Page 50 of Pretty Secrets

The bullhorn sounds.

A few cocky fuckers jump right in while the others are too busy staring at the girls in nothing but the skin they were born in. I growl at the asshole next to us who hasn’t taken his eyes from Eden. His partner elbows him, and he jumps in, gasping when he emerges at the surface.

After that, my attention is right back on Eden. She and Oliver share a look, then walk to the wall and jump. My heart constricts when she goes under. The Elders are definitely fucking with her. Grandfather must think she’s here to shake things up. To ask about her sister, maybe?

Then why not just deny her membership into the Knights? Why go through all this torture?

Oh, I forgot. This is the secret society that not only likes to lord over all things, but to teach people lessons too.Everythingis a lesson, or so my grandfather tells me.

Eden emerges, treading water to keep herself on the surface. River droplets cling to her lashes. Her body shakes uncontrollably, but she doesn’t cry out in shock. Or laugh like some of the others. Or do anything, really. She just keeps herself in the water like a good little Pledge…even though her dead blue eyes say another story.

The bullhorn sounds, and Barclay and I walk to the ledge to help our Pledges out. Oliver is white as fuck, the veins on his wrists a pale blue in stark contrast to the rest of his body. He hugs himself as he strides toward the hot coals. The embers pop and hiss when teardrops of water fall onto the hearth-like circle.

Someone grunts, and the others hesitate briefly until Grandfather yells, “Get on the fucking coals!”

I nudge Oliver forward. They’re not going to sound the horn until everyone has their feet in the embers.

Eden closes her eyes, stepping onto the coals with a grimace, her fingers flexing.

I peer around. Everyone else has followed suit, including the prince.

Five seconds go by.

Ten.

Painful, animal-like grunts escape Pledges lungs.

Before I think they’re not going to be able to take much more, the horn sounds. Thank fuck.

Both Oliver and Eden jump out of the coals. This time, they don’t waste any precious seconds waiting to plummet into the water. They want to.

Barclay steps up beside me. “Is it me, or does this get worse every year?”

“Upping the ante, I guess,” I shrug as I keep my gaze peeled on her.

He grunts in agreement.

I check on Oliver briefly before something in the water catches my eye. Long tendrils bubble to the surface. At first, I think it’s seaweed, but it’s not green and definitely doesn’t have a slimy consistency. It’s a straw color.

Strands of…pale blonde.

Eden recognizes it a second before I do, and her gasp connects the last remaining piece for me.

It’s hair. Her sudden lurch to get away from it makes it shift. The head turns over in the water, and plastic, lifeless eyes peer toward the star-dotted sky.

It’s a model head. A model of a very blonde woman with the same pale hair as Eden. The same pale hair her sister had…

Eden’s horrified gaze gives way to a desperate scream that curdles my stomach.

On the forehead of the mannequin head are two words: a name.

Delilah Astor.

22

Alaric

Eden’s taste on my tongue had been slowly fading, but her scream will ring through my ears for eternity. I’m not sure I’ll ever be rid of it.

---