Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Mason Crawford, the Earl of Brannelly, stayed at the fringes of the assembly as he always did. Most assumed he was a pompous arse by remaining off to the side, and he let them believe that. It kept most—though not all—at a distance.
He gave a halfhearted clap as the rest of the ballroom erupted into cheers when Melody Brown finished speaking.
She had served under his mother, who had held the position of elder for a handful of years.
It felt like a lifetime ago that his world had changed in the blink of an eye.
Melody had always had her eye on an elder position, and she was the type to do whatever it took to secure the role.
He wondered if she would covet it so desperately if she knew the truth.
Every decision Mason made, every word that fell from his lips, had been carefully and methodically planned.
He shared nothing with a single soul. If anything was written down, he burned it.
There was no digital or analog documentation.
It was all in his head. And it was getting harder to keep track of everything.
The lengths he had gone to in order to keep his plans hidden were extreme, to be sure.
But they had to be. A couple of times, it had almost gotten to be too much, and he had reached out to his sister.
As soon as he heard Ferne’s voice, he was reminded of what he was doing and why he had to withdraw from everyone.
If he made it out of this, he had a lot of explaining and apologizing to do. At least Ferne was too far away for London to hurt her anymore. She was with the Druids on the Isle of Skye. And contrary to what Melody had just announced, those on the isle weren’t about to fall.
And if they did, it wouldn’t be to London.
Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.
Mason glanced to the side to find Thomas Oliver motioning him over.
He could ignore Thomas, and a part of him wanted to, but the other part—the one that had shoved everyone out of his life—knew he couldn’t.
Mason put his hands on his thighs and rose to his feet before heading to Thomas.
Mason had known the elder for his entire life.
Their families had been close. To the point where Carlyle, Thomas’s only child, had been his best friend.
Had been.
Mason quickly squashed the pain that flared when he remembered the last words he and Carlyle had exchanged.
He had wanted to tell Carlyle and Ferne everything, but he knew they would’ve rushed to his side to help.
The only way he could finish his plan was by knowing that both were on Skye, where London couldn’t touch them.
The elder Oliver wore a smile as Mason approached.
Thomas was fit and looked a decade younger than his fifty-three years, with gray just beginning to show at the temples of his blond hair.
It hid the truth, just as his grin did. But Mason had learned to play the same game.
He was no longer the fool Thomas believed him to be.
“Thomas,” Mason said by way of greeting when he reached him.
“Good to see you, Mason. You could be at the front. Why do you sit back here, off to the side?” Thomas chided gently.
One day, Mason would get to say everything he wanted. But today wasn’t that day. He shrugged and shifted sideways to look at the crowd, his gaze moving over faces he knew, and others he didn’t. “I’d rather not be mobbed by those trying to catch my eye.”
“Sitting over here isn’t stopping that. You’re an unmarried earl. That puts you in high demand, my friend.” Thomas chuckled and slapped his back. “Come with me.”
This was the fourth time Thomas had asked Mason to leave a meeting.
They slipped unseen into the darkened recesses of the ballroom and then out a door into the back of the building that only a portion of the organization knew about—and even fewer saw.
It was meant for those rising through the ranks.
He and Ferne hadn’t been allowed back there, even though their mum had been an elder. There were strict rules.
Which was a load of shite. Thomas bent every one of them. He was one of those people who lied about everything. There wasn’t a single word that fell from his lips that was truthful. Mason had discovered that shortly before London kicked Ferne out of the organization—and the city.
It had been a blessing. They had always been close, and he missed her terribly, but the only thing that mattered now was her safety. And safe was something she wouldn’t have been, had she remained. He knew what he was getting into, and he did it because his parents needed justice.
He needed justice for them.
“There has to be someone who has managed to catch your eye,” Thomas said as he glanced back at Mason.
His eyes were the same blue as Carlyle’s. It was difficult for Mason to meet Thomas’s gaze, but he made himself. “Running the estate is taking up too much time to think about dating.”
