24. VERENA GRAVENHURST #2
Slowly, I drag my eyes towards him, and my heart sinks.
Looming over my shoulder, the large skull of a wolf leers back at me.
The eyes of the skull are hollowed out, and the hood of his onyx robe is pulled far over his head.
It casts a shadow over the top of the mask, rendering it nearly impossible to see his hazel eyes beneath it, but I know it’s him.
I can tell by the way he carries himself.
His voice. The way he demands attention from everyone around him by simply walking into the room.
There’s something different about Reed tonight, though.
Something darker and wilder, like he doesn’t just wear the wolf mask, but embodies it.
“You asked for this,” he says, a hint of sadness in his otherwise stern tone.
Nerves wrack my body. What could he possibly mean by that?
The warmth radiating from him disappears in an instant as he stands straight, and I miss it as soon as it’s gone.
He walks past my chair, further into the circle.
My heart tugs towards him, wanting, no, needing him to get me out of here.
He takes slow steps in leisure, his robe billowing behind him against the stone floor.
Reed would never hurt me; he said so himself.
“Tonight,” his voice booms through the room, “we witness the initiation of one who has dared to seek us.” Any hopes of Reed being my knight in shining armour go right out the window.
He can’t be talking about me. I didn’t ask for this!
“She has crossed the threshold of choice, and in doing so, she binds herself to us.” Reed’s voice is loud and certain despite the mask.
Choice? I didn’t choose this. Reed chose this fate for me, but why?
Because he couldn’t trust me enough to know I’d keep his secret?
He scans the circle, and one by one, his peers bow their heads.
That is, until he reaches The Fox. He tips his chin up in defiance.
A challenge. But Reed doesn’t bite. He simply stares The Fox down, his hands folded at the front of his hips like he has all the time in the world.
No one makes a sound, not even me. Reed looks like death incarnate.
Like darkness made flesh. Not even the dim light from the sconces dare to illuminate him.
The Fox is stubborn and unrelenting, but when The Wolf takes a single step forward, The Fox’s head finally drops in submission.
“Know this, there is no mercy in this circle. There is only the law we serve,” Reed continues, as if nothing had happened.
“Verena is a Gravenhurst. The blood of the founding families runs through her veins, as potent as any of ours. She has every right to walk among us and claim her place in this order,” he says, like his peers need convincing.
His attention averts to me. “But blood, loyalty and desire mean nothing if your soul cannot endure.”
Fear and confusion take root inside of me.
If your soul cannot endure. The words replay in my mind over and over again as Reed spins on his heel and shoves a metal poker into the brazier.
Sparks burst wildly into the air, and I stare at the flames as they grow taller.
The room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Come on, Reed…Tell me what the fuck is going on! I want to scream.
“She doesn’t deserve a spot within the order!
” The Fox bellows into the near-silent room, and I startle.
All heads turn towards him. Reed goes deathly still, the muscles in his back flexing beneath his robe.
The Fox takes a single step forward, breaking formation, and I can tell this isn’t normal behaviour, because his peers stiffen around him.
“We’ve finally rid the society of the Gravenhurst bloodline, and you want to initiate her?” The Fox spits. No one says a word. Except The Wolf.
“Get back in formation.”
“No.” The Fox’s words are immediate and unrelenting.
The Wolf takes slow, deliberate steps towards The Fox, but he doesn’t back down. I catch the glint of his dagger fisted in the pocket of his robe.
“Reed!” A muffled cry escapes me. Everything happens so fast. The Wolf’s head turns to me, then back to The Fox, just as he slips the dagger from his pocket, swinging it in the air towards The Wolf.
A scream rips through me. The Wolf catches The Fox’s wrist mid-air.
The dagger slips from The Fox’s leather glove on impact, clanging against the stone floor.
The hood of The Fox’s robe slips from his head, revealing a mop of messy brown hair. Jenkins.
Two members of the society rush towards him, capturing his hands behind his back and shoving him to his knees. Jenkins struggles against them, his mask dropping to the ground.
“Submit,” The Wolf demands, his voice taunting.
Jenkins responds by spitting at his feet. A laugh escapes The Wolf. It’s dark, and unlike any sound I’ve ever heard from him, but I can hear the amusement behind it, and know without a doubt, he’s smiling. “Very well.”
The Wolf lifts his hand and swings with a force so strong a sound echoes through the chambers when it connects with Jenkins’ cheek on a loud crack.
Jenkins is quiet for a moment, crouched on his knees, head hanging low between his shoulders as two members suspend his arms. His body shakes, and I expect it to be a sob splitting through his body after the horrid sound I’d just heard, but to my dismay, it’s a laugh.
A loose curl cascades from his forehead, and blood streams from his mouth, pooling on the stone before him.
“Submit,” The Wolf demands again, dominance thick in his tone.
“Fuck,” he spits a mouthful of blood, “you.”
The Wolf crouches in front of him.
“You forget your place amongst the chosen, but I’m happy to remind you.
” Without another word, the wolf grabs hold of Jenkins’ hand and shoves it straight into the hot coals of the brazier.
I suck in a breath. The smell of rubber and burning flesh is instant.
The blood-curdling scream from Jenkins has sickness biting at the back of my throat. “Submit!” Reed roars.
Jenkins continues to scream, his body trembling. “Okay! Fuck! I submit!”
He’s instantly pulled from the brazier, cradling his injured hand as the members drop him onto the cold floor. He collapses against it, his body shaking before he loses consciousness.
“Get him out of here,” The Wolf orders, his voice void of any emotion, and they carry his limp body from the room without another word. The rest of the members stand eerily still, heads tipped high, their hands clasped behind their backs.
Defiance might be out of character around here, but violence is certainly not.
The Wolf leisurely makes his way towards me, and my heart jackhammers in my chest at the sight.
If he could do something like that to his childhood best friend, who knows what he has planned for me.
My jaw begins to chatter, and my ears ring as he kneels before me, lifting his mask so it rests atop his head.
Whisps of dirty-blonde hair stick to his temples from sweat.
His features are hard, but his eyes are soft as they search mine.
He calmly reaches to the back of my head, untying the fabric that binds my jaw and frees it from my mouth.
“Reed,” I rasp after an excruciating swallow. My lip quivers, and he runs a thumb over my cheek, wiping a tear away. I close my eyes against his touch, trying to calm my nerves and remind myself of the charming and kind person I’ve gotten to know over these past few months.
“Shhh, it’ll all be over soon,” he says, nodding to a member behind me. I look around in a panic.
“Reed? What’s going on?”
“Power comes with sacrifice,” is all he says, as he gently peels my robe from one shoulder.
I peer over it at the member standing behind me.
He lifts the poker that has been simmering in the brazier since Reed had entered the room.
I notice it isn’t just a poker at all, but a branding iron.
The letters H-I-S, along with six petals of an iris flower, detail the brand at the end of the metal rod, burning a red so bright my skin crawls at the sight of it.
Panic slams into me. Reed grabs hold of my chin, dragging it back to face him.
He shoves the cloth, which is now bunched into a ball, into my mouth.
“Bite down,” he says, and I don’t hesitate. A white-hot pain, worse than anything I’ve ever felt, sears through the back of my shoulder and consumes my entire being. I scream, or at least I think I do, and The Wolf’s hazel eyes are the last thing I see before pain devours me whole.