What Lies Beneath ▸ House of Anubis [1]

chapter nine. house of keys

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The morning sun streams through the curtains in our room as I sit facing the window, drawing a lily in my sketchbook as Nina finishes getting ready behind me. I saw a vase of lilies in Sarah's room yesterday and have been unable to get the image out of my head until I drew it. I think I'll give it to her the next time I see her. But if Nina and I go back, it'll have to be without Fabian.

"Ready to go," Nina says after a few minutes.

I crawl off my bed, grabbing my bag from the floor and stuffing my sketchbook into it. Glancing at myself in our mirror, I realize my hair needs another combing unless I want to look like I touched a tesla coil. Reaching for my brush, which is halfway off the vanity, my hand wraps around the turquoise handle, but it feels sticky. And I can't set the brush down.

"He's dead to me," I state immediately.

"Who is?" Nina questions.

I turn, showing her the brush glued to my hand. "Clarke. He put glue on my brush handle."

Her eyebrows raise and she laughs lightly. "You put glue in his shampoo and he puts glue on your brush? Messing with each other's hair products—now I'm certain you guys are made for each other," she teases, elbowing me.

Rolling my eyes, I concede, "This is pretty good payback, I'll give him that. Clever idiot. But if he used super-glue and it takes my skin off, I will be filing police charges against him."

"Mhm. Hey," she takes the book she stole from the attic during her initiation off her bed, "do you recognize this symbol?"

I look at it, head tilted. "Yeah. Kind of looks like the one on the back of the portrait."

"I knew it," she mutters, and then runs out of the room.

"All right," I say slowly, following her out with the brush on my hand. Downstairs, I pass by Mick, who's holding a bowl of fruit, and greet flatly, "Hey, Mick," before entering the dining room.

Fabian's eyes immediately go to the brush. "What happened to your hand?"

"Clarke happened," I answer. "Not important. I think Nina found something—about the thing."

"Can I see your phone," she asks, "to look at the symbols from the painting?"

As Fabian hands her his phone, Clarke comes in and laughs when he sees my hand. "Got yourself in a sticky situation there, Adams?"

I glare. "When this brush gets off my hand, you're gonna be in a sticky situation."

Amber mumbles from the kitchen, "Just kiss already."