35. Chapter Thirty Four

Chapter Thirty Four

Liam

A fter the amazing morning with Skyla and Asher, the five tiered cake and the fucking balloon arch, there was no way the rest of the day could live up to it. All good things must come to an end and all that depressing shit. Now, much like a few weeks ago, the others are getting ready for the party tonight, only this time, I’m the guest of honor. And I couldn’t be less thrilled.

The ride to campus was quiet. Ronan didn’t try to speak, and neither did I. I wouldn’t know what to say even if I tried. I have no idea what awaits me tonight, only that I’m sure I’ll never be the same after it. If Ash is anything to go off, that is.

Ever since his birthday, he’s tried to pretend, put on a good show. There is something shadowing him, plaguing his dreams, monopolizing every ounce of space in his mind. It’s heavy and dark and, fuck, he won’t let anyone in.

I begged him to tell me what happened at his ceremony to help me prepare, and he begged me to never ask him again. The way he looked at me broke me in two, and for him, I dropped it. Suffice to say, I’m shit fucking scared.

The walk through campus is long and quick all at once. Like a blur, I blinked and somehow found myself waiting outside the meeting room door, burgundy robe on and finger freshly pricked from the sign in sheet. I inhale deeply through my nose, exhaling deeply once more before nodding to the man at the door. He nods to me, pushing it open and revealing the room.

There is a table in the middle of the room, not like the one they use for meetings, or the stone one used during Asher and Skyla’s ceremony. This one is different, industrial, medical almost, with a black folded over cloth on the end.

My eyes roam the room, meeting the eyes of every Elder, including the newest Elder, Asher. My eyes come to my father, and he lifts his chin, as if to say straighten up. I do so instinctually, no matter how much I fucking hate the bastard. Finally, my eyes come to Asher’s dad, and he smiles at me warmly as Ronan moves to stand behind him.

“Welcome. What a joyous day for us to all be reunited in this holy room so soon. Gaining new members, new brothers, is a gift that can only be given to us by God himself.”

A collective nod waves through the room as Christopher turns to me.

“Liam Walcott, do you swear your allegiance to the Brethren? Do you swear to honor our ways, fulfill our practices and protect our secrets?” he asks.

“I swear,” I nod.

“Do you swear to slay our enemy when given the chance and keep our people safe?” he continues.

“I swear.”

“Do you swear to enforce all law whenever deemed necessary, no matter the task?”

Fear clenches inside me at that. I don’t like the sound of that, not at all. Fuck, God, if you’re there, please help me through this. I’ll do something…anything. Just…help.

“I swear,” I hesitantly answer.

Christopher’s mouth twists up like he didn’t like my delay, and I dart a quick glance to see my father mirroring his expression.

Shit.

Despite my hesitance, Christopher seems to forgive it because he nods to the man on this side of the door, ordering him to open it. When he does, a man steps inside carrying a woman. A limp woman. He lays her on the table before he begins strapping her wrists together beneath the table. Her legs are next, forcing her white nightgown to ride up and more than a few Elders to lean forward in appreciation.

Fucking disgusting.

Her eyes are glazed as her head lulls to the side. Her long black hair reaches almost to her hips, and the untamed curls looked caked in something. Based on the smell of her, I’d say it was vomit.

“Behold! A witch!” Christopher hisses, causing an uproar to sound through the room.

The woman’s eyes can’t move, though, it’s like she’s imprisoned inside her own body. This is a witch? This is the thing that our parents, our Elders, have been warning us about for all these years?

“She was a nasty one. Gave some of our own a rough time when they selected her, so not to worry,” Christopher says to the room before his hardened eyes come to her. “She’s been subdued.”

That’s obvious. She looks as if she’s been hooked up to a drip for days. Based on the condition of her, she could have been kept for longer. I know as well as any that there are many cells down here, and I’ve always been told to pretend like you don’t hear the screams. How could you ignore it, though?

