“I have something for you.”
He stretches out my hand, reaches into his pocket and I watch in shocked silence as he forces a ring onto my finger.
“What—”
It’s too tight, but he doesn’t stop until he gets it past the knuckle.
“There.” He releases me.
I pull my hand back and look at it. At the large teardrop-shaped dark stone on my finger. At the skeleton-like fingers that seem to hold the huge rock in place. Like bones. I glance at him, then instantly try to pry it off.
“It’s no use,” he says, watching me.
I still try. I don’t want this. I don’t want any of it. And when he moves to stand, I swear I see that smile again. A dead man’s smile.
I feel the blood drain from my head, my vision fading as the room begins to spin.
“You belong to me now, Ivy Moreno, for better or for worse. Until death do us part.”
5
Ivy
I’m exhausted when I wake up. My head hurts as I look at the sliver of light coming in from the window.
Panicked, I check the time. I don’t want to miss Evangeline before she goes to school. It’s half-past seven. Today is Friday, which means she catches the school bus at eight.
I throw off the covers and hurry out of bed, but then stop. I look down at my hand and the foreign object there.
And I remember.
It wasn’t a dream. Did I really think it was?
I sink onto the bed, my heart racing, my eyes locked on that ring. A huge teardrop-shaped rock. A salt and pepper diamond, I think. And clutching the stone are bony fingers. I peer closer. It's so detailed, such intricate work. I try to pull it off, turning my palm when I do, but it’s impossible.
Something’s written on the band. I’m not sure it’s English: Aeternum.
Santiago De La Rosa had been in my room last night.
He’d come to give me his ring.
No, not give. He’d come to force it on my finger.
I remember how he’d looked. How he’d worn those robes and that hood over his face. He’d scared me half to death.
But maybe that was the point.
A glance at the clock tells me I need to hurry. I get up and go into the bathroom.
Between my visitor last night, thoughts of my father, and Abel’s plans for me, my mind is racing. Dad’s had health issues for a long time. He doesn’t take care of himself like he should and overindulges in things he shouldn’t. I remember the doctor telling him more than once that he needed to watch his diet as he prescribed pill after pill to manage his cholesterol and high blood pressure. And although I haven’t seen him since being away at school, he told me he’d been more active and more careful with his diet. As careful as he could be while still enjoying life, he’d said. I’d laughed, but I’m worried.
He’s in his fifties. Too young to die. I haven’t had enough time with him. And Evangeline has only had thirteen years.
I hope it’s not as bad as Abel made it out to be and I comfort myself with the knowledge that when I talk to the doctors I’ll know more.
I switch on the water to take a shower and strip off my pajamas and underthings. I glimpse my reflection in the mirror when I turn to grab a bottle of shampoo and see the bruise around my neck. Abel’s fingerprints. At least it’s not too dark, and I can cover it up. But maybe I shouldn’t.
The one on my cheekbone is worse. It’s swollen and blue.
Looking at my stomach and thighs, I find bruises in various stages there too. They don’t hurt. I’m used to them and try to make a joke of it when I knock into things.
When I told Abel it’s worse with stress, I wasn’t kidding. I’m not sure how I’ll actually get through a wedding to a stranger.
But I push that thought out of my mind and step into the shower. I hurry to shampoo and condition my mass of thick dark hair and use the last of the body wash. After my shower, I dress in a pair of jeans, choosing something generic because it’ll piss off Mom and Abel. Mom because she likes to keep up appearances, Abel because he told me to wear a dress. I twist my hair up into a clip and make sure some hangs down over my right eye, then step out into the hallway and go to my sister’s room. I smile genuinely for the first time when I knock on her door and hear her squeal as she throws it open.
“Ivy!” She practically jumps into my arms, and I hug her hard, my smile widening.
“Eva! I missed you so much.” I didn’t even realize how much until just now.
“Me too. God. Me too.”
I hear her sniffle, and when we draw apart, I see she’s been crying. The delicate skin around her eyes is puffy.
“I wanted to call you, but they wouldn’t let me. Mom took my phone,” she starts, that smile morphing into a frown as tears spring from her eyes. “I wanted to tell you about Dad.”
“Shh.” I pull her in for another hug. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re not to blame. I’m here now.” I want to reassure her somehow, but I don’t know what my presence here will do for her.
We separate again, and I tuck a strand of hair back into a hairpin. The nuns won’t excuse a hair out of place, even considering the situation.
“Are you okay?” I ask, looking her over. Given how Abel’s been with me, I want to be sure he hasn’t raised a hand to her.
“I’m scared for Dad. Mom and Abel won’t tell me anything. I can go see him after school today, though.”
“Abel’s taking me to see him this morning, and I’ll talk to the doctors. I’ll find out what’s going on and tell you. I promise.”
She nods, wipes her tears. “Ivy?” she asks hesitantly
“Yes?”
“Is it true? You’ll have to marry that man?”
I don’t know how to answer her.
“I’ve heard rumors, Ivy. He’s deformed. A monster.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Everyone knows about the explosion. Everyone knows he’s hardly been seen in public since.”
I know that much too.
