Secret Society Girl by Diana Peterfreund

his head. ―I can‘t. I‘m sorry. It‘s too late.‖

    ―What do you mean?‖

    ―They will try to silence you.‖

    My mouth went dry, and for a second I believed him. After all, I‘d just had my digits inside a dead man‘s eye sockets. These people used human skulls as light fixtures; maybe they should be taken seriously. And then I remembered Malcolm and his clumsy letter delivery that afternoon.
    These weren‘t omnipotent officials, they were college kids. If something happened to me, they wouldn‘t get away with it. Lydia, at least, knew where I‘d gone tonight.

    ―You people talk big, but you don‘t have anything to back it up.‖

    ―So you‘ve always expressed.‖ He smiled then, an ill-tempered grimace, and in the strange, angled light, he resembled the evil emperor from Star Wars .

    Uh-oh, Amy. This guy doesn"t want to help you.

    ―You gave us a challenge at your interview,‖ he went on. ―And Diggers don‘t take things lying down. You‘re here to learn a lesson, Amy Haskel.‖ The door behind me flew open. ―I got her, guys,‖ I heard him say as both of my arms were twisted behind my back, firmly, but not uncomfortably, and the first figure prodded me between my shoulder blades to make me march.

    ―Time for the Grand Tour.‖

    ―This is assault,‖ I said. ―I‘m going to scream.‖

    ―If anyone could hear you, which they can‘t, do you think they‘d react to it? A scream coming from the Rose & Grave tomb on Initiation Night?‖ A few of the figures surrounding me laughed.

    Fear skittered down my spine and my skin began to crawl everywhere my captors were touching me. This had to be a joke, right? Part of the initiation game. But then again, I‘d heard stories about Diggers and their run-ins with the law. Somehow, the power of Rose & Grave prevailed and the members wormed their way out of all charges. Some people said the society owned the police.

    ―Where‘s Malcolm?‖ I asked, in a voice far more devoid of snark than I‘d been using a few moments earlier. Malcolm Cabot was a governor‘s son—he wouldn‘t be party to anything too illegal, right? Unless you believed the legends that said the society owned the whole government as well.

    ―He‘ll be around…eventually. Now shut up and enjoy the ride.‖

    With that, they shoved me forward into the waiting arms of another group, who spun me around, lifted me up, and deposited me not-so-gently onto a hard, flat surface.

    ―You‘re destined for a pauper‘s grave.‖

    For a moment, I thought they were letting me go. Boy, was I wrong—a point that became clear a few seconds later when they closed a lid in my face. I tried to move, but the walls closed tight around me on all sides. I could feel sanded wood a few inches from my shoulders, above my head, and most noticeably, right beyond my nose.

    They"d put me in a coffin.

    I pounded on the lid, but it was closed shut. ―Let me out! Let me out, you sons of bitches!‖ I screamed, kicking my legs. They responded by turning me over. I tumbled around, hoping at once that the movement would knock a few screws loose and also that it was sturdy enough not to spill me out without warning.

    ―You don‘t take us seriously enough, Neophyte Haskel,‖ said Darth Digger. His voice was muffled through the coffin, but I recognized it now. He was the jerk from my interview. The one who kept arguing with Malcolm about not letting me in the society.

    ―I promise you, I‘ve learned my lesson!‖ I pounded the coffin lid for emphasis.

    ―You belittle us,‖ he went on, as if he didn‘t hear. ―You ridicule us. You challenge us. You call our Sacred Vestments costumes ….‖

    ―Well, you dress like extras at a D&D convention.‖

    They shook the coffin, which shut me up.

    ―Before this night is over, Neophyte, you will learn respect for your Elders.‖

    I bit my tongue to keep from pointing out that I didn‘t count a few months as a generation gap.
    They‘d been carrying