Chapter 18

My breath is heldas I listen to Jackson, Lucas, and Christian debate about whether or not I can go through initiation. Thankfully, it sounds like the society rules are on my side.

Lucas pushes out a breath. “Does anyone know where Roman is right now?”

“He said he needed to take care of some society business, and that he’d be back tonight,” I offer.

“Then he’s up north,” Christian says with a sigh. “Probably talking to the lawyer.”

Weird. Why would he need to be talking to a lawyer?

Lucas glances at me, but he doesn’t look happy. “Fine, we’ll initiate her, but we have to tell Roman. I’m not keeping secrets from my best friend.”

“He’s going to lose it,” Christian points out.

Lucas lifts his hands in frustration. “All I can do is make our case. But the second I text him, he’s going to turn right around and come home to stop this. So we have three hours—four at most—to pull this off.”

Christian looks skeptical. “Is that enough time?”

“It’s going to have to be.” Lucas looks directly at me. “Are you ready now?”

Uh. Wow. “Um, sure.”

“We need ten senior members as witnesses,” Jackson says.

Ten witnesses. This all sounds so official, and serious.

As they talk about the details of pulling this together, knots start twisting tightly in my stomach. I’ve been so focused on making this happen that I haven’t even asked them what the ritual actually is, not that they’d tell me. Everyone up to this point has been very tight-lipped on that subject. But Wyn said the ritual was rough.

“I’ll have a couple of the girls come in and help Lux get ready,” Christian says.

“I’ll round up the ten witnesses,” Jackson adds.

“And once we’re ready to go, I’ll text Roman,” Lucas says with a sigh. “Let’s meet back here in a half hour.”

Jackson and Christian nod in agreement, then everyone disburses, except for me. Before Christian leaves, he tells me to wait here. As I wait, a text comes through from Roman.

You have an appointment at 4 pm today with Dr. Lee. I’ll send the driver around for you.

Oh, shit. There’s obviously no way I can make it to that appointment, so I decide not to reply. He thinks I’m resting, right? I could be asleep. That’s a reasonable explanation. I’ll ask someone to tell the driver I’m asleep and send him away. No harm, no foul, right?

But Lucas is right about one thing. When Roman finds out what we’ve all done, there will be hell to pay. But maybe—and it’s a big maybe—once the initiation is behind us, he’ll cool down.

Why be angry about something you can’t change, right?

At least, I hope that’s how he looks at it. Who really knows with Roman though?

A few minutes later, two girls come into the study, and I recognize one of them as Lindsay, the girl who assisted me during Tyler’s tribunal. I’m not sure who the other girl is, but I’ve seen her around.

“Christian sent us in here. He said you’re going through initiation,” Lindsay says, looking a bit confused. She indicates the petite brunette next to her. “This is Sara.”

“Hello,” Sara says cheerfully.

“Hi,” I say with a forced smile. I’m too nervous to do pleasantries.

Lindsay walks over to the changing room that adjoins the study and disappears inside, reemerging with the same white robe I wore during the tribunal. “You’ll need to change into this. Everything off, underwear, too.”

Now that gives me pause. We’re only two seconds into this thing, and I’m already alarmed. The actual ritual hasn’t even started yet. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Just the robe,” she says with a reassuring nod.

I look between the two of them. “Can you guys tell me what’s going to happen? I mean, you know, woman to woman. What can I expect?”

Sara and Lindsay glance at each other, almost like they’re asking each other permission to say something. In the end, though, Sara shakes her head. “You’ll find out soon enough. It’s not too bad, though. Don’t worry.”

I want to feel relieved by that statement, but I get the feeling she’s just saying that to calm me down. And it’s not working. My stomach is filled with more than just butterflies. Velociraptors have taken over, clawing at my insides with their sharp talons.

You wanted this,I remind myself. You asked for it.

I gesture to the changing room. “Um, can I….?”

“Oh!” Sara chirps, anticipating my question. She motions to the changing room. “Yeah, of course.”

With a nod and a stiff smile, I walk to the small room and step inside, shutting the heavy oak door behind me. I lock the door, then immediately kick off my shoes, and then remove every stitch of clothing until I’m naked. It’s not a particularly cold day, but I shiver as I pull the robe over my body, the soft fabric cool against my skin. I still feel naked, even with the thin material covering me.

With a huff, I fold my clothes up and stack them in a little pile on one of the wood benches, tucking my underwear under my jeans to hide them. There’s no mirror in this room so I just have to trust that my hair is in place. Still, I run my fingers through it, only noticing then that my hands are ice-cold, and shaking.

There’s a knock on the door. “Lux?” It’s Lindsay’s voice.

“Yup,” I say. “Come in.”

The door opens a little, and Lindsay peeks through the crack. “Hey, the witnesses are arriving, and they need to get their robes on, so we’re going to move you to the main chamber real quick.”

I swallow and nod, those velociraptors ripping my insides apart. “Oh, okay. I’m ready.”

Opening the door all the way, she and Sara usher me into the study, and we walk to the back of the room, to a wall of built-in bookcases. They push the hidden door open and lead me into the secret room.

Lindsay and Sara pull a table into the center of the room. It looks like something from another century—all wood, with leather straps dangling on either side. The back looks like it can be raised, so the person on it can be put in a sitting position.

