4. Sebastian
CHAPTER FOUR
SEBASTIAN
Acouple of days after we kill Hank in the abandoned art studio downtown, our focus is back on the Black Veil Society project, and that means making contact with them.
I round the corner into the kitchen right as orange hues of dusk shine through the open windows meeting my gaze. My eyes land on River and Lux eating breakfast at the large island. With her head resting on his shoulder, she giggles as he spoon-feeds her a bite from his plate.
I grimace, taking a seat at the opposite end of the island. “Get a fucking room.”
“Breakfast, Sebastian?” Ben, our personal chef, asks with his back toward me. He has a towel draped over his shoulder and steam from the food cooking taking up the space around him.
River shoots me a glare, then returns to obsessively staring at Lux.
“Whatever you’re making,” I reply.
“Breakfast burrito?”
“Sounds great.”
“Good evening, Sebastian.” Lux turns her head to me with a soft smile.
Lux and I didn’t start out on the best of terms, but she quickly proved herself to be as fucked up as the rest of us, so I reluctantly accepted her into the family.
“Evening. You look happy.”
River leans in front of Lux with a wide smile, blocking my view. “Because we’re leaving on Friday for the South of France.”
Although I am happy for my cousin to get a little time off from our nightlife, it means this will be the first time we’ve been away from each other since we were kids.
He’s a pain in my ass and we fight constantly, but River is my brother, and it’s hard to imagine taking on the new project of the magnitude of the Black Veil Society without him.
“That’s where you guys decided to go?” Ben places a plate in front of me with a breakfast burrito and some greens.
“Yeah. It’s far enough away to give us both a break and to clear our heads,” Lux replies. “But close enough that we can come back if things take a turn upside down with the Society project.”
River’s head cocks to the side with a slight smirk, but behind the expression there’s a light streak of encouragement. “With help from Christian and Hayden, Sebastian has this under control.”
I appreciate the confidence, but I know I can handle everything.
However, I’d be lying to myself if there wasn’t a slight apprehension settling in my bones.
I can’t let River know that because Lux is his priority now, and if he thinks I need help, he’ll force himself to stay.
I give him shit about their nauseating obsession with one another, but I am deeply happy for him.
Picking up my burrito with one hand, I wave him off with the other. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not as needed as you think you are.”
Lux laughs and hops off her high-top chair. “I think you two are more alike than either of you want to admit.” She kisses River and skips out of the kitchen.
A grumble from the pantry is Ben agreeing with her.
“I’m not as much of a control freak. And I also don’t have that big an ego where I think things can’t run perfectly fine without me.”
River spits his water out in shock—or for dramatic effect. Who knows with him? “Really?”
I rip a bite off my food and stare him down. “Yeah. I’m way more go-with-the-flow than you are.”
“We’ll see about that.” A smug smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you haven’t yet faced a situation where someone has taken away the control you believe you have.” River stacks his plate on top of Lux’s and walks around to the sink.
He’s referring to when Lux was taken by Andrew Hughes, the hotel heir.
“I get it,” I say. “But I always keep in mind that sometimes we simply have to adapt to our surroundings—to be prepared to act in the moment. And then not to be surprised when the plans don’t go the way we were expecting.”
River stares at me with a confident smile as he dries his hands on a dish towel. “I agree with Lux.” He shrugs, ignoring my last comment.
“Of course you would.” I brush it off.
“She is very intuitive,” he adds. “And it’s a compliment to be like me. I enjoy who I am. You should, too.”
“An uptight, obsessive control freak?”
His face forms a sarcastic smirk. “That’s right.”
I am more of a dark horse. Where my cousin is overly assertive and pushy, I’m reserved but deep calculations hide behind what he views as impetuous. “Whatever you say, River.”
“Have you received any more information about the Black Veil Society from Christian?” he asks, sensing my desire to change the subject.
Christian and I spoke last night about moving forward with contact. He hasn’t been able to find much more on the group, and I’m tired of waiting.
“We decided to just contact them. We’re wasting time searching for data we may never find.” I lean back in the chair, tossing my napkin onto the empty plate. “Let’s go touch base with him.”
“Great. Let’s do it in my—”
“In my office,” I interrupt him, raising my eyebrows.
He chuckles, but rolls his eyes. “Fine. This is your project. Let’s go to your office then.”
