“So we staged it,” he finishes. “Made it look like that guy stole from them and ran. For now, they bought it.”
I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this, gang wars, secret societies, cults. It’s all too much, but I can’t stop now. I steady my breath, blink hard, and ask the next question.
“If you’re like a secret society, or maybe not-so-secret since everyone in town knows, do you have rituals?” I ask. “Sacrifice goats? Chant in Latin? That kind of thing?”
He huffs, not quite a laugh. “No goat blood. Not that I’ve seen, anyway.”
Thatanywaymakes something sharp prickle at the back of my neck.
“There are rituals,” he admits, his voice low. “Latin is involved, but a lot of the old ones have been retired. Or so they say. Others we’re not allowed to know about yet. Not until we’ve proven ourselves.”
“What kind of rituals?”
Thomson shakes his head. “That’s the thing. No one really talks about them. Not unless you’ve been initiated into that level. Some of the older guys know more, but they keep it secret. It’s more in the things theywon’tsay that gives us an idea of what’s coming.”
I don’t breathe. I don’t blink.
Thomson glances sideways at me. “The few we do take part in? They’re more about pushing us past the edge. Loyalty rites. Endurance trials. Punishments.”
“Punishments?” I whisper.
He gives me a look. One that saysyou don’t want to know.
My mind flashes to the scars on Carrson’s back. Raised. Jagged. Precise.
The silence stretches, thick and uneasy, so full I feel it pressing against my skin. Suffocating me.
Finally, I speak. “These rituals,” I ask cautiously, “they’re just for the Sons? Or do they involve the Daughters too?”
His gaze sharpens.
“Some of them,” he says. “Especially the older ones.”
Something in the way he saysolder onesmakes my stomach twist.
“The bond,” I press. “That’s a ritual too, isn’t it?”
“It is,” he says slowly, like he’s weighing every word.
I lean in. “What is it? Do I have to do it?”
“It involves blood. Human, not goat. It’s a blood oath between the bonded,” he mutters. “The Father performs it, but Carrson’s father is busy. There’s a chance you won’t have to do it, not unless his dad comes back into town.” He stares into the distance. “There’s a second part to it, but so ancient no one really does it anymore. My dad let it slip out once, when he was drunk.”
“What’d he say?” I ask.
“‘Bonded in blood, sealed by sight.’ That’s all he said.”
Bonded in blood.
Sealed by sight.
The words land like a chill down my spine.
My stomach flips. I taste something metallic at the back of my throat.
Seeing my face, Thomson rushes to explain. “It’s ceremonial. Obsolete. I do know for that version, everyone’s supposed to attend, the Fathers, the Mothers, the full High Council, but no one has time to fly in for some ancient rite when they’re too busy running corporations and rigging elections.”
I try to ignore the way my hands have gone clammy. “What about Carrson?” I ask, my voice barely audible. “Why is he so obsessed with me…” I swallow hard, “obeyinghim?”
