“Who would believe us?” I asked. “Jules doesn’t.”
He looked at me. “I didn’t say that.”
“But you don’t. It’s obvious. You think I have terrible taste in friends and really awful judgment and now you think I’m a total idiot for believing in ghosts.”
“I don’t think that,” he said. “I believe in ghosts.”
Oh.
“You do?”
“Yes,” he said. “We have one in our apartment building. We call him Henri. But I don’t think he’s ever tried to hurt anyone.”
There was a moment when none of us said anything. And that was when the door to the room opened.
“Honey, we’re home,” Hannah called. She rounded the corner and stopped short.
“Hi,” I said.
Hannah was dragging her enormous dress behind her. She draped it over a chair and looked from Jules to Audrey and then to me. “Having a party?”
I tried to smile.
There was something in her eyes that was dangerous. Her gaze poked into me like pinpricks.
“Colette, are you —” Pilar followed Hannah in, also carrying her dress. “Oh.”
“So,” Hannah said. “I guess maybe you’ve hidden your ball gown somewhere around here, right?”
“Hannah —” I began, but she cut me off.
“I knew you wouldn’t get one,” she said. “I don’t know how I knew. But I knew you’d let me down.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“You’re not sorry. If you cared enough to be sorry, you would have tried harder in the first place.” Hannah gave Audrey and Jules a once-over. “You’ve chosen your friends, I guess. Pilar, let’s go into my room and get ready. Thank God we only have one more night here.”
Pilar gave me a stricken look but followed Hannah. I heard her say, in a low voice, “Can’t she just wear a regular dress?”
The door slammed behind them before we could hear Hannah’s response. But I had a pretty fair idea what it was.
They came out of the room a few minutes after six, both looking incredible in their ball gowns, with elbow-length gloves and beautiful necklaces and their hair piled up on their heads. But they didn’t stop for our admiration. They sailed through the room, Pilar complaining that her gloves were itchy and Hannah fiercely shushing her and pulling the door closed behind them.
The air in the room settled in their wake.
“So what should we do tonight?” Audrey asked, picking up a purple feather that had fallen out of Pilar’s little hat. “It’s our last night in Paris.”
I glanced at Jules, to see if the words seemed to have any effect on him. He was staring at the floor, looking like I felt — deflated. Defeated. Dejected. All the depressing de- words.
At least you’re not de-ad.
“I don’t know,” I said. It seemed wrong to go around and act as if everything was fine when I knew it wasn’t fine. But I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving the city without … I don’t know, saying good-bye. Not to mention that sitting around the hotel room would just remind me that my two roommates might never speak to me again.
“We could go walk around a little,” she suggested. “Jules, want to come?”
He shrugged. I didn’t take it personally. It was hard to focus under the pall of a murderous ghost.
There was a knock at the door. Audrey ran to check the peephole. “It’s just Brynn,” she said, pulling it open.
“Hey,” Brynn said. She came in and looked around, letting out a low whistle. “Wow. Nice room.”
“What’s up?” Audrey asked.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “But you have to see this. Hannah and Pilar came down to the lobby in their dresses and it was insane. They actually attracted a crowd of tourists in the street when they were getting into their car … then Hannah tripped and almost ate it on the cobblestone. Thank God she didn’t see that I had my camera, but I totally got a picture.”
She held it up, but none of us seemed particularly interested.
“Sorry,” Audrey said. “We’re a little distracted. Trying to figure something out.”
Brynn looked a little hurt, so I reached for the camera to scroll through the pictures.
Yep, Hannah and Peely, looking exactly how they’d looked when they walked out on me.
Except — at some point between our room and the lobby, Pilar had taken off her uncomfortable gloves.
“Hey, Brynn,” I said. “Can I zoom in on this picture?”
She showed me how, and I zoomed all the way in.
“This isn’t the good one. What are you looking at?” she asked, studying the image.
Nothing she’d be able to see.
But suddenly Véronique’s meaning was crystal clear: she wants to break your heart.
“Um, thanks, Brynn,” I said. My whole body thrummed with tension as she took the camera back and then seemed to get that we were in the middle of something. She said an awkward good-bye and left.
“What did that mean?” Audrey asked. “What was in that photo?”
“I have to go to Versailles,” I said.
“What?” Audrey sat up straight. “What are you talking about?”
I took a deep breath. “It’s not enough just to kill me — the queen is going to make my punishment the worst one yet.”
“How do you know this?” Jules asked.
I knew because I’d seen Pilar’s forearm in Brynn’s photograph.
And there was a dark key-shaped smudge on it.
The queen’s mark — the one she reserved for the people she planned to kill.
“She’s not just after my neck. She wants to break my heart.” I began to shake. “She’s going to try to murder Pilar at the party tonight.”
“Can’t you stop them from going there?” Jules asked.
“I can try,” I said. I got out my calling card and tried Hannah’s and Peely’s phones. They both went straight to voice mail.
“We could try calling the security office,” Audrey suggested.
“No,” I said. “That won’t work. Hannah wouldn’t listen, and Pilar will do whatever Hannah tells her to. I have to go after them.”
