There was just one bartender serving drinks. She had strawberry-blond hair, barely-there eyebrows, and a smattering of freckles on her pale cheeks. Her name tag said LACEY. Sydney leaned over the bar, waving to get her attention. Lacey looked right past her, her hands flying over the counter as she poured several drinks at once. “Hello?” Sydney yelled over the music. “Can I talk to you? I’m Sydney Morgan!”
That got her attention. “The girl of the hour,” Lacey said. She deposited several drinks onto the counter before walking over to Sydney.
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.” Sydney twisted her ring. “You have to stop serving drinks!” she blurted out. “I… I didn’t plan this. And there’s no way I can pay for it.”
“Pay for it?” Lacey wrinkled up her forehead. “What are you talking about? It’s all prepaid. Wait—you didn’t know?”
Sydney shook her head mutely.
Lacey laughed. “Well, that’s quite a surprise gift. Exclusive use of our club, open bar, the cocktail waitresses—the whole thing’s been covered.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Sydney. “Someone must really like you.”
Sydney’s head felt as if it were about to explode. The darer had thrown her a party?
A chill snaked down her spine. The last time a darer had lured her somewhere, it had been to the Justice, and she’d walked right into a death trap. What if this party was another attempt?
“Oh, I should give you this.” Lacey grabbed a glossy four-by-six photograph off the bar. It was the same image that graced all the posters: Sydney in the snow. “Someone left it here this afternoon, along with the stack of posters.” As she held it out, a flash of black ink on the back caught Sydney’s eye.
A message. Fear zipped through her, turning her insides to ice. She wanted to turn away, run, but her hands ignored the impulse, reaching for the photo instead. The note on the back was short.
I always knew you were royal material, Blue. Better enjoy it…
Blue. Details crystallized in Sydney’s mind, one after the other. The photo taken by Guinness. The use of “Blue” in the Facebook blast. The spending of thousands of dollars as if it were nothing but spare change. And, of course, the Kyla connection. The world seemed to blacken around her despite the bright, flashing lights. It all seemed to confirm her worst fear: Tenley was right. Guinness was the darer. He must have written that note just to get her to the Vault.
She held tightly to the bar, suddenly light-headed. “Do you know who paid for all this?” she asked breathlessly. “Was it someone named Guinness Reed?”
Lacey burst out laughing. Sydney could smell alcohol on her breath. Apparently, serving didn’t stop her from indulging. “Oh, honey, Guinness Reed might be a charmer, but he would never do something this nice for a girl. Believe me, I would know.”
Sydney’s head snapped up. “What does that mean?”
Lacey rested her elbows on the shiny wooden bar. “He and I had a thing in high school. Maybe have one now, too, I don’t even know.” She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. From the way her elbows slipped a little, making her stumble forward, Sydney could tell it wasn’t just one drink she’d had. It looked as if Sydney was the only one not enjoying her own party. “He’s so impossible to read,” Lacey continued. “I don’t know what I was thinking hooking up with him again when he came in on Tuesday night.” She gave Sydney a sheepish grin. “We girls never know what’s best for us, right?”
Sydney couldn’t find it in herself to smile back. All she could think was: Tuesday. That was the night Guinness came over to her apartment. The night she’d lain in bed with him, kept him warm. It had taken all her strength to finally send him home in a cab. Or at least she’d thought he’d gone home. Apparently, he’d gone to Lacey instead. The realization felt like a hammer, cracking against her heart. It was one more black mark in the Guinness column. “I guess we don’t,” she whispered. The pounding music ate up her words, but Lacey must have been able to read her expression, because she shook her head ruefully.
“He got to you, too, huh? How does he do that?” On the other end of the bar Hunter Bailey yelled something about drinks, and Lacey gestured for one of the cocktail waitresses to handle it.
A seed of an idea began to take root in Sydney’s mind. Lacey had known Guinness in high school… which meant she’d probably known Kyla, too. The note might have been a false lead, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get what she’d come for. If Guinness really was the darer, the more she could find out about Kyla the better.
