Page 20 of Love to Defy You
Every person in the circle lifts their fists and thumps their chest in unison. “In death, we become gods! We are gods amongmen!” Their words echo around us until they fade into a ringing quiet.
Fuck, they are delusional zealots. I glance around the chamber, looking for an exit, but I cannot see past the hoods surrounding us.
The head figure, who I presume is their leader, continues. “Each of you comes from the most elite families in the world. Many of your fathers, and your father’s fathers, are a part of our society, which spans the globe at the world’s most elite institutions. Our brotherhood transcends borders and politics, and it is their immortal legacy that carries on with you.”
Surely notmyfather. The thought of Grigor Kurochkin donning a hood and mask to join a secret fraternity is ludicrous.
Is that what this is? A college fraternity? I thought that was mainly an American custom, but I could be wrong. Or Freemasonry, perhaps?
“Each of you will be given the opportunity to join our ancient brotherhood and become a god,” the leader says. “But first, you must prove yourselves worthy in a series of trials, much like the labors of Heracles. Completing these trials will grant you immortality, but should you fail, your souls will remain here, in the Underworld.”
He steps aside and gestures toward the back wall behind him. The circle of figures parts, revealing a stone altar at the top of a short set of stairs. Gasps erupt on either side of me, and the naked, redheaded guy falls backward, trying to scramble away despite his wrists being bound behind his back.
The lanky guy beside me leans in and whispers, “Are those skulls? I don’t have my glasses.” He tips his chin at the altar.
I follow the line of his gaze to the wall behind the altar, and that’s when I realize it isn’t built from cobblestone.
It’s built from human skulls, stacked one on top of the other like grotesque, uneven bricks.
“Surely, they’re fake,” I mutter back.
The leader chuckles and steps forward, approaching me with slow steps until he’s towering over my kneeling form. “Trust me, Kurochkin, they are very, very real.”
I crane my neck to look at him, and I stare into the holes of his mask where dark eyes stare back at me, barely visible in the shadow of his hood. But I meet his gaze and hold it.
He knows me, but do I know him?
Those who are kneeling grow agitated, and a few more scramble backward to put distance between them and the wall of skulls.
“Let us go,” someone begs. “Please, I’ll pay you whatever you want!” A few more chime in with similar sentiments.
The figure continues to stare down at me, but I refuse to blink. At last, he glances away and approaches the guy who spoke. “Your money won’t save you. Only your fists.”
Another hooded figure breaks from the circle and produces a knife from inside his cloak. The guy on the floor trembles and tries to scoot away, but the shrouded leader blocks his path while his accomplice cuts the ropes behind his back.
“You’ll be the first to enter the trial, along with Kurochkin.” The leader glances at me, and although I can’t see his face, I sense he’s throwing me a smug look.
Someone steps behind me and starts cutting at my ropes. As soon as he saws through them, my arms fall at my sides, and I can’t help but groan in relief. My left arm is numb from the prior nerve damage in my bicep, and I shake it out to bring some feeling back into it.
“Welcome to your first trial,” the leader announces, spreading his arms wide. “The Trial of Strength. These trials are designed to weed out the weak. They will bring you to your breaking point, and only the strongest among you will survive. But each trial you complete successfully brings you one step closer to immortality.”
The person behind me hauls me to my feet, and I’m ushered forward to stand next to the other victim who was singled out.
The hooded figure in charge claps us both on the shoulders. “In this trial, there are no rules. The victor is named when his opponent can no longer stand, so you must do anything and everything to win. This is the only trial where the loser can leave this chamber with his life, but if you die in battle, it is the will of the gods.”
Once again, the hooded figures thump their chests. “In death, we become gods! We are gods among men!”
“But no one shall speak of what they see here tonight. If you do, we will know.” The leader retreats to the circle, leaving me and my so-called opponent standing by ourselves. “Now... fight!”
Hooded figures stand vigil around us, and the row of bound captives divides the circle in half, closing us in with no escape. I stare at the guy facing me, who stares back with a confused expression that must match my own.
He’s about my height and weight, so without knowing anything about his athletic ability, I’d say I could take him if I had to.
But I don’t want to. I’m not going to degrade myself by being tonight’s entertainment for a fraternity of bored fuckboys with powerful daddies and too much money. The skulls are for show, the threat of death is symbolic, and the hoods and masks are pure theater. It’s all smoke and mirrors to create the illusion of a secret society.
I turn to face the leader. “I don’t want any part of this. Let me go.”
The hooded figure shakes his head.No.
