Chapter 22 #3
Instead of responding, I kneel before the basin, the stone floor biting into my knees through my pants.
Small, gnarled roots protruding from the trunk form the bowl-like shape.
The slight indent remains unmarred despite Ansaldo’s claim that many order members over hundreds if not thousands of years have shed blood on this tree.
Ansaldo takes his place beside me, and draws the dagger from his hip.
No wonder he brought it with him; he must’ve known I’d want proof. Something Nonna likely told him.
Once I verify blood oaths aren’t real, I’m asking him about her.
He holds out his hand for mine, and I reluctantly give it to him.
Poising the dagger at my pinky finger, he says, “Remember, only one drop.”
Without waiting for a response, he pricks my finger with the sharpened tip.
I hiss at the pain, from the sudden fire raging through my veins.
But my attention is drawn away from it as the amulet against my chest grows impossibly hot.
I close my eyes at the sensation and open them to find pulsing colors blooming around Ansaldo, of all things.
Before I can parse out what’s happening, though, it disappears.
I don’t think I can keep blaming these strange occurrences on sleep.
My breath shallows and I blink hard—but the colors don’t reappear.
Having no idea what I just witnessed, I don’t fight Ansaldo as he shifts my finger over the basin. A single drop plops onto the surface of the natural bowl. My blood doesn’t linger on the bark; it instantly disappears without a trace. I squeeze my eyes hard, but it doesn’t reappear.
God, I must be imagining things…
“Now,” he says, pulling my hand away so another drop doesn’t enter the bowl, “promise something benign, something that’s unlikely to ever come up, but that will allow you to prove to yourself right now that we’re telling you the truth.”
I consider this for a moment. Feeling the weight of my switchblade in my pocket, I reach over with my other hand and take it out.
Releasing the blade and sitting back on my heels, I say, “I swear I’ll never maliciously stab my left foot with my own switchblade.”
“Interesting choice,” Cec comments, the first words out of his mouth for some time.
I ignore him, holding my breath instead. This is insanity. If this is the only way to prove to myself that Ansaldo is telling the truth, then so be it.
I stab toward my foot with the sharpened tip, bracing myself to nurse a bleeding foot and patch up my boot—but my hand stops less than an inch before it can break through the leather.
As if someone’s physically holding me back.
Glancing around, though, no one is close enough to touch me.
I try once more, with even greater force than before.
Again, something stops me before I can make any contact.
“What the hell?” I murmur breathlessly.
“As I told you, Miss Hawkins,” Ansaldo replies, “this is very real.”
I attempt to formulate another response beyond a worse variation of ‘what the hell?’, when he grabs the finger he pierced and pinches it over the bowl. One more drop falls onto the wood before I can yank it away.
“Ansaldo!” Bes practically growls, reaching for me.
Ansaldo releases my hand instantly. I fall onto my backside and scramble away from him, holding my bleeding hand upright. Fear grips me. What just happened? What has he done to me?
Bes helps me off the floor and places a protective arm around my shoulder with his good arm.
“What did you do?” I beg Ansaldo, wishing there wasn’t so much fear in my voice.
Ansaldo gets to his feet, expressionless. “You didn’t think I’d allow you into our secret headquarters without ensuring the order’s safety, did you?”
“Ansaldo, this is not what we agreed to,” Bes seethes. I glance at him, intense malice in his dark eyes for his uncle. He looks as if he wants to punch the man. I’d love to see it. In fact, I’d love to see him stab that gilded dagger into Ansaldo’s heart for what he did.
“I knew you’d try to sneak her out of here if I told you what I had planned. Especially with your soft heart.”
Bes snaps his mouth shut and gnashes his teeth, leaving Ansaldo to turn his attention back to me.
“Either you swear by your own blood not to tell anyone who isn’t part of the order about us on pain of death, or you’ll never be allowed to leave here alive.”
“Father…” Cec murmurs, then swallows audibly. Coward.
Bes leaves my side and takes a step toward Ansaldo. “I thought you were only going to show her the power of the blood oath, not force her to make the final one herself. Otherwise, I never would’ve brought her here in the first place.”
Bes once again trusting people he shouldn’t have. Though, I can see why he would’ve thought he could trust his own flesh and blood. Family makes fools of us all.
Ansaldo tsks. “We both know, given her lineage, she wouldn’t have survived long on the outside without our help. And we can’t afford for her to get caught with the amulet either.”
Given my lineage? What the fuck does that mean? My finger pulses with the accusation.
Ansaldo turns back to me. “If you swear this, I may be inclined to allow you to leave. However, you should greatly consider your family’s legacy at the organization.”
My family’s legacy? So Nonna is part of all this. The betrayal strikes hard and fast, leaving me breathless for a moment.
He raises his chin, looking down his nose at me. “As much as I might dislike your foul mouth and general disdain for authority, from what my son has told me, you held your own against the God Men and Mussolini’s Blackshirts. If you join us, you could make a real difference in the world.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “You force me to make an oath and then offer me a job? You’re certifiable.” Anger presses along my veins. “And no different than the God Men you claim to work against.”
Ansaldo’s eye twitches at that. “As I said, once you take the blood oath, I’ll consider your release. Until then, you’ll stay within these walls.”
Before I can conjure a response, he holds up a hand. “I’ll give you some time to think about it. It’s not as if you can say anything to an outsider anyway, since you don’t know the way out beyond the way you came in.”
Bes and Cec do, though. Would they defy Ansaldo for me? Can I ask that of them?
“The tree requires no more sacrifice from you,” he continues. “Come to me when you’re ready to take your oath.”
He walks out of the hall before I can argue the point, to rage at him that he’s taken away my right to choose by forcing my blood into some magic tree. A part of me might’ve considered helping the Order of Cavendi, was fascinated by the prospect. But now? Now… I may not have a choice.
“Miss Hawkins,” Bes says, standing before me and grasping both my arms. “I don’t know what to say. That was—”
“Brutish?” I suggest, shrugging him off. “Savage? A violation? I completely agree.”
“I apologize; I never should’ve brought you here,” he murmurs, hands falling to his sides.
“I’m sorry too, Hawkins,” Cec says, and my anger mounts. How could he just stand there, speechless, as his father said those things? “I’m spineless when it comes to my father. I’d like to claim I’m working on it, but he makes it impossible.”
Quelling the anger in my heart takes a moment. Eventually, I sigh, my ire slowly melting away. I used to be the same way with Nonna.
“How have you found another way to make me pity you? It’s not enough that you’re mostly blind, but now you have an abusive father?”
He grimaces. “Can I make it up to you by bringing dinner to your room?”
I nod, wanting him out of my sight for the moment. “You may.”
An almost-smile pulls at his lips as he turns on his heel and hurries toward the main exit.
Bes gestures toward the exit. “I’ll walk you back.”
I walk past him without waiting.