After a quick once-over of next week’s meals with Ben, River and I head to the West Wing, which is my portion of the house.
As soon as we get into my office, River falls onto the leather sofa and smiles as if waiting for me to begin.
I scoff at his arrogance and take a seat behind my desk.
“So, what’s the update and plan then?” he asks.
My eyes glance at the 180-degree floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the west side of the property. The tall trees and low gray clouds create a dark canopy, perfect for concealing what we do.
Leaning back in the chair, I fold one leg over the other.
“The only real leads Christian has been able to find were when he was checking with a few of his local ground contacts. He mentioned speaking with his contact at the Slippery Kitten strip club, too. Apparently, some of the members used to frequent her club.”
“And they’ve been underground for so long…” River trails off.
“Enough time that the FBI found them to no longer be a threat,” I add.
“Christian still has little information on them, but he mentioned that every year they chose a new major city to conduct business in. Homicide rates would soar for a few weeks, then suddenly drop.” My eyes flick to the windows, and I catch sight of a subtle fog hovering over the tombstones in the old graveyard that’s been on the property since River and I purchased it.
“And would they pick up in a new city the following year?”
I run a hand through my hair. “Maybe. That would also make sense why they could have established chapters at this point, too.”
“To stay under the radar.”
“Yes. But they weren’t consistent. Years would go by without a word from them, then they’d reemerge again,” I add.
River rubs his chin, deep in thought. “They operate without a pattern.”
I nod. “Patterns create predictability, which increases their chances of getting caught.”
“Exactly.”
“Which means we only have a small window of time before they move on.” I straighten in my chair, then pick up the black rectangular card to the side of my keyboard.
With a quick flip between my fingers to show the back, six digits combined with numbers and letters display under what we’ve concluded to be a telephone number.
River rises to his feet. “Let’s get this fucking thing going.”
Impatience mixed with thrill courses through my veins and fills the room with energy.
“I’m going to call them.” I lean down and grab one of the untraceable burner phones from the locked drawer in my desk.
“Wait. You’re going to wing it now?”
“Looks like it.” My excited heart pounds against my chest as I tap in each number on the telephone.
“Hello?” a man’s voice answers on the first ring.
“Hi. I received your card from an acquaintance,” I begin, pretending to get it from Andrew before he died, even though one of our guys took it off his dead body.
“Which one?”
“Andrew Hughes.”
“Ah. I am familiar with the hotel heir.” His tone is flat, unfazed. “And what can I do for you?”
I am interested in your…” I pause, thinking through my next word. “Group.”
“And you are?”
Thank god Christian and I discussed a serial killer moniker the last time we spoke, seems to be that this name isn’t being used by any well-known killer at the moment.
“The Dark Prince.” My eyes dart over to River’s, and I find him leaning against the window with his arms folded across his chest. Anticipation captures his expression as he waits for my responses.
“And where did you say you got our card from?” he repeats, slightly suspicious as if trying to catch me in a lie.
“Andrew Hughes.”
“Yes.” He blows out a breath as if trying to catch me in a lie. “The first event of the season is the charity’s masquerade ball, occurring at the historic Moore Mansion. Are you familiar with the site?”
They constructed the Moore Mansion in the late 1800s on a small island a short ferry ride away from the city.
It was once home to a seedy oil tycoon, but my understanding is that it’s used for private events today.
Its seclusion is appealing to organizers who desire a level of anonymity, and with its complicated history, makes the site even more questionable.
“I am.”
“Good. We will see you and your girlfriend this Friday at nine p.m.”
My stomach drops.
Girlfriend? Why does he think I have a girlfriend?
“My girlfriend?”
“Yes. Andrew mentioned he had been looking into finding a couple for us.”
“A couple?”
“Yeah, but we weren’t sure he’d find one. Now”—he clears his throat—“you and your girlfriend will each need to wear a white rose. Yours will be pinned to your lapel, and hers will need to be at the front of her chest so we can identify you. It’s been a while since we’ve had a duo. See you then.”
Then the line goes silent before I get the chance to ask follow-up questions.
I remove the phone from my ear. “He hung up.”
“What did he say?” River rushes out.
“He told me to go to the Moore Mansion on Friday to attend a masquerade ball.” Confusion builds inside me as I rub the skin raw. “With my girlfriend.”