by Stella Hart
Davenport cleared his throat. “They work at the School and Lodge in various capacities. Maids, kitchen staff, gardeners, makeup artists for the girls. And…” He hesitated and glanced at my father, who nodded. “This is actually a good segue into the next topic we wanted to discuss.”
My heart thudded. “What is it?”
“The girls who we consider to be the most physically in shape are used as surrogates once they hit their late twenties or early thirties,” he said. “Sometimes members have fertility issues with their wives. In other cases, their wives simply don’t want to be pregnant because they are afraid it will ruin their bodies, or their husbands worry about that. So we’ll use IVF procedures to implant a fertilized egg into the captive woman we’ve chosen for the surrogacy, and they grow and give birth to the baby for the couple. Of course, this isn’t a common thing. Only a few of the women will be used for that every year.”
My mouth hung open slightly. Aside from the shock and disgust of hearing about the forced surrogacies, the supposed logic behind it alone was unbelievable. I’d never really thought about kids or pregnancy that much, given my age, but the attitude that it would ‘ruin’ a woman’s body seemed incredibly juvenile and rooted in the dark ages, even to someone like me who’d admittedly never considered it in great detail.
The attitude that a captive woman’s body was seemingly okay to ‘ruin’ was even worse.
My face hardened. “So the wives of third-level members are all in on it?”
“Oh, no. They’ll know there’s a surrogate that we’ve arranged, but they are blissfully unaware of the truth behind it,” Davenport said. He looked so fucking gleeful. I wanted to smash his face into the granite.
I turned to look at my father. “So that’s how I was really born, then? Mom couldn’t get pregnant so you took a girl and used her as a surrogate?”
He shifted his weight, looking nervous for the first time. “Not exactly. You were a special case, Elias. It wasn’t planned at all.”
I folded my arms. “I’m listening.”
“Again, I apologize for keeping the truth from you for so long. I didn’t like it, believe me. But anyway…” He paused and coughed. “Your biological mother was a woman named Camille Gorham. I first saw her in New Marwick one day back in 1991 when I went to visit Garrett at Roden. Or maybe it was 1992.” He frowned and shook his head. “Anyway, I wanted her the second I laid eyes on her. I looked into her background and quickly figured her parents would never sell her to us. They were good people. A respectable family. So I didn’t even bother asking. I just took her instead. Got the girl I wanted and saved myself a few hundred grand in the process.”
Everyone chuckled at that. Hilarious.
Fucking scum.
“I’ve heard about that case,” I said, once again feigning ignorance. “A lot of people use her name in those dumb old Roden Strangler urban myths.”
He smiled. “Yes. Anyway, I made her my slave. She was a tough one. Lots of fight in her. A lot like your Tatum, actually. But that was exactly what I needed at the time as I was going through a rough patch with your mother, due to our difficulties in conceiving a child.”
“I see.” I gritted my teeth again. That poor woman.
“One day I discovered she was pregnant, with a boy. I suppose I wasn’t being careful enough with contraception. Or I may have been careless on purpose in a sort of subconscious way. After all, I wanted a child and she came from a decent family. Good genes. I knew she’d give me a strong, healthy son. So we kept it.”
“We?” I arched a scornful eyebrow.
“Well, I made her keep it, more specifically,” he said. He chuckled, and then his face darkened again. “I convinced Sylvie it was a blessing. Convinced her to raise you as her own child. I made it seem like Camille was just some stupid young woman I was having an affair with, but eventually she figured out the truth. When you were just three months old, I caught Sylvie trying to run away with you and Camille. They intended to tell everyone, and they were going to keep you from me. My son.”
I felt ice creeping through my veins. “So you killed both women?”
“Kill is such a strong word,” he said. “I prefer ‘disposed of’.”
His words sliced into me like a hot knife through butter. “Right. So Sylvie never actually gave birth to me. Or died during the process, like you told me.”
“I’m sorry, Elias. I had to tell you something when you were younger, to cover the truth.”
I didn’t bother asking why he’d come up with that particular lie. No point; he’d have some bullshit excuse. But he could’ve told me Sylvie died of cancer, or was killed in a car accident… anything other than that she died giving birth to me. For so long, I’d felt an overwhelming sense of guilt over that. I’d never told anyone about it, but it was always there, this creeping sense of culpability. I killed my own mother.
Now I knew she wasn’t even my mother, and yet she died for me anyway, along with my real mother, Camille. They both made that ultimate sacrifice in order to try and save me from my father’s icy grip. But they failed. He got to them.
I wasn’t going to let their deaths be in vain, though. I was now more determined than ever to find some way to take down Crown and Dagger. My father especially.
I put on a stoic face. “Like I said, I’ve actually read about the Camille Gorham cold case before. Did you know some of her friends and family members are still searching for her, all these years later?”
Dad nodded. “I’m aware, yes.”
“It doesn’t bother you at all, that there might be all these people out there wondering about their loved ones?” I tried to keep my voice casual. Nonchalant.
He chuckled. “Let me ask you something, Elias. When you walk through a field, you might inadvertently step on thirty ants. Hundreds, even. Not to mention all the other insects and microorganisms you could be unintentionally destroying. But do you ever think about that when you walk through a field?”
