Page 30 of Crown of Thorns
“Did you write this?”
He beams. “Do you like the handwriting? I’m good with cursive letters.”
“Louis…” I turn the letter back and forth. Honestly, I’m at a loss for words.
“Inside your office, in the lowest drawer of your bookcase, you’ll find your attire for the gathering.”
“Myattire?”
“Yes. Top secret. Keep it there, the drawer locked, or we’ll both be in trouble.”
My insides roar like a beast cornered, mouth parched with the sharp dryness of panic and disbelief. “What’s in the drawer, Louis?”
“Your cloak and mask.”
“Cloak and mask?”
“The gathering starts at midnight. Do you want me to pick you up from home after your…plans? I filled up the fridge in your office as well, in case you wanted to wait there.”
“Wait there…” I echo. The organ still plays. My thoughts are a mess. Fear slithers down my spine like a cold breath against bare skin. Questions, I have so many of them. But my survival instincts kick in, and I know I can’t trust anyone. Not after what happened last time I let my guard down. Not after the shelters, the betrayal, the way promises turned to ash. Trust is how you get gutted. I never could. “No…I’ll be waiting in my office.”
Louis winks. “It will be a night to remember, baby. I’ll come and pick you up a little before twelve. Be ready.” Then he picks up his scarf and ties it around my neck, using the ends to pull me in for a toe-curling kiss that takes off the jagged edges of my trepidation.
“Now you’re nice and warm, baby.”Kiss. “I already miss you.”Kiss. “Keep your phone with you.”Kiss. “And text me back. I love getting messages from you.”Kiss. “Oh, and don’t bring your knife. We wouldn’t want to get in trouble.”
PART II
BETRAYAL
“Tonight, we celebrate the past, the present—and the cruel illusion of change!” His black cloak swirled like a living shadow around his shoulders as he gripped the golden cane crowned with a cut-out crow. A serpent’s hiss in the stale air.
“You are the nation’s pride, our elite. Your ancestors survived the French Revolution.”
The words echoed hollowly, bouncing off cold stone walls, carrying a chill that seeped into my bones. What the hell was he talking about?
Silence stretched like a suffocating shroud. Anticipation curled in my chest, a dark coil tightening. I wasn’t sure what to expect, and that uncertainty clawed at my throat.
The man’s sharp gaze swept the crowd, a predator’s stare missing nothing. It landed on me with an icy weight. I fought the urge to flee, my heart pounding like a funeral drum.
“Say it,” he hissed, tone like poisoned silk curling through the chamber.
“Loyalty,” the crowd boomed in unison. “Respect. Tradition. Sacrifice.”
“That’s right.” The old man jabbed his cane through the air like a dagger, beak pointing to a trembling figure in the crowd. The man winced but stepped forward.
I watched, eyes wide and stomach knotting in disgust, as the old man sank into his chair and spread his legs. Surely he wasn’t…
“It’s not easy to sustain this brotherhood within these ancient walls,” he murmured, voice low and venomous, “with students wandering corridors daily, teachers and staff among us. Yet, we endure.”
The chosen man crawled between the old man’s thighs. I squeezed my eyes shut as revulsion coiled tighter inside me.
“Participation is for brothers only. Invitations granted solely by fathers.” He grabbed a handful of hair, jerking theman’s head back until he hissed. The old man smirked, using his cane to open his cloak and reveal a thick, swollen cock.
“Unwanted guests, so many.” Slowly, he pushed the man onto his waiting shaft. “That’s it…make me feel good.” He sighed heavily, leaning back.
“Change is coming. The illusion stamped in our past. Our ancestors watch us, proud and devoted to the past and present. Steadfast, patriotic.”
The crowd’s murmur dissolved as a figure in a white-fur-trimmed hood entered, voice cracking like brittle bones.
