There isn’t much other science to the group. They believe sex holds power because it can result in life, and when they don’t have a vessel to manipulate or anyone to kill, carnal pleasure becomes the sacrifice.
Normally, I can distract myself while members explore my body by retreating to the recesses of my brain where I feel and see nothing. I check out, as if watching myself be used fromabove, but tonight I’m having a hard time getting there. My skull pulses, the echoes of a migraine still wearing off even though I took medicine over an hour ago, and I wish I could peel the skin from my bones.
I tense beneath the fledgling’s touch even as she takes my hand, shoving one of my fingers through the mouth hole in her white mask. White and gold are the colors of anonymity down here, usually depending on a member’s rank. White is low, meaning this brunette with tan skin wouldn’t normally even be granted access to me.
When I glance across the cavern, I see the Director standing with her hands on her hips, watching. It’s clear she sent this patron my way and is waiting for some sort of reaction, though I’m not surewhat.
I haven’t rejected others in the past because they were too close in status to me. I simply have no interest in any of the people here.
Before the beginning of the semester, I didn’t have interest in anyone at all.
The ache scratching my skull intensifies, and I grind my teeth, wondering if that’s the test.
If they’ve been watching me.
It’s not a secret Death’s Teeth has eyes everywhere, and though I haven’tactuallydone anything since Elle enrolled as a student, it’s possible they’ve seen me somehow.
Seen her near me, which is bad. Pythia posting her picture likely didn’t help, even if they didn’t say who she was. I doubt it would take long to figure out.
The only thing Death’s Teeth wants less than my refusal to cooperate as Incarnate is their Incarnate fraternizing with an Anderson.
Given our ancestors’ pasts, the idea of a Dupont with an Anderson would be history repeating itself.
Considering the lengths they went to last semester to try and scare her brother and sister off, I don’t want to know what they might do if they realize all three are at Avernia. Don’t want to know think of how they’ll try to keep the curse from manifesting.
The Director continues staring, arms folded over her chest. Always watching me through the holes in that snake-adorned mask.
Sometimes, I wonder if she was there the night Bellamy died. If she was one of the people who?—
Throat burning, I yank my fingers from the fledgling’s mouth and push to my feet, tucking my cold hands into my cloak sleeves.
“Is everything okay?” the Director asks in that strange, obscured voice of hers. Like she has some kind of modulator hidden inside the mask that distorts it.
Though there is anonymity outside and within the group, the Director is the only member whose identity is fully unknown. I’m not even sure how she came into her role or how they choose a replacement, nor do I particularly care.
Seeking information in this organization is dangerous. They want you stupid and complacent so they can engage in their lewd rituals and human sacrifices in peace.
And they want me to pick who fucks and dies.
“Everything is fine.” I shuffle back a step, away from the chair and the fledgling. “I’m not feeling well is all.”
“Ah.” The Director reaches out, a pale palm pressing against the side of my face. “Indeed, you’re quite warm. Perhaps you’d like to take a dip in the lake? That’s been known to cool members down.”
I swallow over the stickiness in my esophagus. “I’m afraid I’m not equipped for a swim.”
“You know we don’t taint Lerna’s water withequipment. Only those who resemble the way they came to earth may enterher.” She clicks her tongue, the exact shade of her eyes eclipsed by shadows.
“Swimming with a migraine is a bad idea,” I note, even as the fledgling gets to her feet and slinks over, grabbing for my arm again. I pull out of reach, meeting the Director’s gaze. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Your father said you’d be squeamish this semester,” she calls as I turn to the entrance. “I didn’t think it’d mean you’d actually attempt to withdraw.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“You’ve not stayed through an entire ceremony in months. The organization sees you scaling back. They don’t like it.”
“Then tell them to release me.”
“I’m afraid they won’t allow that. You’re in too deep, and they fear losing you. Perhaps if you did something to sweeten the deal…”
