45. Summer
I stood there,my arms clasped across my chest, shaking. The water of the marsh came up to my thighs—I was naked, except for a pair of black lace underwear and a black strip of cloth across my breasts. My hair was in a tangled mess across my shoulders and down my back. It clung to the side of my face, sticky from the heat, even though it was night.
The swamp was a chorus and buzz from the bugs; and the grey, skeletal trees that Greybone Island was known for looked like bony arms jutting from the water.
Before me stood two men. Next to them—an ancient, clawed tub.
One of the men I recognized—it was Fallon. His pale skin was a stark contrast to the darkness of the night, and his eyes penetrated through me.
He was wearing his cassock and in his hands was a vial of oil and what looked like a crown of deer antlers. He raised his hand, beckoning me close. My teeth shivered, my whole body trembling—not from cold but from nerves and fear. “Come, Summer Duvall.” His voice boomed over the marsh and towards the large group of people on the shore—watching us.
I stood there, frozen, just like I had at my father’s funeral.
He stepped forward, his touch on my arm surprisingly quiet and gentle, “It’ll be okay, I swear.”
I didn’t believe him.
I shook my head. “No-o.”
He glanced towards the crowded shore, then at the man beside him.
This guy was wearing a mask, and I recognized him from the masquerade. It had only been three days since that fateful night but it felt like a month. I’d been kept in a bare room in the Blackthorne chapel furnished with only a bed and a bathroom. With no stimulation, except for a silent woman in a plain, black gown who’d brought me food three times a day.
I hadn’t seen Rook, and my fear warred with my anger the whole time. Where was he? Had they hurt him? Killed him? Or had he run off and abandoned me?
My thoughts weren’t making much sense, I knew that, but I couldn’t help it.
I was afraid and alone, my anxiety running loose inside my mind.
The man in the mask also stepped forward. The mask was the same from the masquerade—a plague doctor’s mask. He also had the same iPad clutched in his fingers.
The dark, soulless eyes from his mask made me stumble backwards, though I managed to keep my balance and my arms over my chest.
“Summer,” the man spoke. Reaching out, he took my fingers and squeezed them in a comforting gesture. The voice was somewhat familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. I stared into the blackness of his obscured eyes, trying to figure out where I knew that voice.
There was movement in the crowd behind me—I could sense it. They were growing restless.
I didn’t know what the consequences would be if I didn’t do as they asked, but I knew it wouldn’t be good. I remembered Saul’s words: alligators can hold their breath for almost an hour.
Was there something in these waters, lurking? Waiting for an opportune moment?
The thought only made the pounding in my heart increase.
Oh god oh god oh god…
Suddenly, Fallon stepped behind the masked man, as if to block him off from the crowd, and the man’s hand went to his face. He slowly pulled off his mask, only enough so that I could recognize him.
My lips parted in surprise. “Hawke.”
He met my gaze, his expression serious, but not without compassion. “I’m the official Lorekeeper. I keep records of every official meeting. That’s my responsibility in the veritas—but no one knows this, except for Fallon. Not even Rook. You understand?
I nodded, my teeth still clattering, though the shaking was starting to calm down.
“I’m showing you my face only because I trust you.” He paused, his gaze straight into my soul. “And I want you to know that you can trust me, too. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”
I hesitated, then nodded, “Yes.”
“I swear to you that nothing terrible will happen tonight. You may get hurt, but everything will be okay. I swear it,” he said, holding out his hand to me.
Though my heart was pounding, I decided to trust him. My hand met his and he led me towards the tub. I stilled when I saw what was in it—bobbing human skulls in black water.
“It’s okay,” he encouraged, urging me to get in.
Inhaling a deep breath, I climbed over and into the tub while he adjusted his mask back on.
When I was in, and Hawke’s face was once again covered, Fallon turned back towards us. Hawke held out his hand, and Fallon placed the crown in it. Fallon then dipped some oil on his thumb, and traced it over my forehead in the sign of a cross.
“Bathed in the darkness, I consecrate you in the blood and sins of this generation. Are you prepared?”
I nodded, “Ye-es.”
He pulled a knife from his cassock and my heart began to pound again.
“Give me your hand,” Fallon said and, even though my whole body was shaking, I held it out.
A slice of pain. He squeezed it tight. Blood dripped into the water.
Water from the bath poured over me, making me shiver in disgust.
“I baptize you in the name of God the Father, the Son, Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Spirit that watches over the Obscura Veritas. From henceforth, you will be one with them, and they, one with you. Do you accept?”
NO! I wanted to yell. To scream and shout it from the top of my lungs. To turn into a bird and fly away. To escape this horrible world.
“Summer, accept the promise,” Hawke said, the warning clear in his tone. If I didn’t, they would kill me.
I forced the words through my lips. “I accept.”
