then from a distance he hears it, a soft sound that gets louder the closer he walks towards it, and definitely human.  

“HELLO?”

He realizes it’s Clem before he can even find him, and by the time he does Parker realizes he hadn’t been alone in following the noise. For the second time tonight, Clem, Parker and Steve stand around together in the middle of the night, though this time it’s not as quiet as they bicker to figure out their next steps to take. 

But when it comes down to it, Clement’s the only one who knows the Gallagher forest.

"All we have to do is follow the trail that Clement set out and we'll be back in no time, it's starting to get windy so we'll want to move fast in case the dirt blows."  It had been Parker’s idea, and Clem had no problem going ahead of the other two, dragging his foot in the dirt as he paved the way for the two of them. They have to squint in the darkness to find it, but with nothing else around them to use, it’s the best they can do.  Neither of the other two wanted to be first.

Even though Parker had gotten off to a rocky start with Steve, and that was on him -- he'd admit it, he thought Steven had a good head on his shoulders and was curious what his opinion on all this was. They’re both quiet as they walk together, until Parker feels the need to break it.  "Do you think this is even worth it? It's pretty messed up what they're doing."

“Not at all,” Steve shakes his head, but he’s surprised because he assumed this would be Parker’s kind of thing. “Chloroform is a little too much, don’t you think? Can’t imagine what they have planned for the drastic consequences.”

Neither of them had realized just how big Gallagher’s campus was until they’re forced to walk half of it in the dead of night with the November chill settling into their bones. Parker goes to grab his phone to check the time, only to remember it’s still not there. "Looks like the trail is ending, you go first, I'll stay back to make sure we're not being ambushed." 

“That’d make you the last one,”  Steve points out. It doesn’t sit well with him to let Parker be on the receiving end of said consequences. “We’ve made it all the way here together. We should go back at the same time.”

"It's fine, I figured out how to get us out of here. We worked together, that's enough for me." It was two new faces that Parker trusted and got to know, and it was an interesting challenge (as fucked up as it was). That was all he needed from the Amethyst Nightshades; he didn't have a desire to go any further. 

“Ms. Martin, do you know why you’re here?” 

She ran her hands across the top of her legs, eyes casted downwards, and heart racing like crazy. She sat inside of an office belonging to a Threat Elimination professor, his hands clasped together and elbows leaning on top of his desk. His eyes were calculating, watching her every move, trying to figure her out. Standing behind her was a security guard who was also closely watching her. Even if Sunny couldn’t see his face, she could already picture the look that he had. Try much similar to the Threat Elimination professor. 

And she refused to look up at either one of them. 

“Ms. Martin?” 

“Y-yes sir?” 

“Are you going to tell us why you were trying to sneak off campus so late at night?” 

Right, that. Her mission to get into the Black Dahlias. It was supposed to be easy peasy lemon squeezy, that was what she told herself over and over again. All she had to do was sneak off campus, go into Roseville, and spray paint a simple dahlia on the side of a building. The biggest issue was supposed to be the spray painting part ( she was NOT an artist in any way, she was sure that the dahlia would come out looking like a bird than a flower ). Yeah, sneaking off campus was going to be a problem but she had it all in the bag. Well, she thought so. 

It was the day of her getting the mission that Sunny came up with the plan. Going out to Roseville whenever she wanted wasn’t something she had entry to as a second year. And it wasn’t like she could just ask a professor to go with her, or for an upperclassman to do it for her. The best plan was to sneak off campus grounds late at night and do it.

Gallagher was a gated location, gates reaching up to fifteen feet and little to no space for someone to squeeze through if they wanted to sneak off campus. It wasn’t going to be an easy task, Sunny knew that yet she didn’t let it stop her. She had a plan, not the best one but it was good enough. This plan included a tree and a spot that wasn’t checked on constantly. 

She found that spot too, with a tree that had a branch that seemed sturdy enough. Just climb the tree, carefully across the branch, over the fence, and boom! To Roseville. Easy enough? 

Wrong, wrong, wrong! Nothing was ever easy when you were Sunshine Martin.

Night came and decked out in a full black outfit, she slipped out of her room and out of the dorm towards the ~tree spot~. Being sneaky sneaky, she avoided the eye of various security guards until she came across the tree. Her getaway car but like… not a getaway… car… Yeah….

Anyways, Sunny started climbing up the tree, keeping herself close to the tree and angled so that no cameras could see her. All good, especially when she made it high enough. Slowly but surely, she began her crossing across the tree branch. And let me tell you, she was close, so, so, so close to nearing the gate and crossing over. But it was ruined when a security guard  ( some guy that actually wanted to check over in this area )   shined his flashlight on her just as she reached for the gate. 

So close!

“So,” the professor repeated, leaning forward as she leaned back into her chair. “Why did you sneak off?” 

Lips quivering and tears ready to stream, she said the first thing that came to her mind. “T-tinder date?” 

