Page 52 of Merciless Prince
“We are a collegiate society, but membership doesn’t dissolve upon graduation. It is a lifetime commitment and a golden ticket to an existence beyond your wildest dreams… as long as you make it through the initiation process,” the man went on. “If and when you do, you will immediately gain entrance to a vast network of the country’s most influential people. We will see to your every need, and in return, we will expect your loyalty. Are you ready to begin this journey with us?”
We all nodded again.
“Good.” He raised both palms high in the air. “Now, kneel and drain your cups.”
The other red-cloaks started handing out the silver skull cups, which they’d been filling from the jug on the altar while their associate spoke to us. After we’d all received a skull, we knelt on the ground and downed the liquid inside. It tasted like port—sweet and intense—and it warmed my throat as it went down.
“The drinks contain a little something to help you stay honest with us and yourselves,” one of the female red-cloaks said. “Don’t worry—you might start to feel a little spaced-out and drowsy, but it isn’t dangerous.”
I clenched my jaw. It would’ve been nice if they told us they were drugging usbeforewe finished the drinks, but here we were.
The annoyance in my mind quickly gave way to a strange fuzzy feeling, like someone had wrapped my brain in cotton wool. My vision was beginning to blur, and I was struck by the distinct feeling that none of this was real. Just an odd dream.
My fellow initiates looked as if they were already affected, too. Some of them were swaying on the spot, even though they were still on their knees, and a couple of others looked glassy-eyed and vacant.
“Rise,” one of the red-cloaks commanded in a booming voice.
We did as he said. The rhythmic drumming sound around us grew louder, and a distant roar filled my ears.
Something’s coming out of the woods,a little voice in my foggy brain told me.No… someone.
“Remember tonight!” the deep-voiced red-cloak went on. “For it is the beginning of always. The path to paradise begins in Hell.”
I recognized the line from an old book I had to study in high school—The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri.It contained the famous poem ‘Inferno’, which described a journey through the nine circles of Hell.
A woman suddenly shouted from somewhere up ahead. “Take them!”
More masked red-cloaks began to pour into the clearing from the woods beyond. They ran toward us, arms uplifted, and began to prod us and chase us around like we were children on a playground. The drumming sound was even louder now, almost drowning out the petrified screams and shouts from my fellow initiates, and everything was moving so fast that I could barely take it all in. I felt drunk, dizzy, out of control.
Someone grabbed me from behind and started to drag me backward. I kicked and screamed as they laughed and made tutting sounds against my left ear. My eyes darted around with panic, and I saw the bossy girl being dragged in the other direction, flailing and crying. Two red-cloaks tied her to one of the poplar trees that stood around the edges of the clearing.
Soon, the person who’d grabbed me from behind started tying me to a tree as well. I was too weak and drowsy from the drugs to fight them off, and it seemed pointless to try anyway, because the horde of red-cloaks in the clearing was growing larger by the second. There had to be at least forty or fifty of them now.
I blinked, trying to clear my rapidly-blurring vision. The other initiates had all been overpowered by now, and each of them was tied to a tree.
The heavy drumming suddenly died down, along with the whooping and screeching from the red-cloaks. An eerie silence descended upon the clearing, filling my heart with trepidation.
“Begin!” one of the masked men finally shouted, raising a hand. I thought I recognized the voice as Killian’s, but I couldn’t be sure. My mind was too hazy and scattered.
The red-cloaks broke into groups of five or six and started gathering around the initiates who were tied to the trees across the clearing.
“What’s happening?” I asked. My voice sounded strange and slurred, as if I were speaking through a wall of water.
“I think they’re questioning them,” the initiate closest to me said. His words sounded slurred, just like mine. “My brother is a member. He told me a bit about this stuff.”
A nearby red-cloak who hadn’t gone off in one of the groups lifted a hand. “Quiet,” she said before turning back to observe the proceedings on the other side of the clearing.
Through heavy-lidded eyes, I watched the green flames on the torches flicker as I awaited my turn. My mind was growing fuzzier by the second, and it was almost impossible for me to think straight. My sense of time seemed to have vanished from my consciousness, too. I could’ve been tied to this tree for five minutes or five hours. I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference either way.
“This is all a dream,” I muttered to no one in particular. I heard someone snicker from somewhere nearby, but I wasn’t embarrassed. I was too out of it to care.
I heard a sudden shout from somewhere to my left. I turned my head and squinted to see what was going on. One of the initiates had been untied from his tree, and he was being escorted toward the forest path that led out of the clearing. It was the guy who tried to talk to us in the parking lot earlier, with the jeans and Bellingham hoodie.
“This is bullshit!” he shouted. “Fuckingbullshit.Stop touching me! You can’t make me leave!”
The red-cloaks on either side of him ignored his protests and kept their grip on his upper arms as they pulled him toward the path.
Suddenly, five other red-cloaks were standing right in front of me, forming a tight-knit semi-circle. “What happened to that guy?” I asked, staring up at them through bleary eyes.
