Twisted Circles (Secret Society 2)

Suddenly, I felt a presence behind me, and froze. I’d been caught. I’d been caught and my brain wasn’t switching on my flight response. A hand came over mine over my mouth and another hauled me up. I began to kick and scream beneath our hands. I wiggled to try to get the person to drop me. It was no use. Whoever had gotten a hold of me was stronger than me by a lot. The door opened and closed and suddenly I was back in the round hall between the two doors, still cradled in someone’s arms and fighting to be let go.

“Stop fucking moving. I’m going to let go of your mouth now and set you down. Don’t panic.” It was Adam.

Don’t panic? I was hyperventilating, my air coming into my lungs quicker than it could get out. My tears continued to fall, blurring my vision, as if I knew the person on that table. I didn’t. I didn’t have to. I knew those monks. Not those monks, but, thanks to Karen, I knew monks. I’d known monks and nuns and clergy and that was not something they’d approve of. Instead of setting me down, Adam carried me up the dark, winding cobble stairwell. He opened the dungeon door and kept walking down the hall until he made a left, or right, I wasn’t sure with the disorientation and wooziness in my head I was experiencing, and finally, in there, he let go of my mouth and deposited me on some kind of couch.

“You okay?” he asked. “Breathe. Deep breaths. Focus on your breaths.” He positioned me so that I was sitting down, even going as far as placing my elbows on my legs and holding my arms there so they wouldn’t wobble off. “Breathe.”

I did. I focused. Breathed in, breathed out. I thought of Dr. Maslow, who had always instructed that I “Breathe in the good things, expel the bullshit.” In my head, I said those words as I breathed. When I finally felt like I’d gotten a grip, I wiped my tears quickly with my palms and looked up at Adam, who was kneeling between my legs.

“What the hell did I just see?” My voice was hoarse, the screams I’d contained ripping the tone from it.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you . . . ” I shook my head, covering my face. “You’re not going to tell me. You wouldn’t tell me. You’re the president of this freakish cult. Of course you wouldn’t tell me.”

“I don’t know.” His voice carried and brought my gaze back to his. “I really don’t know.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“That’s too bad.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t change the fact that I’m not lying.”

“I should have left with your brother.”

“My brother?” His expression turned serious. He glanced away for a long moment, staring at the portrait beside us. I had no idea who it was, but it was a man wearing a black little hat and a cross. A priest of sorts. Adam looked at me again. “My brother can’t help you.”

“And you can?” I nodded toward the back of the room. “You won’t even tell me why I just saw a group of monks potentially raping a woman.”

“I don’t know the answer to that.” His jaw set.

“Your brother said you were going to bury me.”

“What else did Nolan decide to tell you?”

“Not much.”

“He shouldn’t have spoken to you. He knows better.”

“Free country and all.”

“Not in here.” Adam’s lip tilted. “You’re under our command in here.”

“Are you going to do to me what they’re doing to that woman?”

“No.”

“Are you going to bury me?” I swallowed, waiting.

“Yes.”

Yes. No hesitation.

“Are . . . are you going to kill me?”

“No.”

“You’re going to bury me alive?”

“Yes.”

Again, no hesitation. My heart skipped. Where was I and who were these people? I realized that I could scream, I could punch him, I could try to run, but I wouldn’t get very far.

“Is that part of the initiation?” I licked my lips, mentally preparing myself.

“Yes.”

“Were you buried?”

“We all were.”

“Has anyone died?” My lip quivered again. I blinked my eyes, more tears fell. I wiped them quickly.

He didn’t answer, but with the way his lips set into a hard line, he didn’t have to.

Chapter Seven

It was a chilly night. I was grateful I’d put the cloak back around my shoulders. It was hiding my nervous shiver as we walked outside. People from the party had spilled out into the front lawn, still wearing masks, seemingly unaware of the activities happening in the room beside where they were partying. Adam was standing close to me and I wondered if it was to ensure that I wouldn’t take off running. I turned to ask him just that, when we heard the unmistakable sound of sirens and tires crunching the gravel of the front of the house.