Page 1 of Summoner of Sins

PROLOGUE

Max adjusted the mask on his face, looking at the five other men at the table meant for ten.

The usual candles were lit, casting the meeting in the perfect mix of shadow and light.

“Welcome to our monthly meeting,” The Duke of Ironheart said. He sat to Max’s right and was known as the Master of Games. It was his job to create and run the monthly challenges in which the men participated. Each challenge tested their prowess either physically, mentally, or sexually, the latter being the Master’s favorite. The man was a first-rate rake.

“Is it business as usual, then?” Lord Jameson asked. His club name was the Devil of Debauchery, and he ran many of the gambling nights they liked to partake in between regular meetings.

Most of the men were unknown to each other outside these walls.

Max was the only one who knew them all because he was the Summoner. The man responsible for calling these men when it was necessary.

He rarely spoke which meant most people thought him mute. It made him ideal for the role. Men trusted another man with their secrets when they knew he wouldn’t share them.

“Obviously not,” Ironheart rumbled. “We’ve only got six men when we should have ten.”

Silence met those words. Two men had left their ranks. The Emperor, their leader, and the Keeper of Secrets, was one of the most competent men among them. They’d both married, and their by-laws clearly stated that once a member wed, he was no longer welcome.

Still, the other reason that they’d left, and the reason men like Lord Hubert Cranston were skittish tonight, was that two of their members had been murdered.

Max was in charge of finding the killer. Being involved in a secret society meant contacting the authorities was tricky. This was why Max had been tasked with finding the killers.

They’d tracked down the assassin. It was a man who went by Adam, but he was nothing more than a hired hand. Those who paid for Adam’s services had yet to be brought to justice.

“What are we here for then?” Cranston asked, shifting restlessly in his seat. “We should all be at home, distancing ourselves as much as possible from the club.”

“We’re not running scared,” a massive man, who the club members called Defender, said, and cracked his neck as he spoke, “We are going to fight for what is ours.”

Everyone spoke at once.

Some called for new members to be added, citing safety in numbers. Others argued it would be unfair to bring new people in now, with all that had happened, and another, Eggersby, called for temporary disbandment of the club.

Max let them speak for approximately one minute before he banged the table with his fist, silencing the room.

“Thank you, Summoner,” Ironheart said, chuckling. “Given that I have been thrust into the role of leader, and that Summoner and I are still rooting out the criminals, we will not be sending out invitations for new members this month.” He cleared his throat. “Nor will we have an official challenge. We’ve decided it’s too dangerous. But?—”

“How do you and Summoner make these plans, given that the man doesn’t speak?”

Max had half-expected this question. He’d been certain that the members were going to demand that each reveal their identities to one another. At least then, they’d know who their allies were.

They were being hunted.

Max looked at Ironheart, who nodded back. He’d made a decision. He was going to reveal his identity to not only the club members, but also their enemies. He was about to become bait… With that, he reached behind his head and tilted his mask. The rest of the members watched in stunned silence as the mask fell away.

“May I present to you, Lord Maxwell, son of the Duke of Everly. He is having a ball tomorrow night, and our enemy, the Earl of Whitehouse, has been invited to attend.”

Max heard several gasps, but Lord Hubert turned positively pale.

“We’d like to ask that all of you attend as well. Keep an eye on our enemy, watch and listen. See if you can learn anything meaningful. Lord Maxwell will do his best to keep Lord Whitehouse distracted while you investigate.”

The soft murmurs of the men were in contrast to their loud calls earlier. This was different from anything that had ever happened before. But desperate times…

A chair pushed back, and Lord Cranston stood. “I can’t attend tomorrow night. I’m sorry.” He sprinted for the door.

Max watched him go, with a frown. Odd.

He focused on the men in front of him. “This is what we’ve trained for, men. All of our challenges,” the Master of Games leaned forward meaningfully as he spoke.

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