Big Ben (See No Evil Trilogy #1) - Nana Malone Page 0,11

clearly. Or maybe I wished this was all a dream. The candles burning all around us sent an incense aroma into the air. And it was so thick I nearly choked with it. Sand-colored stone walls surrounded us in a massive circle, and above us, on the ceiling, was a tapestry depicting the first brothers of the Elite in their black robes and Bauta masks on a hunt.

The same robes and masks we wore now.

In the center of the room, the new initiates lay in their coffins.

I forced myself to stand still. Next to me, I could feel the glare of Bridge on my right. He hated this shit as much as I did, but he was better at hiding his disdain. Maybe because he’d been hiding it for so long.

To my left, East’s jaw twitched. Because of the mask, I couldn’t see his face, but God, I could feel his contempt. Drew, directly opposite of me, stood stoic. As if he bought into all the seriousness.

We were inducting a new class, none of whom had any idea what they were in for. That their lives would no longer be their own but would be dictated by a preset ledger of fate and destiny. If you were lucky enough to be chosen, you would thrive. If you were unlucky, well, no one ever wanted to talk about what happened to the unlucky.

To our left, Marcus Van Linsted, the current Director Prime, some would say the most powerful man in Britain, closed out the session. “To our newest brothers, lift your masks and know that now you are amongst the Elite. Your lives will never be the same.”

Marcus had said the same words to us some time ago. We’d still all been reeling from Toby’s death, still shell-shocked, unable to function. And we’d been forced to wear those masks and act as if we hadn’t just lost one of our best friends.

We’d been told how powerful we would be, how we would be called upon to serve our brothers. I had brothers in the room, absolutely. East. Drew. Bridge. But those were the only ones I counted. To my far right, in the corner, I could feel the glare of my father. Almost like he could tell the direction of my thoughts.

I twirled my signet ring around my thumb, dying to get the bloody thing off. The moments when I wasn’t in public were the best ones because it was the first thing I took off. Possibly like many women took off a bra. I could always feel the weight of it, digging into me.

The final sacred words were the signal that I was almost free.

When the ceremony was over, I tried to relax, but a scowl leaked as Bram Van Linsted clapped his hand on his father’s back. The Van Linsteds had been in the Elite since the first class over two hundred years ago. Everyone liked to forget that those Dutch fuckers made their fortune on the backs of slaves and then increased it by pillaging a continent that had already lost so much for diamonds. Nope. Everyone likes to pretend they were on the up and up, but I knew the Van Linsteds. After all, I’d spent over a decade hating them.

As always, after the induction ceremony there was a reception, one the new recruits always looked forward to. Top shelf booze and women, carefully selected for them, of course. No one was allowed to bring their current girlfriend if they had one. All these women were escorts, discreet, and knew the game.

They were all compensated for their time and efforts. They’d been selected based on each new member’s desires, predilections, and personal tastes. It was ingenious.

For the very few that had never known such wealth, it could be a heady experience. Every year, the selection committee chose one from an underprivileged background. Almost like their own sick Trading Places experiment. It didn’t usually turn out well. Our year, that token recruit was Bridge. The joke was on the selection committee, though. Bridge was as steady as they came, and he’d made not a single misstep. Now he was richer than half the membership combined.

Just when the recruits were out of their minds with whatever booze and drugs were on hand, they’d be taken away, separated into pairs, and pulled into their bonding ceremony. Then, to their bonded brother, they would make their confessions.

They’d leave their sins on the table in a process that would continue throughout the