Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
Forcing the tears away because I don’t want to smudge my skull makeup, I soften. “I know, Mama.”
She watches me carefully, and I hate how it feels like she’s reading every thought in my head.
She probably is. Maybe Aunty Saint taught her how to be a witch.
“Okay!” She claps the necromancy out of the room, pushing up from the chair and hooking her arm through mine. “Let’s go and get you anointed, or whatever it is called.”
We both laugh as we make our way back down the stairs and away from Priest’s—whatever it is. Once we are back in the hallway and Mom has locked the door once again, I follow her back down to my room.
River and Stella turn when they hear the door open, with Tillie and Saint right beside them.
Mom squeezes my hand, but her words are for everyone. Probably even for themselves. “Ready?”
Embraced by the shadows of a crescent moon, we all stand in a line outside the entrance to the tomb. It was my great-great-great-grandfather’s bunker for the Elite Kings Club when he created it one thousand and fifty million whatever years ago. The stories that have come out of this very place are too hellacious to think about. It’s why I stopped reading the Hayes grimoire and left it for Priest. I don’t need more reasons to hate my ancestors.
The graveyard itself in Riverside was assembled around this tomb. It started as the place they’d bury the bodies of every single Swan that they killed. There are so many unmarked graves throughout the forest that every time someone else needs to be buried, they find human remains.
The quiescence of the forest gives me a moment alone with my thoughts, as the skeleton of trees loom over us. Six linked from the blood of our ancestors, and after tonight joined as one. Our morals and what we believe are about to change.
As much as Mom tried to reach inside of me at some final attempt at saving our generation, after tonight, my loyalty will no longer be to her or Dad. It’s to the five of them first before anyone else.
I think that’s why she showed me Priest’s little box of terrors tonight, to prove that it didn’t matter if us girls haven’t been with them for long, that if I felt that way, I needed to pull it in and be the person I need to be for the order.
Stella shifts. “I haven’t been here since I was little.”
“I come here often, obviously,” River replies softly, and none of us question why. Her obsession with death and high heels aside, River visits her sister often. Sometimes we come with her, other times she just wants to be alone.
The exhale of old ghosts curls around my ankles as I tug the black hooded cloak down so it further pools around my feet. We all lift the hood to our head, and I play with the clasp that clicks near my collarbone.
Built from fossilized concrete, moss flowers through the veins of the archaic structure, leaving ropes of ivy to climb freely. A tilleul hue glows from beyond, and I take in the hostile archway and twin columns on either side of the entrance.
Stella plays with her phone. “Of course, we were all born into the creepiest families known to mankind.” She shuts it off when Priest hushes her, before taking the first step forward.
Priest leads, followed by War, Vaden, me, River, and Stella. Not in order of importance.
Priest shifts over his shoulder a little, his eyes bouncing down the line. “In sin, and until the last drop, long live the EKC until our hearts stop.” His skull mirrors mine, if only his ash-colored contacts could hide the emptiness that resides inside of him.
We all repeat the chant, excitement finally zapping through my body. Holy shit. It’s happening. Before I can absorb the thrilling buzz, a morbid overtone of a trumpet horn howls all the way down my spine.
I swipe my damp hands down my thighs in a poor attempt to unknot the anxiety that’s coiled through my body.
I’m ready for this. I’ve been ready since I was fourteen years old.
The swarm of emotions aren’t ideal. I can’t lie.
As soon as we descend into the tomb, I shudder around the earthy perfume of nightmares and death. The recited hum of the EKC mantra echoes up the stairs that lead down to the underground bunker, and fog drowns our ankles the deeper we go. I swear, even the candles that line the walls surge as we pass.
The chants become raucous when we hit the bottom, and I keep my head down to follow Vaden’s steps. Ancient relics carve the way to the shallow platform, along with riddles in our native tongue.
None of us have ever been down here, since it’s considered the holy ground for the Founding Kings. If I listen closely, I’m certain I can hear the screams and cries of every soul that’s trapped here. The sacrificial home to slaughter, cannibalism, necrophilia, and rape. The list could go on, but I’d have to ask Priest.