Christopher’s hand goes to the black cloth, unwrapping it to show a gilded wrapped dagger. He hands it to me, handle first, and I take it slowly, looking down at it before up to him. I know what comes next, and fuck, I’m not ready.

“Liam, this woman has been convicted of witchcraft, what do we, as the Brethren, do next?”

“Death,” I answer hollowly. “Death to witches.”

“Maleficis esse mori,” the room chants.

Christopher nods in approval as he gestures to her.

“Cut out her heart and take a bite! Feast on the wicked to show you hold no fear!”

I feel my face go pale, I know everyone can see it, and I don’t care. Feast on what? He wants me to…to…cut out her heart and eat it? Just the very idea of it has my stomach turning.

The entire room stares at me with anticipation, but I can’t move. I can’t breathe.

“Son,” a voice sounds from the corner of the room.

My head whips around to see my father staring at me with malice in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything else, but his intent is clear. Do this, now. Do not embarrass me. Do not embarrass yourself. Do the Walcott name justice.

Turning back to the drugged out woman, I take a wobbly step towards her and then another before I’m next to her chest. With shaky hands, I reach out to her nightgown, ripping the front of it open.

Her breasts spill free, and I notice them littered with bruises and hickeys as several men holler out in appreciation. I can’t help but turn away, my entire stomach turning in disgust. Witch or not…this is wrong. To even imagine what she’s been through over the last…however long is unthinkable. If this was Skyla, if this was my mother… I…

“Are you having difficulties, brother?” Christopher asks, displeasure heavy in his tone.

I look up to him, my eyes burning as tears begin to fill my eyes.

“Are you not capable of protecting our people?”

I don’t speak, not knowing what to say, as Asher shoots me a panicked look. He’s begging me to do something, but I can’t. I’m frozen, no matter how hard I try to move my hands or my mouth, they are both glued in place.

Anger ignites in Christopher’s eyes as he sneers, stepping toe to toe with me as he lifts a gun to my head. I quiver under his hold as he turns his head to the side and scoffs.

“If you cannot do something as simple as rid the world of evil, then you have no place in the Brethren. Choose your allegiance now. NOW!” he thunders, the flick of the safety being turned off echoing in the silent room.

“I,” I pant shakily, blowing out a choppy breath. “W-will. I-I can,” I say a little easier this time.

Christopher watches me through narrowed eyes before taking half a step back, lowering his gun by his side as he gestures for me to continue. I know that I have no choice. I know that to refuse is to sign my own death certificate, and fucking God help me, as selfish and disgusting as it is, I choose life. I choose Skyla, I choose Asher. I choose me.

The dagger plunges into her chest, forcing her back to bow despite being heavily drugged. A spine chilling scream erupts from her as several men step forward, helping to pin her down as I continue dragging the knife through her. I’m hacking through chunks of flesh, bone and muscle as I attempt to make my way through to her heart. In minutes, I have her entire chest cracked open, a river of bright red blood pouring out of her body cavity. So much for witches bleeding black.

I grab her heart into my hand. A squelching noise rips out of her mouth as her body begins seizing. The warm, wet organ slips in my hand, forcing bile to rise up inside me as I begin cutting it out. Blood squirts me across the face before shooting out across the room. A commotion sounds behind me because of it, but I don’t focus on them, I focus on the task at hand with everything I have.

When I cut the last vein, freeing the slippery mass, I turn to face the room, holding it up in victory as the Elders roar in celebration. It’s a sound similar to a football game when the home team scores a touchdown. Varying expressions of ferocity take over each Elder as they cheer me on. Ingersoll looks downright feral as he mimics savage biting gestures. Egging me on.

I don’t look down at the woman bleeding out, she’s gone now, whether she deserved it or not I…I’ll never be able to say. Instead, I lower the heart to my mouth, biting off the smallest piece I can manage, and rip my head away, blood seeping from the organ down my face.