Fallon nodded. “Good. From henceforth, you will be known to the Obscura Veritas, where shadows birth secrets, and darkness conceals the truth. You now reside in the veiled path, and may their shadow follow your every move.”
God.
Hawke handed over the deer antlers, then began typing on the iPad while Fallon solemnly placed them on my head. “Welcome to the internum-sanctua of the Veritas.”
They felt heavy, and my shoulders and head slumped with the weight.
I was still shivering, my whole body rebelling against what I’d just done.
Fallon gave me a pained but sympathetic look. I would imagine that some people would be elated to have joined this secret world of power and corruption, but he knew I was not one of those people. He held out his hand, “Come. They will seal the baptism now.”
I followed him out of the water, with Hawke close behind me in that creepy mask.
I felt sick inside, like I was filled with darkness and evil. And now, I was a part of this…this society…forever.
I wanted to vomit. To spew out everything vile now inside me.
I hated myself for falling for their sick, twisted games.
I now saw how they played me like a fool, slowly reeling me in under their control.
And yet, I’d chosen this, and I had to live with that consequence. I shook myself of my pity party, and walked towards them. Carried myself with my head held high, not allowing them to see my inner turmoil.
We were approaching a large crowd of men and women, at least a hundred, or maybe even more. They stood in a half circle facing me. Behind them, a burning pyre of wood.
I met Olivia’s gaze; she was standing in the reeds with a black robe, draping it over me as I rose from the marsh, my feet muddy and the palm of my hand aching.
Clutching me by my shoulders, she turned me towards the crowd. “Behold, the newest handshade of the Obscura Veritas.”
A roar went up, a dark intonation of a foreign chant I couldn’t understand.
All eyes were on me, and as my gaze caught on the crowd, a chill moved up my spine.
This was the true face of the society.
Their formal attire, adorned with intricate embroidery and shimmering jewels, stood out against their bare feet and the wildness of their appearance. Horns and antlers sprouted from their heads like a crown. The fur and animal hides covered the top of their faces, with the eyes cut out.
My eyes scanned them—looking for the familiar wolf mask—and my heart sank. I didn’t see Rook anywhere.
* * *
Their voices grew louder,their feet stomping in the squelching mud of the marsh.
Beneath the facade, there is only primal chaos. Scratch at the surface and you see the animal—words Rook had said over and over.
My stomach revolted, my blood freezing in my veins but I met each and every one of their gazes. Because fuck all of them. Fuck the Veritas, fuck Saul, and fuck every single person who supported this sick side to society.
Still clutching my shoulders, Olivia bowed her head and mumbled, “Ora pro nobis peccatoribus. Be it done, according to Thy word.”
Suddenly the crowd calmed, parting and kneeling, and I realized that Olivia was pushing me forward, my feet moving without thinking, following the path they’d made way for me.
We were walking towards the burning pyre, the flickering flames lighting up a misshapen tree with a skull, staring at me with dark eye sockets.
A large shadow blocked the light—a woman, standing next to an altar formed from bones and rocks. Long brown hair, black skin, eyes focused on me. She was topless, with an orange snake draped across her shoulders and chest. Gold necklaces hung around her neck.
A man stood behind her, bare chested. With his back to the fire, his headdress of a snarling beast, he was half-way hidden in shadows, only the outline of his body was visible.
The woman smiled, and the red and gold paint slashed across her face made her look even more malicious, but it was the cold, lifelessness in her eyes that made fear spike my blood.
“Ssssummer Duvallll,” the woman’s voice was just as snakelike as her pet. “Welcome.” She too wore a headdress, curved ox horns encased in a golden crown. The bones tied around her waist made a tinkling noise as she moved. Walking towards me, her black, billowing skirt flowed around her ankles.
Olivia stopped before her, bowing in respect. “Priestess Vashti.”
The priestess didn’t look at Olivia but her gaze stayed fixed on me. “It is an honor and a privilege to meet you, Summer Duvall. I’ve waited long for this moment.”
What the everloving hades did that mean?
“Your hand,” she said, and, grabbing my wrist, she yanked it to her face, pressing her nose into it, inhaling deep. Then she licked my wound, groaning, “The pure of blood.”
Startled, I instinctively jerked it back but her grip held fast and she raised it. Before I knew what was happening, pain shot through me.
The snake had struck, biting me, and blood poured from a new wound. “Your contribution to the goddess.”
I gasped in agony, my arm shaking as Vashti held it over a silk cloth.
“Don’t worry, it won’t hurt you.” she gave me a proud, demented grin, “I milked it this morning.” Dropping my hand, she turned her back to me. “Follow me.”