Thomas shook his head. “Don’t be like me and wait too long. Find a woman and have children. You need an heir for your title.” Fake concern lined the elder’s face as he said, “It all falls to you now.”
It didn’t. The title would pass to Ferne’s children, but Mason didn’t say that.
Ferne was dead to the organization, banished and forever forgotten by them for daring to go to Skye.
It was a cardinal rule for the London Druids, and all because, ages ago, the Druids of Skye had kicked out a group of people.
Those Druids had eventually found their way to London, and their hatred had permeated through the generations with a vengeful, bitter gripe that never loosened.
“It’s difficult, I know,” Thomas continued. “I have no idea where Carlyle is, and the longer he goes without answering my calls, the more worried I become. What if he’s…there?”
Carlyle was on Skye, and Mason would bet his family’s title and estate that Thomas knew that. Just one more lie to add to the mountain. One day, he would tell Thomas what he knew, but it wasn’t quite time yet. He still had to play this game for the time being.
Mason drew in a deep breath and jumped in with both feet. “Carlyle wouldn’t do that. He’ll come home. He always returns.”
They turned a corner and came to a stop outside a closed door.
It was a room Mason hadn’t seen before. A frisson of unease curled through him.
Thomas had been pulling him aside lately for a reason, but Mason was always on guard for the unexpected.
There was no telling what the elder wanted with him, and he needed to find out.
He had been playing his part perfectly, but he was tired of being watched, tired of having his phone conversations listened to.
“I hope you’re right. I miss my son.” Thomas lowered his gaze to the floor. When he looked up, his brow was furrowed, and his lips pinched. “Let’s keep this conversation between us. Please. You know what will happen if…” Thomas shrugged helplessly.
“Of course. You can trust me. You were always like a second father to me.” Mason knew he was laying it on thick, but the event called for it.
Maybe Thomas had done the same to his parents. Led them to believe they were friends and then had them murdered. That was the type of person Thomas was, and Mason hated that he hadn’t seen it until now. He hadn’t been able to save his parents, but he would save Ferne and countless others.
Thomas swallowed loudly and ran a hand over his face. “Thank you.” He cleared his throat and pushed aside the false pain. “You know we’ve had our eye on you for some time.”
“Is this when you finally tell me who that we is?”
Thomas chuckled. “You’ll learn everything eventually. This is just another step of many.”
“Wait,” Mason said when Thomas reached for the knob.
“What is it? I thought you’d want to follow in your mother’s footsteps.”
Mason leaned a shoulder against the corridor wall, his disquiet mounting as warning bells went off in his head. “You know I do. This organization meant everything to my parents. I want to honor Mum and all she contributed.”
“That’s why you’re here, son.”
Mason barely stopped himself from flinching at the endearment.
“Now, come. It’s time you begin your road to being an elder,” Thomas replied with a smile and opened the door.
Mason called to his magic and felt it zing through his body, rolling heavy and fierce beneath his skin.
He could hold his own against Thomas. His father had spent years training both him and Carlyle.
Mason knew what he was doing, but that didn’t mean he was reckless enough to believe himself invincible.
There was no telling how many Thomas had recruited to follow him.
Thomas, or one of his pawns, would end his life. It was just a matter of time. Ferne would be alerted, as would a select few others. But he had left explicit instructions on what to do if he were killed or disappeared.
Magic filled both his palms as Mason turned the corner and followed Thomas inside the room.
Two men played billiards while another stood off to the side, watching the game with a tumbler of alcohol in hand.
Mason shot a quick look over his shoulder to make sure no one came up behind him from the hallway.
Meanwhile, Thomas greeted the occupants as Mason evaluated the room.
He knew all three inside. The two playing pool were a handful of years younger than Thomas and highly respected in the organization.
The other man, James, was Mason’s age. They moved in different social circles, though.
James had had to prove himself, as those who came from families with lesser magic always had to within the London Druids.
Thomas turned to face him with a smile and spread his arms wide. “Welcome. You’ve earned your way here.”