“Now, hold on,” Audrey said. “Putting yourself in danger can’t be the answer.”
I thought of Pilar, cornered by an evil ghost in some dark, scary room. It was like picturing a kitten being cornered by a wolf. “I have to go.”
I saw in her eyes that Audrey understood.
“They must be halfway there by now,” Jules said. “And how will you get through security?”
Audrey leaned forward. “Were there tickets? Actual, physical tickets?”
“I don’t think so — Hannah said we were on the list.”
Audrey nodded. “Right. So she’s just counting on the fact that you’re not going — she’s not going to go to the trouble to get you taken off the list.”
Jules looked unconvinced. “Is there enough time?”
“I have to try, at least,” I said. “Besides, it might take the ghost a while to get Pilar alone.”
“You don’t have a dress.” Audrey’s face fell.
I turned to look at Jules, who had already pulled his phone out and dialed. “Mathilde,” he said. Then he spoke in French, his voiced hushed and urgent. She asked him questions, which he answered, and then he asked her questions. They seemed to agree on something and then he hung up.
Audrey and I waited breathlessly.
“Well,” he said. “Luckily, the boy who has the key to the storage room is in love with her. She can call him and have him meet her there.”
“How fast?” Audrey asked.
“Right now. She will be here in twenty minutes.”
“All right.” Audrey stood up. “Colette, do you need to do your hair or put on your eye shadow or … whatever? Sorry, I don’t know much about that stuff.”
With all the adrenaline rushing through my body, I wasn’t sure I could actually manage to put on eye makeup without accid
entally stabbing myself in the eye with the mascara wand. But I grabbed my makeup bag and went to the mirror over the dresser.
Audrey came over to me. “You don’t have to do anything crazy, right? Just keep Pilar from going off by herself.”
I nodded. “Right.”
“And don’t you go off by yourself, either. And don’t get arrested or anything. If they try to make you leave, then just leave.”
I paused mid-mascara-stroke and looked at her. “Without Pilar?”
“You can’t exactly save her if you get beheaded, can you?”
Good point.
A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and when Jules pulled it open, Mathilde came in, dragging a gown.
“You, out!” she said to her brother. Then she looked at Audrey. “You, stay. We will need your help.”
Jules backed out of the room, and Mathilde revealed the gown with a flourish.
Audrey gasped. “That’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen.”
It was dark-gray silk, but the color was more than just a color — it had richness and depth, like it was made of shadows. It had a low, square-cut neckline, and the bodice was embroidered with silver thread in a delicate vine pattern. It fit my ribcage severely down to the waist and then hung to the floor in long, gathered vertical sections of fabric. The sleeves were elbow-length and fitted.
When they finally got me buttoned into the dress, Mathilde helped me finish my makeup and teased my hair into a voluminous puff that surrounded my head like a halo. I handed her my hair spray, and she used nearly the whole can.
Mathilde stepped back. “Magnifique,” she said.
Audrey was wide-eyed. “You look like a queen.”
I tried to smile as she examined me from head to toe. Then I turned and saw myself in the full-length mirror on the bathroom door.
For a split second, I thought I was looking at Véronique again, and then I realized, this time, it was just me.
I really did look like a queen — or a duchess.
At any other point in my life, I would have been thrilled to wear such a gorgeous dress, like a real, honest-to-goodness member of the nobility. But now it just reminded me of what I was, and what my ancestor had done — and the terrible consequences her actions had brought about.
Mathilde went to the door and opened it. “She’s done!”
Jules came in and stopped short.
My heart leaped to my throat as I stepped closer to him.
He stared at me, almost in wonderment. “I feel like I should bow to you,” he said softly.
If I lived to be a hundred (or any age past sixteen), I’d never forget how it felt to have a boy look at me that way. Like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Audrey tapped me on the shoulder. “This is great, but you guys need to get going. Jules, how far is your car?”
“Very close,” he said.
“Bon,” Mathilde said. “Let’s go.”
“Wait!” I said. “One last thing.”
I reached for the medallion and slipped it around my neck.
Audrey cringed a little. “Are you totally sure you want to wear that?”
“Yes,” I said.
I wanted the queen to know I was there.
THE PALACE WAS lit up like something from a fairy tale, with spotlights illuminating the gold accents on the edges of the roof. The front gates were open, and Jules slowed the car and rolled down the window to talk to a security guard holding a clipboard.
“Colette Iselin,” Jules said.
The man scanned the list, then shook his head.
“Maybe it’s under Norstedt?” I said, and Jules translated.
The guard flipped the page and nodded. He handed Jules a piece of paper and waved us through.
We were in a line of cars, slowly creeping toward a long red carpet set up between a set of velvet ropes. Partygoers emerged from the cars ahead — most of them were dressed up almost as elaborately as I was, the women in ginormous dresses and elaborate hairpieces and hats, the men in frock coats and even bigger hats.
Watching them, I got chills. It was easy to imagine ourselves in some parallel universe, where people came to parties at marvelous palaces. I supposed, in a way, that’s how Hannah’s life was shaping up to be. With as much money and as many connections as she had, she could look forward to a lifetime of being handed out of limousines and sashaying down long red carpets, while admirers looked on as she passed them by without so much as a careless glance.
