and I sincerely hoped that my father was somehow spying and listening in on the conversation.
That’s right, Daddy Dearest… I will do whatever it takes.
“Talk a tough game all you want, but we all know that what’s asked of us is far from normal,” Emmett said. Being a relative newcomer, he’d always thought this whole process was nuts. Not that it would stop him from partaking when his time came.
Rafe chuckled as he impatiently checked his watch again. “That’s an understatement.”
An empty bottle of scotch and a half hour later of small talk, the sounding of a pistol being shot from out in the garden finally announced our night was about to begin.
I took a deep breath but then reminded myself I’d seen all this before.
Yes, we were recruits, but we had attended enough ceremonies in the manor as spectators to know exactly what would come next. Most of us practically cut our first teeth on the ancient furniture in this place. Fathers had brought their sons to the Oleander from the beginning of the Order’s creation. We were no strangers to each nook and cranny as well as every hidden and wicked secret the halls possessed.
It was also no surprise to us when a man in a silver cloak arrived from a secret panel in the wall. “Follow,” he said in a low, ominous voice.
Even though we all knew the man was Walker’s father, for this evening, he was only an Elder—nameless, faceless, but all powerful. He held one of the highest positions in The Order of the Silver Ghost, and we were expected to treat him with the utmost respect, admiration, and even fear.
In total and complete silence, we obediently followed in single file down a narrow hallway leading us to the white room.
The White Ballroom. The epicenter of it all.
With Corinthian columns, hand-cast archways and an L-shaped extension into a curved bay, the original owner and founder of the order had it painted completely white, including the flooring. It was rumored that the reason was to show off the natural beauty of women who danced within, but also to expose the dark souls and black secrets of all the guests. The founder held nothing back to contrast the good and evil in such magnificent opulence.
Featuring two massive fireplaces with hand-carved rococo white marble mantles, there was also an original mirror imported from France placed so that the women could see if their ankles or hoops were showing beneath their skirts.
Such scandal would never be tolerated.
Oh, how times had changed…
Over one of the fireplaces, there was another painting of the founder, whose eyes most definitely followed you around the room. I hated how the bastard always watched my every move. When I was a child, the portrait would give me nightmares, and to be quite honest, the ghostly picture still did.
Hand-painted German Dresden porcelain doorknobs and matching keyhole covers were the only way to find the exit out since the door seemed to effortlessly blend in with the white expanse. The haunting purity of the room engulfed any who stood within it.
Deep male voices chanted in Latin. What exactly was spoken in hushed murmurs was top secret and only the Elders were privy to that information. Their voices resonated off the walls as we entered the room and stood in line as army recruits would before their General.
Arms behind our backs, legs shoulder-width apart, we stood at attention.
The ten Elders stood before us, their silver cloaks shadowing the features of their faces. Flanked on both sides of them stood the rest of the members, also wearing the silver cloaks belonging to the Order. Each man held an intricately carved cane with a polished onyx ball on top. With practiced perfection, they all began to pound the cane at their feet. The rhythmic beat of the canes rapping the floor reverberated through my bones.
“Montgomery Kingston,” one of the Elders boomed. The canes continued to beat. “Are you prepared to begin The Trials of Initiation?”
I nodded, already knowing that recruits were not allowed to speak during any ceremony unless given direct permission.
I stared ahead with emotionless features. I could see in the corner of my eyes that the other five men were taking this as seriously as I was, regardless of how they might have shit-talked about it. It was impossible not to.
If it weren’t for the fact that the ceremonies were so rooted inside of us that compliance was just as necessary as breathing, the overpowering dominance in the