Page 49 of Don't Look Away

I jump up onto the table awkwardly, then position myself so I’m sitting on the edge, facing the door, my feet dangling. With my hands gripping the edge of the table, I inhale slowly, trying to control my breathing.

You’re doing this for Bree.

You’re doing this for Bree.

I’m repeating that mantra inside my head when Sara and Lindsay move to the door.

“Wait, where are you going?” I ask, panicked. “Aren’t you staying for the ritual?” I don’t know either of them very well, but I’d feel better with them here. It’d make me feel less alone.

Sara half-turns to me with a smile that’s meant to be comforting but isn’t. “We can’t stay. We’re not senior members. But you’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

“Okay, but what do I do? No one—” Sara and Lindsay are out the door, shuffling off before I can even finish my sentence. “—has told me anything,” I finish with a huff.

Okay, no problem. I’ve got this. It can’t be that bad, right? I mean, Wyn, Sara, Lindsay, and all the other girls survived it…

I’m waiting for maybe three minutes when the door opens again. I sit up straighter as I watch several members file in, all wearing gold masks, and cloaked in the navy blue robes I saw earlier. They’re all chanting something. I try to latch on to any of the words, but the chant is in a foreign language of some kind. Probably Latin.

The guy in front is carrying an incense holder on a bronze chain that billows with white smoke. A musty sage-like smell fills the windowless room.

As they move deeper into the room, they form a tight circle around me. As soon as the circle is complete, the chant cuts off abruptly, and they all stand there in creepy silence for what feels like an eternity.

“Lux Anderson,” the incense person says, who I’m guessing is the leader of this whole thing—and obviously one of the Sacred Sons. “You come before us with the desire to become a child of the Society of the Burning Crown.”

I grip the edge of the table more tightly and clear my throat. “Yes.”

“You come of your own free will.”

Yeah, that’s definitely Lucas’ voice.

Another swallow. “Yes.”

“You agree to serve the order, to do whatever it requires of you without question or hesitation.”

Dear God. “Yes,” I say, practically choking on the word.

“Very well.” He bows his head. “You will now be given the opportunity to show your willingness to submit to the order. You may halt the ceremony at any point, but you will be escorted off the premises, and forbidden to enter forevermore..”

It’s clear Lucas has memorized this from a script that’s probably several generations old. I mean, who uses words like “forevermore” these days? I’ve honestly only ever heard it connected to old-ass poets like Edgar Allen Poe.

“Affirm if you understand.”

“Got it.” I clear my throat again. “I mean, yes.”

It would have been nice if someone had walked me through this process beforehand, even if they couldn’t tell me what the actual ritual is. To be fair, thought, maybe they usually do, but we’re a bit rushed in my case.

I exhale slowly as the leader hands his incense to the person to his right, then takes a chalice from the person on his left. Holding it in both hands, he approaches.

“You may drink deeply from the chalice of knowledge.”

Chalice of knowledge?Jezus. Tell me you’re a cult without telling me you’re a cult.

You’re doing this for Bree.

I take the chalice and hold it up to my lips, hesitating for a split second, before tipping it up and taking a healthy swallow. It’s sweet, like flat orange soda, but I can’t tell if it’s spiked or not. Doesn’t really taste like it.

I try to hand the chalice back to him, but he just stares at me through his mask, unmoving. After a couple of seconds I get the hint, and drain the contents of the chalice,thenhand it back. He takes it, passing it off to the person on his left.

Someone leaves the circle and walks to the wall to lower the lights, then everyone begins chanting again, a low, rhythmic hum that lulls me into a sleepy, contented feeling, though, it could also be the drink they gave me, which I now suspect was laced with something.

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