Page 80 of Tell Me Why
I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. It takes a full ten seconds for my brain to catch up. “I’m not a member,” I remind him. “So why would I go? Anyway, I have to study.”
He shakes his head and approaches the bed, hand held out to me. “You’re attending. Don’t argue,” he says, his tone hard.
Fuuuck!This derails everything. My whole plan.
Tears prick the backs of my eyes as my mind scrambles for an excuse, but I’m so thrown off by this that all I can think to blurt out is, “I don’t feel well.”
He reaches down and pulls me up by the arm, so I’m standing in front of him. He looks down at me, his eyes narrowing darkly. “Are you plotting something, Eve? Is that why you’re looking for an excuse not to come?”
Oh. Fuck.
“Um, n-no,” I say quickly, stumbling over the word like an idiot. “I just?—”
“Good,” he says, cutting me off. He turns toward the door with the expectation that I’ll follow. “Everyone’s waiting. Let’s go.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, my mind working through all the careful planning that’s crumbling like ash in my palm. The keys suddenly feel like heavy chunks of lead in my pocket. Tonight was supposed to bethenight. But now Christian expects to parade me around at this stupid ritual, and there’s no way to refuse without looking suspicious.
I’ll just have to improvise. What other choice do I have? Maybe there’s a way I can sneak away during or after the ceremony, when everyone is distracted. My plan with Skye is shot to hell, but whatever. Adapt and survive, right? I’m in too deep to turn back now.
“I need a jacket,” I say. The beach is always cold at night, and this dress was meant for the sun.
“Don’t worry about it.” He opens the door and waits for me. “You’ll be wearing a cloak.”
Acloak?Um, okay. Must be a Burning Crown thing, so I don’t ask what that’s about. After being chased around this house half-naked, I’m just happy this ceremony involves any clothing at all.
He watches me, head bowed, as he holds the door open for me, and I brush past him. We leave through the back door, passing Skye and Lowe on our way out. I catch Skye’s shocked gaze as she watches us pass.
It’s pitch black as Christian and I make our way across the back lawn. There’s no moon, nothing to light our path down to the beach. But Christian seems to know every twist and bump by memory, and he offers his hand to help me past the more difficult sections.
When we land on the beach, I remove my sandals to make it easier to walk across the cold sand. Fifty or more cloaked figures have already assembled, their faces concealed behind masks, forming a silent circle around the massive bonfire, hungry flames clawing at the black sky.
Fear rises like bile in my throat. This is creepyas fuck, seriously. On the surface, this looks like some kind of cult, and I have no idea what I was expecting, but thisdefinitelywasn’t it.
Christian is holding my hand, and must feel the hesitance in my step, because he glances back at me. “They’re waiting for us.”
“What is this?” I dig my heels into the sand to slow us down.
As we approach the bonfire, someone steps forward and hands us both a mask, along with a black robe and matching hood. I’m grateful for the thick fabric as I slip it over my shoulders. It creates a barrier against the cold.
Christian pulls me into the heart of the circle, then addresses everyone. “Brothers and Sisters of the Burning Crown,” he intones. “As winter gives way to spring, we gather to renew our sacred covenant.” He raises his hand to indicate the bonfire. “This flame is not merely a light against darkness, but the expression of our enduring principles. It’s a reminder that we must strengthen our position among the powerful and protect our secrets from unworthy hands…” His head slowly turns toward me, and he pins me down with an ice-cold stare. “...identifying those worthy of joining our circle.”
Why does that feel like it was directed at me?
Before I can even guess at what he’s talking about, he continues, “May the Vernal Awakening Ceremony remind us all that the flame of the Burning Crown burns eternally.”
The crowd erupts into a chant, “Semper Fidelis,” over and over, which means God knows what. It sounds like Latin, though the meaning is completely lost on me.
After a few seconds, the chanting dies down, and a large bowl-sized chalice gets passed around. One by one, each person lifts their mask and takes a sip before handing it off to the person next to them. When the chalice gets to me, I cup it with both hands and look down at the mysterious, dark liquid inside.
What is it? Wine? Something else?
Whatever it is, there’s no way I’m drinking it. So, without taking a sip, I quickly hand the chalice to the person next to me.
I don’t even realize Christian is watching me until he walks up with his own chalice and hands it to me. “Everyone must drink from the chalice,” he says. “It’s a symbol of unity.”
“I’m not a member,” I remind himagain. “So I’m not unifying with anyone.”
I can’t see his face behind the dark mask, but I can hear the smirk in his tone when he says, “You and I were pretty unified earlier.”
