Page 6 of Pretty Little Fears

Thankfullythe ceremony is held on the opposite side of the university, which will hopefully allow my shirt time to dry on the walk there.

Fifteenminutes later, we arrive at the ceremony location.It’shidden behind one of the mausoleums inBlackwood’scemetery.There’san entire system of tunnels and rooms housed underground, beneath the gigantic angel statue and the graves in the cemetery.It'sthe tallest statue, matching that of the two neighboring mausoleums on both sides.

Weset foot into the cemetery’s entrance andIrub my hand down my chest and abs, flattening down my shirt.It’sstill wet, but not as bad as it was before.Thesmell of caramel still penetrates my nostrils andI’vepaired the smell with those beautiful brown eyes that haven't left my mind once.

“Youreek,”Grimmremarks with a smirk.

“Fuckyou.Let’sget this over with.”Isay with an irritated sigh.Ilet my eyes slide around the cemetery.Itfeels completely empty besides our presence, save for the souls that are trapped here.

Theeerie atmosphere never did bother me though,I'vebeen closer to a far worse evil.Thesound of loose gravel crunching under our boots is the only noise to be heard besides the cliche crow in the towering trees.

“Ihate this place.Itgives me the fucking creeps.”Grimmshudders.

“Yougive me the creeps,”Isay while rolling my eyes.Wecome to a stop at the statue andIlet my gaze roam over its sinister view.Theonce white angel has chipped under the eyes, creating what looks like black tears flowing out of its weeping stare.Itslarge wings have cracked over time, as broken as those who lie beneath us.

Grimmreaches into his back pocket and retrieves the crest needed for entry.Hehands it over to me andIdo another sweep of the place, making sure no one is here.Confirmingthe coast is clear,Ilean forward and insert the brotherhood crest into the angel’s pleading hands.

Thereis a resounding click from the back of the mausoleum to the left of us.Takingthe crest out, we head over to the backside of the mausoleum where the door has unlocked, allowing us access to the stairs leading underground.Asthe door closes behind us, the dim lights on the sides of the walls automatically turn on one by one down the stairs and tunnel.

Thecurved ceiling of the tunnel is lined with dark bricks and the smell of stale, copper air is inescapable.Makingour way down the tunnel, we take a few turns before approaching the large ceremony room.Thelow murmur of voices bounces around the cement walls.

Myeyes wander around all the bare-faced members.Ona nearby table lay black beaked masks with slightly curved horns coming out of the top.They’recomplete with a red cross that looks as if it's dripping blood in the center, between the eyes.GrimmandIwill be receiving those today, along with the other seniors.

Allseniors who have completed initiation into the brotherhood have black masks.Lower-classmen will receive a red skull mask, covering only the bottom half of their face.Thebrotherhood is all about status and one way it is shown, is through these masks.

Wehaven’t even been here for five minutes andIalready want to fucking leave.Grimm'seyes scan the members until he spotsEliandJaden, our other roommates, across the room.Hegives them a nod as we walk over.

“Hey,”Eligreets us with a small nod and a straight face.Jadensteps closer to give me a pat on the back and immediately crinkles his nose when he’s just inches away.

“Whatis that smell,Em?” he asks with furrowed brows.

“Apretty little thing spilled her coffee all over him”Grimmchuckles before his eyes widen and a suggestive comment leaves his mouth. “Hey, maybe she can do whatLoreleicouldn’t.”Instantly, my spine stiffens as the need to be territorial skirts through my veins.Iswat him on the back of the head.

“Don’ttalk about her like that or your plot in the cemetery will be filled a lot sooner than originally planned.”Iquip.Itmight sound likeI’mjoking, but by the thrumming in my blood,IknowI’mnot.Hismouth drops open and he jokingly scoffs, holding his hand to his chest.

Thechilling sound of the waterphone brings all conversations to a halt as the lights dim down, turning everyone into shadowy silhouettes, a warning sign that the ceremony is about to begin.Jadenleans against the wall with his arms crossed, clearly not wanting to be here any more thanIdo.

Asthe waterphone fades out, the president of the brotherhood, daddy dearest, appears.Hestrides over to the table with the assortment of masks.Theoldest members of the brotherhood, the elders, stand behind him in their black masks and begin a quiet hum as the first row of senior students are called up to collect their masks.

Oncethe upperclassmen are situated in their respective seats, the process repeats with the underclassmen.Wheneveryone is seated again, my father saunters to a stone bowl placed at the center of the room.

“MatthewBurox,” he thunders, announcing the first initiate.Matthewstands and makes his way over to the bowl.He’shanded a long thin knife to slice his palm.AsMatthewdrags the blade across his palm, he hisses as the elders switch from a hum to a hushed chant.

“Vis,Vindicta,Sanguis” meaning strength, vengeance, and blood.Matthew’sblood drips from his open palm like a flowing river and into the stone bowl, appearing black due to the low lighting.Hethen repeats the chant back to the rest of us and returns to his seat.

Withevery new initiate the chanting grows louder.

“Vis,Vindicta,Sanguis.”

Theroom grows silent as we wait for the next name to get called.

“EmmettBlackwood,'' my father’s voice booms.Ilean forward and push myself off the wall while all the beaks and skulls turn my way.Itfeels like they’re attempting to stare into my soul, past the metaphorical and physical masksIwear.Comingto a stop in front of the bowl,I'mhanded the lengthy blade.

Liftingmy left hand,Itake the pointed tip of the knife and press into the upper part of my palm untilIfeel the skin break and a bead of blood begins to appear.Iangle the knife lower and start to slice across my palm, watching as the skin splits open and crimson liquid cascades from beneath the serrated blade.

Droppingthe knife next to me,Ihold my hand sideways over the bowl and allow the blood to drip down my palm as it paints my skin.

“Vis,Vindicta,Sanguis,”Igrit out.Thechanting resumes asItake my bleeding palm and head back to my seat, leaving a trail of drops.

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