Chapter 9
EVELINA
As the car winds up the dark, wooded mountainside driveway to the looming gates of Blackbriar Hall, I feel like a condemned prisoner taking their final steps to the gallows.
My pulse jumps erratically in my veins, my heart beating against my chest like it’s trying to break free and run back to any semblance of normalcy.
This isn’t you, my heart screams as it battles to escape. What are you doing?!
Simple. I’m doing what I have to.
I got a text message earlier tonight from Boris, one of the handful of my father’s loyalists who ended up going to Russia with him when he was banished. Apparently, although my father is unharmed, someone shot up his car last night while he and a few of his men were eating dinner at a restaurant.
Not to mention, Diego’s threatened Roman as well. And Val.
So here I am, pulse racing, skin hot and sweaty inside the mask covering the top half of my face, as the black SUV rolls to a stop at the heavy, ominous gates.
The Uber I took only got as far as a checkpoint of Syndicate men at the base of the mountain.
There, after presenting my invitation, I was given this plain, featureless white mask and was transferred to the back seat of the black Range Rover, its windows tinted, and driven the rest of the way up the winding road to the very top, where Blackbriar Hall sits like some villain's lair from a horror movie.
The gates noiselessly slide open and the Range Rover glides through, making my heart skip a little as I peer through the blacked-out windows at the massive home.
The Gilded Age mountaintop manor looks something out of a nightmare version of The Great Gatsby—huge, towering, built from dark gray stone.
Its sinister appearance is made even worse by the low lights illuminating it from the base.
The flickering torches on either side of the wide stone staircase leading up to the front door don’t help, either.
I still don’t really know what’s going to happen here tonight.
But the internet is awash with rumors about it.
Some, like the ones that claim the Syndicate eats babies or engages in demonic blood sacrifice, I’m sure I can ignore with confidence.
Val told me before how he’s done some odd Syndicate work for his brother, and never once did he mention anything as insane as that. And he would have.
But mixed in amongst the wild rumors, I got at least some idea what to expect.
As a prospective initiate, I’m going to be paired with a senior member of the organization called an “Adept”. If I make it through the initiation, I’ll be referred to as an Acolyte, and I’ll be bound to the Adept who initiated me, sort of like a pledge in a sorority or fraternity.
What the precise initiation process entails, though, remains a mystery.
The most common theory that I’ve read online talks about Acolytes being forced to face their worst fears, or do something that terrifies them.
Like, if you have severe arachnophobia, maybe you’ll be locked in a box of spiders or something.
But it’s all speculation. In my hours and hours of combing through conspiracy theory subs on Reddit and on other forums, there wasn’t a single credible contributor who could prove they had ever been to an initiation.
Not for nothing, this is the other terrifying thing about Syndicate initiations: there are no failures.
Not because everyone gets in. But because if you don’t…well…
You can't exactly go on Reddit and blab about what you saw.
Because you don’t live to do so.
Allegedly.
Oddly, I’m not that scared about that part. Because one of the other common rumors is that the person who invites you to the initiation is your Adept.
Which means Vaughn is going to be mine.
Yes, that’s a chilling thought, especially after what happened in the woods, and the lingering memories of his vicious eyes, jet black aura, and slippery, bloodied fingers wrapped tight around my neck.
At the same time, though, we’re not strangers. Vaughn knows me. He knows I’m one of Val’s best friends. Tonight might get terrifying, and who knows what fear I might be forced to face.
But I'm positive he’s not going to kill me.
Masked guards, dressed all in black and carrying sidearms, check my invitation again before wordlessly waving me up the steps to the open front door.
Halfway up, I hear a sharp “Psssst!” Turning, I see a young woman in a white mask identical to mine running up the steps toward me. I’m in a black, long-sleeved warm-up top and yoga pants; she’s wearing black sneakers, also yoga pants, and a hoodie.
I mean, the invitation did say to wear clothes we could “move in”.
When she gets closer, I recognize the bright green eyes through her mask.
“Gabby?” I hiss quietly.
She flashes me a quick grin before leaning close and shaking her head. “No names,” she mutters.
I nod, shivering. “Right. Sorry.”
I gulp, turning to look again at the menacing, huge mansion towering above us. Two guards flank the massive front doors, both in plain black Bauta Venetian masks that cover their entire faces, the jaw and chin parts jutting outward.
“Creepy,” Gabby murmurs quietly.
