The Hawthorne Legacy (The Inheritance Games #2)(45)

Max dismounted, and everyone crowded around me.

“Take the back off the frame,” Xander said immediately.

I looked up at him. “We’re going to need a screwdriver.”





Four minutes later, all five of us were sequestered in the third-floor room that had once belonged to Skye. I removed the final screw and lifted the back off the frame. Beneath it, behind the picture of Toby, Zara, and Skye, I found a piece of notebook paper folded in half. Inside, there was another picture.

This photo had clearly been taken around the same time as the one that had been on display in the frame. Zara and Skye were wearing the same jackets. They both looked to be teenagers. Zara had one arm around Skye and the other around a boy who looked slightly older than either of them. He had shaggy hair and a killer smile.

I turned the picture over. There was no caption on the back. Max bent to pick up the piece of paper that had been folded over the photo.

“Blank,” she said.

“For now,” Xander corrected.

Max didn’t get the implication right away. She wasn’t used to the Hawthornes and their games. “Invisible ink?” Rebecca asked, before I could. “On either the picture or the paper it was wrapped in?”

“Almost certainly,” Xander replied. “But do you know how many different kinds of invisible ink there are?”

“A lot?” Thea said dryly.

Xander blew out a long breath. “My guess is that this is only half a clue. The old man left half to Skye and half to—”

“Zara,” I finished. “The ring.” Carefully, I took the blank page from Max. I had no idea how we were supposed to use a ring to make writing appear on this page, but I could see the logic in what Xander was saying. It was Hawthorne logic.

Tobias Tattersall Hawthorne logic.

He gave himself that middle name as a signal that he intended to leave them all in tatters. He used that name to sign a will and buried clues in the will for his daughters. I’d known that this game hadn’t originally been meant for us. I’d known we were here to find Skye’s clue. But now I had to wonder.

“What do you think this picture would mean to Skye?” I asked, holding up the photo that had been hiding behind Tobias Hawthorne’s smiling children. Skye, Zara, and a guy. “Who is he?” I asked, and then I thought about the message we’d found in the bottle hidden under the floorboards in the passage between Skye’s room and Zara’s.

You knew, and you did it anyway. I will never forgive you for this.

“My psychic senses,” Max announced, “are now attuned to that picture, and I’m getting some pretty clear messages about communing and abs.”

They fought over a boy, I thought. The same way Jameson and Grayson had over Emily Laughlin.

“Jameson just gave you this?” Xander flopped down on the bed. “He found it and just gave it to you?”

I nodded. I could tell it bothered Xander that he hadn’t been the one to find the clue.

“And where is Jameson now?” Xander asked, sounding a little more mutinous than I’d ever heard him.

I cleared my throat. “He challenged Grayson to something called a Drop.”

“Without me?” Now Xander sounded downright offended. “He gave you this and challenged Grayson to a Drop?” Xander bounded to his feet. “That’s it. The gloves are coming off. No more Mr. Nice Xander. Avery, can I see that picture?”

I handed him the photograph of Zara, Skye, and the boy with the shaggy hair. A second later, Xander was on his way out the door.

“Where are you going?” Rebecca and I called after him in unison.

Max jogged to catch up. “Where are we going?” she corrected.

Xander glowered at us—though it wasn’t a terribly convincing glower. “To the lodge.”





CHAPTER 44


Somehow I talked Alisa into okaying another little venture: one last photo op. Oren wasn’t thrilled, but I got the distinct feeling this wasn’t his first time securing a trip to the lodge at the base of the mountain.

“My grandfather outlawed the Drop when I was around twelve,” Xander announced in the SUV on the way down. “Too many broken bones.”

“Because that’s not concerning or anything,” Max said cheerfully.

“Hawthornes,” Thea scoffed.

“Be nice.” Rebecca gave her a look.

“It’s just a friendly game of ski-lift chicken,” Xander assured us. “You ride the lift up, until someone calls ‘drop.’ And then you”—Xander shrugged—“drop.”

“As in jump off the lift?” I stared at him.

“The first person to call is the challenger. If the other person declines, the challenger has to drop. If the other person accepts the challenge, they drop and get a fifteen-second head start in the race.”

“The race?” Max and I said in unison.

“To the bottom,” Xander clarified.

“That is the single dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” I told Xander.

“Maybe,” Xander replied stubbornly. “But as soon as we’ve finished at the lodge, I’ve got winner.”





At the lodge, we were escorted through the main dining room to a private alcove overlooking the slopes beyond. Two of Oren’s men took position at the door while my head of security stayed glued to me.