Page 19 of Broken Empire
“The one with Nicole Kidman? About that weird secret society that’s kind of like a sex cult?”
“That’s the one,” Robert said with a slight nod. “We have a client who’s utterly obsessed with it. Every year, he hires us to create a short film based on it in some capacity. Last year, he attended one of the New York auctions and bought the actors there—”
“Thevictims, you mean,” I said in an acid tone.
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever you want to call them. Anyway, he bought them in New York last year, so we filmed it there, up at one of those old Hudson River mansions. Absolutely stunning place. I think I have a photo somewhere.” He paused and fumbled in his pocket for his phone before flicking through his media gallery. “Here. Look. Nice, isn’t it?”
He showed the screen to me, and my stomach lurched. The mansion in the photo was easily recognizable with its Beaux-Arts style, flat roof, arched windows, and hulking columns.
It was Clyde Park Estate.
“I’ve been there before,” I said in a hollow voice.
“You have?” Robert’s forehead wrinkled. A second later, comprehension dawned on his face. “Ah, of course. Your boyfriend’s family owns it.”
I nodded listlessly.
“He’ll be one of us soon enough,” Robert went on. “So you can forget about him coming to rescue you.”
“He would never join you,” I said, eyes narrowing.
He smiled thinly. “They all say that at the start, but as soon as Killian realizes what’s at stake for him, he’ll be happy to accept our invitation. Then you’ll be nothing but a fond memory to him.”
“You’re wrong,” I muttered.
“I don’t think so,” Robert said in an airy tone. “Anyway, as I was saying, we produce a cult-style film for this client every year. This year, he attended the DC auction and purchased all the actors there, so we’re filming it out here. You wouldn’t believe the production value on these things. We go all out, so he’s a very satisfied customer.”
My mind drifted back to the storage closet Killian and I found ourselves in during our exploration of the Kingsford’s secret floor. We’d come across an array of creepy cultish daggers, masks, and robes… and now I knew why. They were costumes used by the organization in the production of the snuff films for this client who adored Eyes Wide Shut so much.
The thought made me feel nauseated. I used to love everything involving movies, acting, and costumes, but now I couldn’t bear any of it.
Robert clicked his fingers at me. “Come on. Let’s get closer.”
We headed into the clearing and stepped over to a man wearing a black t-shirt with the word ‘Director’ emblazoned on it in white. He greeted Robert warmly and ignored me entirely. The two men made small talk about the recent weather for a moment, and then they moved on to discussing the project they were about to shoot.
“The talent will be arriving soon,” the director said, glancing at his watch. “Any moment now, actually.”
A production assistant diverted his attention a few seconds later, and Robert took my arm and pulled me over to a spot behind the main camera. “We’ll watch from over here,” he said, pushing me into a foldout chair.
Several people were slipping into black robes and white masks on the other side of the clearing. “Is that them?” I asked in a low voice, heart thudding. “The people you’re going to kill?”
Robert shook his head. “I told you,wedon’t kill anyone. We hire people for that.”
“You know what I mean,” I snapped.
He dipped his chin in a nod and waved a hand at the robed people. “They’re new members of the DC Schöneberg chapter. They’re acting as extras in the project,” he said. “Trust me, you’ll know when the real actors arrive.”
I swallowed thickly, wishing he’d stop referring to the victims as ‘actors’.
A piercing scream erupted from the woods, and I whipped my head around to look. Several black-clad men were dragging a group of men and women into the clearing from the same path Robert and I walked down earlier. The captured men and women were all naked except for beaded masks covering the top half of their faces.
“Please don’t do this,” I said, turning to Robert. “Let them go.Please.”
I knew my begging and pleading was useless, but I couldn’t stop myself from doing it anyway.
He pressed his lips into a tight line and grabbed my wrist to keep me still. “Just sit and watch,” he said.
My head spun with sickness as I watched the proceedings. The victims were forced to their knees near the bronze bull and positioned in a circle with their backs facing each other. Then they were bound together by their wrists with a thick red rope. They all sobbed and screamed the whole time, but no one did anything to help or soothe them.