I nod, shivering as a violent tremor ripples through me. I glance at her, my lip catching between my teeth. “Are you worried?”
She hesitates a moment, then shakes her head.
“Well…no. But…” Her exposed mouth twists as she lowers her voice.
“Okay, I’m sort of friends with my Adept…
the girl who invited me.” She winces almost apologetically.
“I know, I know. It sort of feels like cheating. But I swear she hasn’t told me anything about what might go down here tonight.
But we go back a long way, so… I don’t think she’s going to be that hard on me. ”
I exhale. “The stuff I read online…”
Gabby’s slender throat works. “Right? Demonic blood sacrifice? Cannibalism? I mean, that’s all bullshit, for sure. My friend would never be involved with that, let alone invite me.”
I nod. “Yeah, but the facing your fears part…”
“Snakes,” Gabby mumbles, shivering. “Motherfucking snakes. But my friend isn’t a sadist, so, again…” She shrugs. “I’m not that worried.” Her brow pinches under the mask. “How about you?”
“My fear?”
I’ve thought about that. I mean, I don’t love spiders or creepy crawlies. Not big on heights, either.
But I’m not sure if either of those is my “biggest” fear. I’m not actually sure what that would be.
Gabby shakes her head. “No, I mean who invited you?”
Fear coils and twists inside me.
“I—”
“Ladies?”
We both jerk around when we hear the deep male voice. One of the two guards at the front doors to the house has taken a few steps down toward us, his black Bauta mask chilling as he looks right at us. “The initiation is beginning shortly. It is not recommended that you be late.”
“Shit. Sorry,” Gabby mumbles for both of us, grabbing my wrist and tugging me after her up the steps.
The two men open the huge, heavy wood and wrought-iron front doors. I feel like we’re being ushered into a medieval castle.
Then we step inside, and my heart jumps when the doors shut behind us with a heavy thud.
“Fuck.”
It’s not until Gabby says it that I truly see where we’re standing.
Whoa.
I’ve been surrounded by wealth my entire life. So has Gabby. But the sheer opulence of the castle-like mansion we’ve just stepped into is next level.
“What is this, fucking Versailles?” Gabby mumbles. We both drop our heads back to stare up at the massive, almost triple-story grand entrance, complete with two curved staircases winding up to the second level and a fresco of angels and devils battling it out on the ceiling high above.
“Ms. Nikitin. Ms. De Luca.”
We both gasp at the sudden appearance of a man in a blood-red robe, a black and red Bauta mask covering his face and black gloves on his hands.
“Follow me.”
He bows as if he’s a butler escorting us into a dinner party, but it’s clearly a command, not a request.
“So much for anonymity,” Gabby mutters as we fall into step behind him.
He escorts us through more of the sprawling mansion, drawing us deeper into the ominous energy of the house. At last we step through a set of guarded doors into a large banquet space, the room ringed with columns, a balcony on the level above, and a glass ceiling above that.
At the far end of the room there’s a slightly raised dais. A simple black banner hangs on the wall behind it, emblazoned with the same venom-green design that was on the invitation: a dagger pointing down, surrounded by a halo of light.
There's maybe twenty other people dressed similarly to us milling around, both men and women. Aside from some super quiet whispering between a few of the initiates, the room is silent.
“What happens now?” I mumble to Gabby.
She swallows heavily, turning to me and shaking her head. “Not sure—”
We both jump a little at the heavy, rhythmic thunk-thunk-thunk. The man in blood-red robes who escorted us in a moment ago steps onto the dais, now holding a heavy staff in his hand. He taps it heavily on the ground again, instantly grabbing the attention of everyone in the room.
“Welcome initiates,” he says in a deep, bass-heavy voice. “In a moment, you will meet your Adept, to whom you are a prospective Acolyte. Some of you know your Adepts. Some of you think you do. Several of you don’t know them at all. But regardless of which camp you fall into, know this…”
The room is silent, every breath held and every eye wide as we stare at the masked speaker.
“Tonight is going to be one of the most difficult nights of your lives. The warning in the invitation you received was not hyperbole. Tonight will involve serious risk to your well-being…perhaps your very life.”
My pulse skips as a cold sweat creeps down my spine.
“There is no going back now,” the man continues in a voice devoid of emotion. “As stated in your invitations, attendance constitutes consent. There are twenty-five of you present here tonight…”