“What the fuck is that?” I know there’s fear in my voice, but that’s understandable, right? “It looks like something out of a Victorian psych ward.”

“It’s okay,” Sara says, adjusting the straps, so they’re draped over the table, instead of dangling. “We’ve all gone through this ordeal…well, the girls,” she corrects. “There’s a different ritual for the guys.”

Lindsay pats the table. “Up.”

“W-why?” I ask, suddenly feeling like I want to throw up.

Lindsay just pats the table again without saying anything.

“You’re not going to strap me down, are you?” I ask. The only thing more terrifying than being half-naked on a table is being strapped to said table. I still have a thing about being constrained, though I’m warming up to Roman doing it.

“Not yet,” Sara says evenly, giving nothing away.

Not yet.Okay. I can work with that. If the time comes, and I don’t want to be strapped down, then I’ll just say that. I’ll nope out. I’ll call this whole thing off.

I jump up onto the table awkwardly, then position myself so I’m sitting on the edge, facing the door, my feet dangling. With my hands gripping the edge of the table, I inhale slowly, trying to control my breathing.

You’re doing this for Bree.

You’re doing this for Bree.

I’m repeating that mantra inside my head when Sara and Lindsay move to the door.

“Wait, where are you going?” I ask, panicked. “Aren’t you staying for the ritual?” I don’t know either of them very well, but I’d feel better with them here. It’d make me feel less alone.

Sara half-turns to me with a smile that’s meant to be comforting but isn’t. “We can’t stay. We’re not senior members. But you’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

“Okay, but what do I do? No one—” Sara and Lindsay are out the door, shuffling off before I can even finish my sentence. “—has told me anything,” I finish with a huff.

Okay, no problem. I’ve got this. It can’t be that bad, right? I mean, Wyn, Sara, Lindsay, and all the other girls survived it…

I’m waiting for maybe three minutes when the door opens again. I sit up straighter as I watch several members file in, all wearing gold masks, and cloaked in the navy blue robes I saw earlier. They’re all chanting something. I try to latch on to any of the words, but the chant is in a foreign language of some kind. Probably Latin.

The guy in front is carrying an incense holder on a bronze chain that billows with white smoke. A musty sage-like smell fills the windowless room.

As they move deeper into the room, they form a tight circle around me. As soon as the circle is complete, the chant cuts off abruptly, and they all stand there in creepy silence for what feels like an eternity.

“Lux Anderson,” the incense person says, who I’m guessing is the leader of this whole thing—and obviously one of the Sacred Sons. “You come before us with the desire to become a child of the Society of the Burning Crown.”

I grip the edge of the table more tightly and clear my throat. “Yes.”

“You come of your own free will.”

Yeah, that’s definitely Lucas’ voice.

Another swallow. “Yes.”

“You agree to serve the order, to do whatever it requires of you without question or hesitation.”

Dear God. “Yes,” I say, practically choking on the word.

“Very well.” He bows his head. “You will now be given the opportunity to show your willingness to submit to the order. You may halt the ceremony at any point, but you will be escorted off the premises, and forbidden to enter forevermore..”

It’s clear Lucas has memorized this from a script that’s probably several generations old. I mean, who uses words like “forevermore” these days? I’ve honestly only ever heard it connected to old-ass poets like Edgar Allen Poe.

“Affirm if you understand.”

“Got it.” I clear my throat again. “I mean, yes.”

It would have been nice if someone had walked me through this process beforehand, even if they couldn’t tell me what the actual ritual is. To be fair, thought, maybe they usually do, but we’re a bit rushed in my case.

I exhale slowly as the leader hands his incense to the person to his right, then takes a chalice from the person on his left. Holding it in both hands, he approaches.

“You may drink deeply from the chalice of knowledge.”

Chalice of knowledge? Jezus. Tell me you’re a cult without telling me you’re a cult.

You’re doing this for Bree.

I take the chalice and hold it up to my lips, hesitating for a split second, before tipping it up and taking a healthy swallow. It’s sweet, like flat orange soda, but I can’t tell if it’s spiked or not. Doesn’t really taste like it.

I try to hand the chalice back to him, but he just stares at me through his mask, unmoving. After a couple of seconds I get the hint, and drain the contents of the chalice, then hand it back. He takes it, passing it off to the person on his left.

Someone leaves the circle and walks to the wall to lower the lights, then everyone begins chanting again, a low, rhythmic hum that lulls me into a sleepy, contented feeling, though, it could also be the drink they gave me, which I now suspect was laced with something.

I hope it doesn’t kill me, I think idly.

My eyes scan the circle, as far as I can see without twisting my body, and it looks like both men and women just based on the body shapes—some are short and petite, and others tall, leaning towards muscular.

As the chanting continues, I sway, the drink wending its way through my veins, spreading warmth throughout my body. One female member steps forward, and gently lays me down, which, at this point, I do willingly. She doesn’t reach for the straps, thankfully, but she unties my robe and spreads it open to reveal my naked body beneath. When she’s done, she stands by my head, where she stays.

Cold air brushes over my naked skin and I immediately stiffen, squeezing my thighs together, my hands itching to pull the robe back around my body. But I force myself to relax, focusing on my breathing. All they need is a show of devotion, right? So I force myself to remain still, and accept whatever humiliating thing they have planned next for me…