Whereas this was probably a once-in-a-lifetime event for me. Might as well make the most of it.
Jules parked, then came around and opened the door for me. He reached for my hand and helped me climb out of the little car. The piece of paper the guard had given him was my ticket. He pressed it into my hand.
“I think we’re in time,” he said. “Anyway, it certainly doesn’t seem like there’s been a murder yet.”
Yet. The word chilled me.
“I’d better go,” I said.
We stared at each other for a minute.
“I will park nearby,” he said. “As soon as you have a chance, call me. Mathilde put her phone in your purse. Just hold down number one and it will dial me.”
“Merci,” I said. There was a little quiver in my voice.
“Be safe, Colette. Please.”
I nodded, but I felt like speaking would give away how freaked out I was — to him and to me.
He hadn’t let go of my hand. He raised it to his mouth and kissed it lightly.
I gave him a small smile and pulled away. “I have to go.”
My head held high, I walked toward the entrance.
A security guard took my ticket and let me pass through a set of massive double doors. After that, it was a straight shot down the red carpet all the way to the Hall of Mirrors.
At the entrance to the hall, I stood in silence, looking around.
“It’s so beautiful,” the girl next to me whispered to her date.
Beautiful didn’t even begin to describe it. Without crowds of tourists, the room looked like it must have looked three hundred years ago … gorgeous, elegant, and transcendent. The light from the chandeliers made the golden walls glow, and outside the windows, the last purple clouds of twilight were fading to indigo. There were no party decorations. They weren’t necessary.
As my eyes swept the room, I had the odd feeling of not being completely sure where — or when — I was. Girls grouped together in giggling clumps, whispering and gossiping, leaning back and forth in a way that made their skirts swing flirtatiously. It could have been the year 1785.
Enough looking around.
I had to find Hannah and Pilar.
Voices hushed slightly as I made my way through the crowd, and I knew I looked like a duchesse. Somehow, Versailles was a part of me, and I was a part of it. Being there suddenly felt as natural as being in my own living room.
I scanned the room as I went, hoping to catch a glimpse of Hannah’s pale-green dress or Peely’s mauvey-purple one. The room wasn’t stuffed with people, but there were enough guests that I had a few false alarms — glimpses of similar gowns being worn by other women.
Maybe I was too late. Maybe the ghost had already gotten Pilar alone and —
No. I couldn’t let myself think that way.
I paused to take a glass of water from one of the refreshments tables, and when I turned around, I caught sight of Hannah and Pilar across the room. Peely waved to me excitedly, her eyes wide with disbelief. Then she pointed to herself, mouthed something I couldn’t begin to understand, and turned away.
“No, wait!” I called. I rushed over to where she’d been standing, but she was gone.
“What are you doing here?” The icy voice coming from behind me was Hannah’s. “I uninvited you. And where did you get that dress?”
I turned around, looking over her shoulder. “Where’s Peely?”
Hannah’s face darkened. “She went off with some Fren
ch guy. She saw a fancy piano and just about lost her mind. So he offered to let her touch it or something. You know how dumb she gets about that stuff.”
“But where did she go?” I asked.
Hannah drew back. “Why are you acting insane? I’m totally going to tell them you’re not allowed to be here.”
“Hannah!” I grabbed her roughly by the sleeve. “Are you not listening to me? This is important — it’s literally life and death!”
She jerked away and leveled a death glare at me. “You have no idea what’s important, Colette.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, just a little concept called ‘the truth.’ Ever think about trying it?” Her lips curled into a sneer.
The truth? Did she mean about the ghost? Or about … everything else?
“Colette! I can’t believe you came! You look miraculous!” Pilar had come back. I turned to her, so relieved I couldn’t speak. She was gaping at my dress. Then she glanced up and saw Hannah’s face, and her happy smile faltered.
“Oh, this is good,” Hannah said. “I’m glad we can do this together.”
“Do what together?” Peely asked.
“Hannah, don’t,” I said. “I’ll go. I just came to talk to Pilar for a minute. Then I’ll leave.”
“No, Colette, stay.” Hannah gave me a snide, narrow-eyed smile. “I think a costume party is the perfect place to expose someone as a giant liar.”
“Peely, can you just come with me for a second?” I asked. I took hold of her arm and turned it over. There it was — the dark smudge of the key symbol.
“What’s wrong? What are you looking at?” Clearly, Pilar couldn’t see the mark. She gingerly pulled her arm away and glanced at Hannah as if she were asking for permission. “Who’s a liar?”
“Our dear friend Colette,” Hannah said. Then she turned to me. “I know everything. I know that your dad left your mom. I know your mom works at the mall. I know you’re on scholarship and you just moved to some crappy apartment. And hello, all of your supposedly vintage clothes? Most of them are from, like, Sears.”
I stared at her. I’d had nightmares about a moment like this … except even my worst nightmares weren’t even close to being as painful and embarrassing as reality. I’d always worried that Hannah would treat me with disdain if she learned the truth. But the expression in her eyes went way past disdain…. It was hatred.