“The Washington chapter has decided to model their Market like ours, and we’ll be there just in time for it. I hope to see you there.” He extends his fake-tanned hand, and I take it, nodding once more.
“Membership quota reached at fifty-one percent. Unlocking Ritual Chamber doors. Please proceed to the Ritual Chamber.”
“Oh, and congratulations on your grandfather. Perhaps someday this will be you, huh?” He grins at me, and that sours my stomach.
Yes. Someday it will be, but not for the same reasons as my grandfather.
The crowd moves toward the Ritual Chamber, and Kenji and I go with the flow. We migrate toward the spots on the floor, red circles that perfectly space all members participating in the ritual. The altar rises from the center of the room, a white marble circular stage veined with faint gray. It gleams under low ambient light, while a thin ring of LED flameless candles traces the outer edge.
It’s a common misconception when you join Echelon Vanguard. You assume rituals happen in dark, rank caverns with fire and scrolls of ancient chants, where the members wear hoods and robes.
When in reality, we stay dressed in our suits and allow the shadows of the room to disguise our faces. Only the Eight wear red robes when there’s the Offering.
I swallow, thinking about it. Could I ever do that? To join the Eight, could I ever offer the one person I care about, what the society sees as a hesitation? I imagine Thea chained there, to the small D-shaped hooks embedded in the marble. They aren’t killed or raped during the ceremony, which is surprising for EV, but they can’t return to their lives. Most, if not all, are permanently dismissed by the one they trusted to bring themhere. Thrust into EV’s servitude in some capacity. Sometimes they take on roles tending to the Market girls, and other times they are forced to serve EV members during the week. Typically, the Eight can’t stand to look at those they’ve Offered, so they relinquish them to other chapters across the US. Either way, Offerings are not free, ever again.
“Welcome, Echelon Vanguard members,” the feminine EV voice says. “Please direct your attention toward the rite doors. Thank you.”
Kenji rolls his eyes. “I need a drink,” he whispers.
I clench my fists at my sides as the doors open and in walk the seven, soon to be the Eight. Dressed in their red robes, they walk to their spot on the floor to form a semicircle around the marble stone. Graves leads them, and my grandfather brings up the back.
“To rise into leadership, a member must prove he is willing to sever empathy, identity, and personal morality. An Offering, male or female, is selected by the current leadership as a symbol of weakness. The initiate must sever all compassion during the Severing.” Graves’s voice booms across the Ritual Chamber.
I close my eyes, the baseball-sized emotion growing in my throat. Everything is derailed. They know about Thea. There would never be another option for me in the Severing. They’d pick her, and I’ve effectively lost all credibility with the other girls having taken Thea from the Market. Their once alleged “loyalty” that I was working toward to perhaps use them for the Severing is now beyond reach.
“Will the initiate, Henry DuPont, please step forward.”
My grandfather does so.
“The initiate has been stripped of all symbols of personal identity that connects him to the outside world. He wears the robe of the Eight and the society’s black cloth around his chest to cover his heart.”
The Eight fold their hands in front of them and together they recite the ritual rite.
“To lead, we must not flinch.
To rise, one must sever.
Mercy is the vice of the weak.
Obedience is forged in the pain of the heart.”
Graves steps forward. “Bring forth the Offering.”
My grandfather stands still, shoulders stiff, hands clasped loosely in front of him. His expression is neutral, as if he rehearsed this. But I can tell he’s nervous. His eyes flicker a little too fast toward the rite doors, and when they open his throat bobs.
“Please! What’s going on?” the familiar woman’s voice screams, and my grandfather’s face pales despite his best efforts. It’s not Lena, not at all. His head snaps in the Offering’s direction, and before she comes into view, I know …
It’s her.
The woman who gave me up to him.
His daughter.
Mymother.
My grandfather closes his eyes briefly and braces for her, and when she comes into view, I want to vomit. The Offering is brought in, blindfolded and dressed in a muted red slip slit up to the top of her thighs. Muscled forward by two Chamber guards, she fights the best she can, but unable to see, her movements are limited.
The room is quiet aside from her sobbing pleas. “Where am I? Please! What are you doing to me?” My grandfather’s ashen face trembles. My mother hasn’t been seen or heard from in years. Lost in her world of art and love for my father. I was the one thing in her life that held her back from the future she wanted. I haven’t thought about her much, just here and there. I’ll admit when my grandfather said he was up for the Eight,the thought crossed my mind that they might select her as the Offering. How they even found her is impressive because she doesn’t stay in one place long—a wanderer at heart.