“In Roseville?” 

“Yes….” 

“With a can of spray paint?” 

“Y-yeah, it’s with this guy, an artist named Leonardo Di-Dillard. Yeah, Leonardo Dillard, we matched last week and it turns out that he’s this… contemporary artist. Like, he uses spray paint a lot for his artwork and he said that he wanted to go on a date where we… spray paint together. I have never done it so obviously I was excited but it’s not like I can just leave for a Tinder date because I’m a second year and don’t have the necessary clearance to do so. And I really like this guy and have never been on a date with anyone so I…” 

And just like that, Sunny Martin failed her mission, caught by a security guard just before getting over the gate. But hey, at least the security guard and Threat Elimination professor were no longer angry with her! Instead, they were both invested in her non-existent love story to the point where they were supporting her and Leonardo Dillard. 

𝟒𝟖 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍

with the black dahlia’s pledge initiation taking place a little over a month ago , the pledges very much aware that personalized tasks can be doled out at moment’s notice . this is exactly what happened to juno and mandy . unbeknownst to them , they are the first ones to receive and be paired up for the task .

they return to their respective rooms , each finding a note placed delicately on their pillow . 

Juniper Choi and Amanda Hill,

Your presence is formally required by the Order of the Black Dahlias to meet in the home of Gillian Gallagher on Halloween evening at the eleventh hour. To join the Sisterhood you must stay until dawn, or else you will never hear from us again. We will no longer exist and your claims will be a whisper in the wind.

Good luck.

soon after , juno is knocking on mandy’s door . they devise a plan and start searching for the late founder’s well hidden home . it won’t be easy finding her house . they’re going to need all the time they can get before halloween .

𝟐𝟒 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍

they spend most of yesterday searching for gillian gallagher’s home to no avail . they hope today’s the day and luck is on their side . juno and mandy need to find her house . it would be a shame to lose their spots just because they couldn’t find the late gillian gallagher’s house .

the two of them are up early . they’re going to spend all day searching for it if they have to . if need be , class can wait . but juno hopes that’s not the case . part of their plan relies on finding gillian’s house during the day and returning at night so that they won’t get lost .

after a couple of hours of searching , they find gillian’s home and conduct their own little reconnaissance mission of the surrounding area and the route . juno pulls up a map of the school grounds on her tablet and marked a couple routes that lead to the late founder’s home .

          “ well shit . we’re gonna have to spend the night here ? ”

there’s a reason why the house is well hidden and only fourth years are taken on a tour to the late founder’s home .

they return to school with the intent to meet up after dinner and retrace their steps . for the most part , the task very much present in their minds .

𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍

today’s the day . however , that doesn’t mean juno and mandy won’t enjoy their time at the party . they’re confident they can slip out undetected and break into gillian’s home . it’s no problem , right ? everything is pretty much ready to go . they’ve packed some things and stashed them close to the property . but for now ? they’re at the party . juno certainly doesn’t want the ppc’s efforts to go to waste . 

it doesn’t seem to be dying down anytime soon ,  mandy makes her way to their meetup spot . juno takes the opportunity to slip out undetected . she heads back to the dorms first for a quick change of clothes before meeting mandy at their rendezvous point . she’s staying the night so might as well wear some comfortable clothes . the sound of the party grows faint as they continue to venture further away from the chapel and towards gillian’s house .

10:35 PM . they keep their guard up move stealthily . the moonlight illuminates the area as the two approach the house . it’s like they can almost hear her cries . not one to be easily scared , juno pulls out her lock picking kit and quickly gets to work .

in less than ten minutes , the door creaks open and abruptly shuts . the sound of leaves rustling can be heard just right outside the window . while gillian’s home has been converted into a museum of sorts for fourth year students , it still doesn’t make it any less creepy . not with the odd sounds coming from god knows where . do they dare explore the other sections of the house ?

      “ this isn’t so bad , right ? ”

                       “ i think we’ll make it to dawn . ”

mandy packed some snacks . juno packed a blanket and her laptop . you never know if gallagher’s internet reaches this far . it’s worth a shot to have something pass the time . they’re a little deterred by the sounds . however , they’re not letting anything stop them . they will get through this . they have to . but they know they won’t be getting a good night’s sleep , that’s for sure .

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

they must’ve dozed off at some point . again , it certainly wasn’t a comfortable night’s rest . juno rouses from her slumber when the morning sun shines through the window . “ oh shit , ” she mumbles , sitting up . she quickly grabs her discarded phone to check the time .  7:13 AM .

“ mandy ! ” she calls out to the other girl . “ hey ! it’s like seven .  i think it’s safe to say that we made it through dawn . ”

the two gather their belongings . they don’t question how the black dahlias would know if they’ve successfully completed their task . word will get back to them . they have their ways . even with juno’s previous experience of being in a secret society in college , the pledging process pales in comparison to this .