I clasped my hand to my chest protectively, pain throbbing up my arm, in shock. Olivia pushed me forward as we made our way back to Vashti’s altar. She placed a small pile of dried herbs, a strand of calamus root, and a large coin on the cloth. Then she tied it with a black ribbon and hung it around her neck, nestling it in between her breasts. As she worked, the snake around her neck and shoulders slithered down her arm, coiling on the altar.
Taking a step back, Vashti raised her hands to the crowd behind us, “It is time for the initium occultum.”
The noise of the crowd behind me swelled once more. Shouting and chanting and stomping of feet.
As her gaze met mine once more, her expression changed; her eyes seemed to be lit with something other-worldly. They were glazed over with a fervent madness, an excitement for what was to come next.
Taking a candle from her altar, she poured oil over it, then sprinkled it with salt and black crystals. Within seconds, the candle had been lit by the fire and the smell of salt and camphor filled the humid air. It burned my eyes and nose.
“Woe unto you, Summer Duvall! Our goddess, Makedra, has struck like lightning from heaven.” Passing the candle over me in the sign of the cross, some of the wax landed on my face and chest, scorching my skin. I hissed, gritting my teeth. “I have authority to trample on snakes and scorpions. To overcome all the power of mine enemy. And so wilt thou. The Goddess will fight for you; you need only to be still.”
Be still, my ass.
When she was done, she threw the rest of the candle into the fire with a pop and hiss.
She now stepped forward, and wiped a thumb across my lips. “Newest handshade, daughter of the Veritas Magnolia, kneel at my feet.” The man behind her stepped forward. He was large—warrior size—with a wide chest and bulging arms and legs. He stepped behind her, placing one hand on her hip. He began to skim his lips over her neck, kissing her and murmuring, “It’s an honor to stand by your side this night, my love.”
Her eyelids fluttered at his touch, as his hand moved over her skin, across her breasts and stomach. “Tonight, the world will tremble at your feet.” Then he placed something in her outstretched hand, and my eyes widened, my heart racing.
I couldn’t breathe. My whole body began to shake again.
“Summer,” she hissed once more, collecting herself enough to focus on her task. “From henceforth you will owe your life and your allegiance to the Magnolia.”
I didn’t move, and her eyes flashed.
“Kneel,” she commanded. “You must prove your loyalty and swear fealty to the Magnolia for the rest of your life.”
I couldn’t. I was frozen in fear.
She was holding a branding iron. The Magnolia insignia glowed a bright white.
“I…”
I couldn’t go through with this. I couldn’t.
Heart stuttering, I took a step backwards and another, straight into a solid wall behind me: a warm body.
It was Fallon.
His arms held me by my elbows, keeping me steady, his low voice a calm in the storm. “Have trust and faith, Summer.” Then louder, “She has a right to ask for miseri.”
Him sticking up for me was another jolt to the system.
The priestess narrowed her eyes at him but, after a long hesitation, she nodded. “You’re right. Those are the rules.” The man was now kissing over her shoulder but her face moved to the crowd behind me, her snake-like voice hissing through the swampland. “She asks for misericordia. Are there any who dare to take her place?”
There was a long silence, except for the sound of my heart pounding and a soft moan from Vashti. Though she was watching the crowd, the man had slid his hand under the front of her skirt, the material bobbing.
My whole body was tense—Fallon was likely the only thing holding me upright. My mouth was dry but sweat poured down my temples and trickled in between my breasts.
Then, a rustling of movement. Whispering. Some gasps of surprise.
Once more, the crowd seemed to part. I could feel the empty space behind me, and the lone sound of footsteps as a hush fell over the crowd.
Then there was a voice. A strong voice, one that sent me to my knees.
“I will take her place.”
Rook’s voice.
Ohmygod. He was alive.
And he was here.
For me.
He hadn’t abandoned me.
“No,” I cried out, knowing what this would mean to him. He wanted out of the Magnolia. Was only in it for the revenge. Hadn’t even done anything stupid like me and my father, and gotten himself indebted.
If he did this, he could never leave.
“No,” I repeated myself, turning to see him. He was wearing suit pants, bare feet and chested, with a mask. But, instead of a wolf one, as I expected, he was wearing stag horns. Ones that matched mine exactly.
A statement of solidarity. Of oneness between us.
“You can’t,” I struggled to stand, suddenly exhausted, but forced myself to my feet. Ignoring him, I faced the priestess, my voice strong and unwavering. “I will take the brand.”
“Summer,” Rook growled. His voice low, dark, and dangerous. The sound of a man determined to have his way.
I shook my head, still meeting Vashti’s eyes. “It’s my honorable amends. I will take it.”
I stepped forward but Rook’s hand on my arm gripped me tight, yanking me behind him protectively. He slowly knelt, taking a deep breath, his face tilting upward.
His movements calm and composed. Controlled.
“She is mine. I will bear her burden.”
“It is my choice, and I choose to take the branding,” I argued.