Sydney cleared her throat. Here went nothing. She leaned on the bar, assuming her best gossipy-girlfriends pose. It wasn’t one she used often. Or ever. “You know,” she said confidingly. “Guinness has been talking about Kyla Kern a lot lately. You know, the Lost Girl?” She was about to ask Lacey if she’d been friends with Kyla, when Lacey suddenly burst out laughing.
“Hi,” Lacey said dryly, offering out her hand for Sydney to shake. “I’m Lacey Kern. Better known in this town as Kyla’s older sister.”
Sydney gaped openly as she shook Lacey’s hand. The music seemed to silence, and all she could hear was that name. “Kyla was your sister?” she choked out.
“Miss Lost Girl herself.” Lacey’s tone was detached, but the sudden pain flooding her eyes was unmistakable. Sydney averted her gaze. The worst part was, Lacey didn’t even know the truth. Her sister’s death wasn’t some tragic Lost Girl accident as everyone said; someone had done this to her. And then it had been covered up. The thought made Sydney more determined than ever. Guinness or not, she had to find this darer—figure out how it was all connected. For everyone’s sake.
“So you were both close with Guinness?” she pressed.
“I guess you could say that,” Lacey replied. “I hooked up with him, and he pined for her. As cliché a triangle as they come. Tuesday night I really thought he was finally here for me. Then he had to slip and call me Kyla. Five years later and I’m still just her replacement.” Her lips twisted into a sad smile. “Don’t worry, I kicked him out after that.”
Sydney stood immobilized, her thoughts racing. After evading every one of her questions, why would Guinness send her to the Vault knowing that Lacey—his old flame and Kyla’s sister—worked there? It made no sense.
Down the bar, people were starting to get restless. “Are you going to serve us drinks or what?” someone yelled.
“I need to get back to work,” Lacey told her. “But try to enjoy your party. Don’t let Guinness get you down. He’s not worth it.” She started to turn away, but Sydney shot her hand out, latching onto her wrist.
“Wait. How do you know for sure that Guinness didn’t pay for this party?”
“This isn’t a little townie bar,” Lacey said with a smirk. “We don’t just take a check when it comes to this much money. We need a credit card, an ID, the whole works, even if the party-thrower plans to pay cash. My manager said the girl was actually pretty pissed off about it. She kept saying she wanted it to be a surprise.”
“A girl?” A powerful rush of relief flooded through Sydney. If a girl had paid for this, then the darer couldn’t be Guinness! All the signs had been wrong. “Do you know her name?” she asked eagerly.
Lacey shook her head. “I’d have to check the record book in the basement.”
“Could you go do that? I just… really want to thank her,” she added quickly.
“It will have to be at the end of the night.” Lacey nodded toward the crowd at the bar, which was growing larger by the minute. “For now, can I have my wrist back?” She glanced pointedly down at her arm, which Sydney was still latched onto.
“Sorry,” Sydney mumbled. She had just released her grip on Lacey’s arm when someone suddenly grabbed onto hers. Sydney’s heart leaped into her throat as she whirled around.
“Pretty jumpy for someone throwing a massive party,” Tenley said. She yanked Sydney to a quiet corner in the back of the bar. Emerson was waiting there, her arms crossed against her chest. She caught Sydney’s eye, then looked guiltily away. Sydney gritted her teeth. The last thing she needed right now was a rendezvous with Daddy’s Girl. Just being around Emerson made her old yearning to light a match return with a vengeance. “I didn’t realize you were such a party girl, Syd,” Tenley said. A waitress wandered by, and Tenley reached up and snagged a test tube off her tray.
“That’s because I’m not.” Sydney kept her gaze on Tenley, doing her best to ignore Emerson. “I didn’t throw this party.”
Tenley froze, the test tube halting halfway to her lips. Slowly, she lowered it back down. “Then who did?”
Sydney glanced nervously around the room, at face after familiar face. “That’s the question of the week.”
“You mean it was the darer?” Emerson hissed. Sydney forced herself to look up at her. She seemed unusually frazzled, her eye makeup smudged and wrinkles marring her brightly patterned silk dress. Even still, she was beautiful. It wasn’t hard to see why Sydney’s dad had fallen for her. The thought made Sydney even angrier, and she quickly averted her gaze, focusing back on Tenley.