“You can’t do it. You have to find some way to get out of it.”
“It’s not as simple—”
“Evangeline!”
I exhale in relief at my mother’s interruption because I’ve heard the same rumors. I know about the explosion where so many sons of The Society were lost. Where Santiago’s own father and brother perished.
And although Santiago did survive, he didn’t quite walk away uninjured. There are rumors about what happened to him and what he did to cover up his scars. Talk of how hard he’s become, how bitter.
I remember my brief first encounter with him took place in my dad’s study. I’d given him the gift dad had bought him, and as I’d dumped the box on his lap, I'd told him what I’d thought of him. I’d been just mad enough about everything to blurt out the truth, that I didn’t like the school The Society made me go to because I knew it was him or his family who’d arranged for it as a thank-you gift to my father for tutoring Santiago. And I hadn’t stopped there. I told him I didn’t like him, either.
He’d just sort of smiled. I guess I remember because of my dad’s reaction. He’d gotten angry with me. Told me I was being disrespectful. But I’d gotten the feeling Santiago had found it almost funny.
The truth was, I’d been jealous of him even though I didn’t even know him. I’d been jealous because he’d had my father’s affection.
Would I truly be forced to marry this stranger now? This deformed monster they only whisper about?
I shake my head, clearing the thought. One thing at a time. First, I need to see my father with my own eyes. I think about how Dad was supposed to go to that meeting, too. He’d gotten sick at the last minute, though.
“Evangeline, goddammit! Get down here!”
My sister stiffens at the sound of our mother’s voice.
“You’re going to miss your bus, and I can’t drive you to school today.”
Eva turns to me. “I’m sure she has a very important ha
ir or nail appointment. Or maybe she’s having her face lifted,” she whispers. “Again.”
We giggle, but it’s strained.
“Evangeline!”
“I’d better go.” She moves toward the door, then doubles back, opens a drawer in her desk, and shoves an extra-large Snickers bar into her backpack. “Breakfast will make me fat, according to Mom.”
“You don’t get breakfast?” Evangeline is like a twig already.
She shrugs her shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m more worried about Dad and you than breakfast.” She hugs me again. “I love you, sis. I’m glad you’re here even though I know you don’t want to be. I’m glad to have you close again.”
For how long, though?
I follow her out the door and watch her fly down the stairs. Our mother stands at the front door with her arms folded disapprovingly. They don’t say goodbye as my sister rushes out the door just as the bus turns onto our street.
My mother closes the front door, and Abel walks out of my father’s study, holding his phone to his ear. Has he taken over Dad’s office already? He meets my gaze and checks his watch, then disconnects the call.
“I told you to wear a dress,” he says as I descend to the first floor.
“I didn’t feel like it,” I tell him and turn toward the kitchen to get myself a cup of coffee.
“You’ll learn.”
I have my back to him so I can’t see his face, but something too self-assured in his tone gives me pause. But then my mother walks into the kitchen, and I turn my attention to her.
“Are you feeding Eva?”
“Of course I’m feeding her. But I’m also careful of her weight. Her metabolism isn’t like mine, you know.”
I look her over, raise my eyebrows. “I thought that was Dr. Abrams.” Dr. Abrams is her plastic surgeon.
A few years ago, I overheard an argument between my parents that I almost remember word for word. Their marriage isn’t one built on a foundation of love. For as far back as I can remember, my mother and father never really liked each other very much and have been pretty vocal about it behind closed doors. They only share one commonality as far as I can tell. They revere The Society and will do anything to remain in its good graces.
That night I understood why they stayed together. I learned that my mother had been a sort of present for my father. When The Society had realized he had a gift for numbers—one neither I nor any of my siblings inherited—my father had become valuable. And so, he’d gotten a prize. My mother.
Although she’s no prize according to me and, I bet, according to my father. She’s beautiful. And her genes carried on with Hazel and Evangeline. They mostly skipped me apart from the color of my eyes.
Beauty isn’t everything, though. I wonder if there was a time when my father was blinded by hers. If there was a time he loved her. I doubt it. She’s not the woman he had a photo of inside his wallet.
Although not a founding family, my mother's family is above my father’s in The Society’s hierarchy, so on a certain level, she had the upper hand in their marriage. And in a way, I think she hated my father for what happened to her—for having to marry beneath her station.
My mother opens her mouth, but Abel interrupts her. “Stop your bickering. Ivy, get your coffee, and let’s go. We’re late.”
“Visiting hours don’t start until ten.”
“We have another appointment first.”
I turn to him, suddenly chilled. “What appointment?”
“I’ll tell you when we get there. Let’s go.”
I open a cabinet and grab a to-go cup. Filling it with coffee, I add a generous serving of cream even though I usually take it black. This is just to irritate my mother. I’m sure she doesn’t want me getting fat before the big day. I twist the lid on, grab my coat, and follow Abel out into the chilly but sunny morning.
I climb into the passenger seat of the Rolls, and he starts the engine.
“Is there any change with Dad?”
“Not that I’ve heard,” he says as we turn onto the road and head in the opposite direction of the hospital.
“What is this appointment you’re taking me to?”