Another figure parted from the crowd—gold demon horns glinting in the darkness. A snake-like smile curling the edges of his lips, Saul’s cold blue eyes took in the scene.
Rook on his knees. Protecting me. Offering himself up to the Magnolia.
“No,” Saul said, coming to stand next to Vashti. “This is my contract, and so I will make the final decision.” He stared down his nose at us. “And I choose Rook. This is his destiny. Has always been, since the birth of Summer Duvall, to bring him to the arms of the Magnolia.”
“She has the right to choose,” Vashti argued, and her word seemed to hold weight. “This is bigger than you, including your destiny, the goddess has declared it.”
“I choose me—” Trying to pull away from Rook, I stepped in front of him, my voice faltering as a firm hand seized my hips. Pulling me to him, I fell to his chest, his arms enveloping me tight.
“I made a blood oath to your father to keep you safe,” he growled in my ear, “and I will fulfill it at any cost, even if it means giving up myself.”
“I can’t let you do this,” I disagreed. “I can’t…” My heart was breaking. I wouldn’t let Rook take the fall—not for me.
“Make your choice,” Vashti said.
My chest expanded with short, fearful breaths, my heart pounding so loud in my chest, but just as I was about to confirm that I would take the branding, Rook interrupted me, pulling my face towards him, forcing me to stare into his eyes.
“I have a confession, Summer. One last admission you need to hear before you do this.”
“Now?”
“Yes. Will you let me?”
I nodded, my voice soft, “Yes.”
“I lied to you, Summer. I may have paid money to own you, but it is you who own me. You’ve carved yourself into my heart, my soul. The day you came into my life was the day I was reborn. I live again, because of you. I would take a thousand brands, endure a thousand deaths, if it means sparing you any pain. Because if I can’t protect you, I will die again.”
His declaration hung heavy in the air, suffocating the silence that wrapped around us.
I could only stare into his eyes, even though I felt the pressure of a hundred eyes on us. Of Vashti salivating to brand one of us. Of Saul, so eager to control Rook.
I let it all fall away—the world around us—to touch Rook’s face, my heart burning for him. I stared into his eyes, feeling the weight of his confession press against my chest.
I saw everything in the look he gave me, the feel of his skin against mine. The vulnerability in his eyes.
A lump formed in my chest, and I hated everything about this.
But how could I let him take the branding for me?
Everyone in his life had betrayed him, and I couldn’t be the next person in line.
And yet, something loosened in my chest.
He hadn’t abandoned me.
My whole life I’d believed I was never good enough. That I had to do everything myself. Accepting his help had been devastating—to rely on someone whom I knew would one day walk away.
And yet, in that moment, I realized that our lives had become inextricably intertwined. He’d become my cornerstone, the unbreakable foundation that would cradle the storm of my heart—despite what he’d said.
“Please,” he whispered, his lips pressing against mine softly. “Let me do this. Let me protect you in ways I couldn”t protect my Nana or my mother. I’m begging you.”
My heart broke at Rook’s plea.
At his need for redemption. At the vulnerability in his voice.
And he’d done it—in front of everyone.
For me.
This dark love we shared had swallowed us whole, and now there was no escaping. Holding back the sob that pressed from my chest up my throat, I nodded, kissing him back, my words against his lips, ““I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. If only I would’ve listened to you?—”
“I don’t care, but just… stay with me,” he interrupted me, his voice another plea. “Stay here while they do it?” He pulled back to stare intently into my eyes. “Be my rock.”
“Okay.” I nodded, swallowing the knot in my throat.
Suddenly, his eyes hardened and he took in a deep breath, pulling me to his lap, holding me tight as he announced loudly.
“I will take the branding. Do it quickly,” he commanded.
“There is a count to three,” Vashti challenged, “in honor of the goddess, lord, and spirit of all.”
An angry, stark look came over Rook’s face but he nodded, flexing his jaw. “Fine.”
“Three,” Vashti said and Rook growled.
“You said on the count of three.”
“Two,” she continued, counting down.
“Just do it,” he barked.
“For fuck’s sake!” Saul grabbed the branding iron from Vashti and slammed it into the ribs of Rook’s bare torso.
Rook howled in pain, the sound like a wounded and dying wolf. His body convulsed, every muscle tense and strained as he writhed with desperate fury. His sharp nails tore into my skin, carving deep gashes that oozed crimson blood.
Fury. Agony. Desperation.
I could hear Vashti and her man fucking, their moans and cries filling the air. His beastly head looming over us.
Saul’s devil face staring at us, stretched with a delighted, evil grin.
Shrieks from the crowd behind us, the sounds of other people having sex.
With each passing moment, it felt like death was consuming Rook from within—and dragging me with him.
As the branding melted into Rook’s skin, his fate was sealed.
Rook was bound to the Magnolia, forever.