Another round of thunderous cheers practically shakes the room as Christopher takes the heart from me, sinking his teeth into it as he rabidly shakes his head, then gives it to Henry Parris, who does the same, and so on and so forth. Even Asher and Ronan take a bite, though they swallow it quickly with grimaces of disgust.

That was probably the smart move. I’m still chewing the gummy tissue, the flavor burrowing its way deeper and deeper into my tastebuds. Oh God. With all of my willpower, I forcibly swallowed the mushed up piece of heart, my stomach violently turning as I do. I feel it heave and attempt to push it back down, but I will it to stay, breathing through it until my throat is clear.

Christopher pulls out a ring, sliding it onto my finger before grabbing my arm and lifting it up into the air, much like the winner of a fight. Everyone is to their feet now, apart from Horris Hutchinson in his wheelchair, as they surround me, slaps of congratulations coming to me from all angles. Their bloodlust high really knows no bounds. I’ve never seen a single Elder behave this way, let alone all of them. My own father even comes up to me, cupping my bloody cheeks as he shakes me.

“I’m so proud of you!” He smiles, honest to God, smiles. I’ve never seen the man smile a day in his life. And he’s proud of me? For what? For killing a woman that, let’s be honest, may or may not have been a witch? For cutting her heart out and eating it along with all of these sick fucks?

I’m numb in shock, and thankfully, everyone begins filing out of the room, no doubt to go get cleaned up for the party. Ronan swoops in, grabbing me by the arm as he practically yanks me out of the room, Asher hot on our heels. We walk for a while before he pushes us into a room I’ve never been into. It’s a bathroom with a full walk in shower, a deep soaker tub with a sink and toilet.

Ronan quickly turns on the water to the shower and I numbly walk towards it. Asher undoes my sash, but I don’t reach for it, instead, I let it fall to the ground. When I step into the water, it feels cold. I try to turn it up, but still, I feel nothing. Hotter and hotter, I try, but nothing gets through.

I feel Asher’s hand come to my back, and just at that single touch, I collapse. My body hits the tiled floor as I curl up into a ball and sob. Asher tosses his robe to the side, diving to the floor beside me as he gathers me into his arms. I come to him quickly, letting out sob after sob as I cling to him. He shushes me softly, kissing my forehead over and over again as he rocks us.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re safe, baby. You’re safe.”

“She’s not,” I choke out. “She’s dead. I killed her!” I rasp before another pitiful sob tears through me.

Asher cups my cheeks, holding me tight as he looks into my eyes.

“You made a choice. She was going to die regardless, as soon as the Brethren saw her, she was done. You had a choice to live or die tonight, you chose to live. You chose to stay. Stay for Skyla, stay for me. You did the right thing, you hear me?” he asks.

I don’t speak, and he winds back his hand, smacking me across the face.

“Do you goddamn hear me? The right choice is always to keep yourself safe, to keep yourself with me. You don’t feel guilty for one fucking second, alright? I almost lost you in there, Skyla almost lost you. I could feel it, practically see it and—”

Asher’s voice wavers for a second as he bites his lip and shakes his head.

“Don’t you ever fucking do that to me again, alright? You never force me to witness you with a gun to your head again, Liam? We won’t survive it. I—”

His words break off as he shakes his head and holds me tighter than before, rocking us quickly as his shoulders shake silently. I feel my tears begin to dry up, and my eyes come to see Ronan watching me with a brokenness in his gaze. He shakes his head in sorrow, like he wishes he could fix things, protect us. He’s always been able to before, ever since we were babies, he’s always looked out for us, but now…this…this is something no one could have prepared me for, no one could have protected me from.

Looking up to Asher, I pull his head down to mine, smashing our lips together. He doesn’t move, but then again, I don’t need him to. I just need to feel…something, anything. So, we sit there under what feels like freezing water, our mouths pressed to one another for countless minutes, hours, whatever it is, trying to feel, to cope and then to bottle this night way the fuck up.