“We need to take care of a few things before the wedding.”
“Speaking of, when is the big day?”
His phone rings, and he answers it rather than answering me. He’s on the call for the next twenty minutes and only disconnects when we get to a neighborhood I’m not familiar with, one where the houses are about twice as big as ours and a guard asks your business before he opens the gate.
“Where are we?” I ask him anxiously, my stomach growing tense when we pull up in front of a large mansion where another Rolls is parked on the driveway.
We’re here on Society business. I know it.
Abel parks the car behind the matching one and kills the engine.
“We’re here at your fiancé’s request.”
“What?”
“Well, request isn’t quite how I’d put it honestly. De La Rosa doesn’t make requests. Even now, with his fucked-up face.”
That last part he mutters, but I can hear the hate in his words. He’s still jealous of Santiago De La Rosa? Even after what happened to him, to his family? I knew he was jealous before back when Dad couldn’t say enough about the child prodigy. Dad had been mentoring Santiago for years at The Society's request and teaching him what he knew. At one point, he’d mentioned how Santiago had surpassed him in knowledge, and he went on and on about Santiago’s mind, how it was like a computer, how clever he was, and so on and so forth. In a way, I get how Abel felt. I felt it too. But Abel’s jealousy is accompanied by something else. Hate.
“Have you seen him? Since the explosion,” I can’t help but ask. I want to know if it’s true. If the reason he’s become a recluse is his face.
He turns to look at me fully. “Would you, Ivy Moreno,” he starts, taking my jaw in his hand and turning it, pushing the hair that hides my eye away before continuing. “With your own deformity, judge another on his outward appearance? That’s a bit hypocritical, isn’t it?”
“I wasn’t judging...I just—”
“Sometimes, Ivy, I don’t know what kind of person you are. The nuns would be so disappointed in you. I know dad was.” He jerks his hand away roughly.
“That wasn’t what I meant,” I say quietly. His comment about my father cut, just as I’m sure he wanted it to.
“It doesn’t matter.”
He exhales, presses his lips together, and turns to look out at the house. He shakes his head like he wants to be sure I know exactly how disappointed he is, too. I don’t care what he thinks, though. And the only hypocrite here is him.
I keep my thoughts to myself, though.
“I have a question for you.” He turns to me again.
“What?”
“Do you want to see Father?”
The question takes me by surprise. “Of course I do. You said you’d take me.”
“Then I need you to do as you’re told now.”
“Do as I’m told?” I feel my eyebrows creep up into my hairline.
“Exactly. Do as you’re told. It’ll be a good exercise for you.”
The front door opens, drawing our attention to two men stepping outside. They remain standing in front of the open door, and it all feels wrong.
“What is this, Abel?”
“It’s me looking out for our family. I will take you to see Father after we take care of this. If I feel you’ve behaved well enough.”
I shift my gaze to the men again, then back to Abel, the coffee I drank turning bitter in my stomach.
But the hammer hasn’t fallen yet.
“He’s requested a purity test.”
My mouth falls open, and I stare at him in disbelief. “What?”
“And I won’t take a chance De La Rosa will humiliate our family so I’ve agreed.”
I feel the blood drain from my face.
“It’ll take a moment. No big deal.”
“No big deal?”
“It’s all very standard within The Society, especially the higher echelon. Your mother submitted to it, too.”
“I don’t care about The Society. I don’t even care if my mother submitted. I’m not doing it!”
“You’ll do it, or you won’t see Dad.”
“What? You can’t do that.”
“I can do anything I want. I’m going to greet those gentlemen. You have one minute to decide. If you agree to submit for the good of our family, then I’ll see you at the house. If not, then you’ll remain here, and once I’ve taken care of what I need to take care of, I’ll be back to take you home, where you’ll remain locked in your room until the wedding ceremony.”
“I want to see Dad. You promised.”
“I never promised. I simply told you that you were starting to be reasonable. Now I’m not so sure. If Evangeline weren’t so young—”
“Evangeline?”
“She is the more desirable out of the two of you but she is thirteen. If you force my hand, though, well, I’ll do what I need to do.”
Evangeline? He’d make her submit to something like this?
I give a shake of my head. He can’t do that. “They won’t let you do that. The Society won’t allow something like that.” No matter what I think of them, they’re not that evil. I know that.
“I’m head of household.”
“You go by the law of The Society, and they will never allow it, and you know it. Evangeline is thirteen,” I say, shoulders squared.
His eyes narrow, and I know he knows what I’m saying is true. And I’m a little relieved.
“But you’re not,” he says, voice full of spite. “This is as much to protect our family as to satisfy your husband-to-be. I could drag you in kicking and screaming if I wanted to, but I’m leaving it up to you walk in. Giving you the chance to do this with some dignity.”
Dignity. There will be no dignity in what’s to come.
He opens the car door. “Decide if you will submit.” He steps out.
I remain in the car watching as he walks to the entrance and shakes hands with the two older men. I notice one of the men has a heavy ring on his finger. They’re otherwise indistinguishable from each other.
Requiem of the Soul: A Sovereign Sons Novel Page 4
