Page 14 of Lethal Truths

What the fuck is happening?

With the whole door thing, I was delayed a few extra minutes. Now, as I practically run down Greek Row to find Creed, I’m creeped out and paranoid. Had I imagined the knocking? Or is someone fucking with me? Either option doesn’t make me feel too damn peachy, but I force myself not to dwell. I’ve got a mission tonight and a busy mind won’t suit my needs very well.

I catch sight of Creed, Asher, and Griffin walking across campus and I praise all the gods I can think of that I haven’t missed my chance. Slowing my steps, I keep a steady pace several feet back and follow them. We cut around Lunar Hall and keep walking toward the far end of campus, where the fancy observatory sits. I’ve never actually been inside the building. I have no desire to look at the fucking stars.

The guys dip inside, and I wait a moment before cautiously following. The bright hallway is busy enough that I’m instantly on edge, though, so I duck right and rush down a different hallway. I’ll loop back around in a few minutes. Hopefully, by then, everyone will be inside the meeting, and I can eavesdrop from outside the door.

How nice would it be to get my answers tonight? I’m doubtful, but still holding out hope that I’ll at least get pointed in the right direction. I’ve wasted far too much time with Griffin in the library, never really getting anything done. I’m through being careful now. I just hope it doesn’t get me killed.

9

Griffin

“… increasing exponentially since the investment. Though Elder Edward believes he’s raised suspicion and has decided to lie low for the time being while he works to cover our tracks,” one of the elder members explains at the front of the room. A bunch of other members in the front few rows nod and murmur, while the junior members, myself included, try to look interested at the back of the room.

I’ve been zoning out for most of this meeting, so I couldn’t tell you what the fuck that investment was. Drugs, most likely. Elder Edward is a shady bastard. Aren’t they all, though?

The meeting goes on for another fifteen minutes like this, with some of the elder members standing up to announce big moves or any trouble they’ve run into. Elder Nancy, mayor of Black Creek, reminds everyone of the midnight mass coming up on the next full moon. Junior members aren’t permitted, but I have a good enough idea of what the hell these sadistic fucks get up to in the dead of night.

Asher and Creed just think we’re in the company of crazy, rich people who believe the stars are responsible for all the good things they’ve been granted over the generations. Of course hard — illegal — work goes into it, but the Elders claim the stars have given each and every one of them the skills and knowledge to attain their power and wealth.

It’s all bullshit if you ask me, but I won’t be the one to tell them as much.

Not that I’m not glad for the distraction, but when Heather’s phone vibrates in her death grip for the third time, I’m officially pissed off. Every time she glances down at the screen, her father, one of the top Elders, eyes her with suspicion, which of course draws everyone else’s eyes her way. She’s sitting in the seat in front of me, so naturally, several pairs of eyes sweep over me as well, which has me itching in my skin, desperate to flee this stuffy room and this twisted cult-like group of fucks.

By the fourth attempt at calling, Heather lets out a frustrated little squeak and stands, murmuring an apology before she swiftly leaves the room. The Elders all watch her go, her father looking particularly peeved at the lack of attention.

Fuck it.

Standing, I sign to everyone that I hate all of them — finding an ungodly amount of joy in the knowledge that none of them can understand me — and then casually stroll away to follow Heather. Asher stumbles through a false translation, explaining that I’m not feeling well and need some air. It has my steps slowing, a pang of remorse cutting through me.

Is it possible to love and hate him? To miss the friend I knew while despising the person he’s becoming? I can’t help but wonder what side he’d fall on if he knew everything I did. Maybe telling him the truth will bring him back to me. It’s not his fault that he believes all the shit we were told all our lives, right?

Hell, I was naïve once, too. Until I walked in on some… some fucking sick ritual. My parents and the rest of the Elders were there. And there was so much blood, too much for that girl to have survived whatever they did to her. It was a full moon, the stars were high in the sky, and the people that I had trusted all my life were chanting in Latin while they carved symbols into her porcelain skin.

Midnight Mass.

I’ve wondered a lot since then… Do they slaughter innocent people every month? Or was that night a special occasion?

My vision blurs as I recall everything that came next. I’m not on campus any longer, but outside, watching that… murder… wishing I could save the girl laid out on that table. But they just kept cutting her up, passing the knife around the circle until everyone had their turn, and I knew by the end, the girl was gone. The next day, I had a knife to my throat as my father curled his lips in distaste at me.

“You’ll never be worthy of the secrets of the stars, son. I had hoped, in time… but clearly, you’ll never be able to stomach it, and now you’re simply a loose end,” he’d told me as the man behind me pressed the knife deeper, drawing a thin line of blood along my skin.

They had caught me unaware while I was packing my shit into my car in the garage. I was so busy trying not to puke at the memories of the night before that I hadn’t even noticed my dad enter or seen who the man at my back was.

“Please, don’t! I won’t say anything, I fucking swear it,” I’d pleaded as the sting of shock and betrayal coursed through my veins.

My dad smiled then, but it was sharp and threatening. He looked past me to the man holding me still with that goddamn knife, and he nodded. Then all I knew was excruciating pain as my throat split open and my blood spilled like an angry river.

When I dropped to the floor, desperately clutching my neck to stop my impending death, I finally saw who had wielded the weapon. Shock rendered me immobile as my strength seeped out of me. The last thing I heard was my dad saying, “You’ll never get the chance to say another word again.” Then that man and my dad walked away without a care, their postures loose like they weren’t fucking monsters.

Somehow I survived. I had enough fight left in me to dig my phone out of my pocket and dial 911, and help arrived shortly after my eyes slipped closed for what I thought was the last time.

When I woke, I didn’t say a word.

When I recovered, I didn’t say a word.

And over a year later, I haven’t said a single word.

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