“No.”
“That’s what the majority of the world’s population is to us. We’re the ones with all the power. The money, the influence. We’re the deserving ones. Everyone else…” He flicked a hand in the air. “They’re the ants. It’s not that we don’t care about them. It’s that they don’t even cross our minds at all. You see what I’m saying?”
“Yes. I feel the same way,” I forced myself to say, feeling sicker than ever.
These guys were so fucked up. They genuinely believed that people of the ‘lower’ classes were disposable, existing only to serve them and their needs, no matter how sordid they were.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure why I was even surprised.
The council members went on to reveal more of their ‘secrets’ to me. Most of it was relatively tame stuff. Insider trading deals and so on; all the ways they kept themselves rich under the table.
I also learned just how deep the society’s tentacles reached. Terrifyingly so. They had connections in every law enforcement agency you could imagine, as well as the government.
All in all, there wasn’t a single lawyer or police officer in the entire country who wasn’t in their pockets somehow. Of course, the vast majority of them weren’t actually aware of it, but if any concerns were raised to them, they would take it to their superiors, who were perfectly aware of their paid loyalty to Crown and Dagger.
That meant it was going to be much harder than I initially thought to take them down and bury them. Right now I didn’t even know where the fuck to start. Their creeping tendrils were everywhere. I wasn’t sure how Henry Davenport lived without losing his mind entirely, knowing there was no help for him anywhere. No one who would listen if he ever wanted to tell his story.
When they were done talking, I swallowed the hard lump in my throat and pasted on another fake grin. “So that’s all of it?”
The council members bared their teeth in vicious smiles. “Oh no,” said Davenport. “We saved the best for last.”
And then they
told me the darkest secret of all…
21
Tatum
Yawning, I stepped into my bathroom and stared in the mirror. After a long day of hosting duties, my makeup had begun to streak, and my hair was tangled and messy from the wind. My limbs felt heavy and awkward with exhaustion.
Aside from that, the hostess position was going surprisingly well. It was a lot easier than I thought. All I really had to do was talk to the men and pour the occasional drink. Of course, I had to be gracious and charming as I did so, and I had to wear certain outfits, but it was still a lot simpler than I thought it would be.
I’d worked the last three evenings as well as during the days, but tonight I’d been told I could rest and relax instead. Apparently Tobias would be coming by my room soon to explain more of my upcoming hostess duties to me, but after that I’d have free rein to read, take a warm bath, and sleep.
My ears pricked up at the sound of a knock on my bedroom door. When I didn’t immediately answer, it turned into a series of frantic bangs.
“I’m coming,” I called out, drawing my brows into a frown. I opened the door to see Elias. He was wearing a set of black robes and rubbing the back of his neck. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead.
“Tatum, we need to talk. Now,” he said. I’d never heard him speak so fast, words tumbling out in a frenzy.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“This whole thing isn’t wh—”
He was cut off by another masculine voice. “Elias, what are you doing here?”
We whirled around to see Tobias striding up the hall toward us.
“I’m here to see my slave, obviously,” Elias replied, his tone and demeanor changing instantly.
“Well, you’ll have to wait. I have to take her for a couple of hours to explain some of her new hostess duties to her.”
I noticed one of Elias’s hands was clenched into a fist by his side. His face was reddening too. “I’ve barely seen her these last few days. She’s still my slave, and I want to use her.”
Tobias let out a disdainful sniff. “She has the night off, so you can spend time with her after we’re done with our discussion. I’m sure you can wait a couple of hours.”
Elias pressed his lips into a flat line. “Right,” he finally said. “It can wait.”
“Good.” Tobias looked at me. “Tatum, let’s go for a walk.”
He headed down the hall, and I followed him. I turned my head over my shoulder to see Elias staring at us, an intense expression hardening his features. His eyes were over-bright, feverish, and his posture was stiff.
As I rounded the corner with Tobias, I saw him mouth something at me. I thought it was ‘I love you’ but I realized a moment later that it looked more like: ‘I’ll save you’.
Tobias led me downstairs and through a wide hall before stopping outside a familiar doorway. “After you,” he said, waiting for me to step through.
It was the trophy room I’d discovered that day with Pri. I did as Tobias said and headed inside. He ushered me over to the far side, where a trophy cabinet sat next to the enormous doll collection.
“Not long until you get your own made,” he said stiffly, nodding toward the dolls. He was pretending to be polite, but under that thin veneer of civility was a pit of black animosity. I knew he was pissed that the other men had voted for me to be the hostess for this festival, and he’d been outvoted.
I didn’t quite know how to reply to him, so I stared awkwardly at my feet instead.
“Did anyone ever tell you how this tradition started?” Tobias went on, gesturing toward the dolls again.
“No, sir,” I said quietly.
“About a hundred years ago, the society had a council member named Jack Galbraith. He was very close with his mother. She loved collecting antique dolls. Sadly, she died quite early. As a tribute, Jack brought her collection here so it could be admired and appreciated by many people, which is what his mother always wanted. Her dolls are the ones at the very back,” he said, pointing them out for me. Then he motioned down to an inscribed plaque on the bottom of the cabinet; one I’d never noticed before. In memory of Mary Galbraith.
“That’s a nice story,” I said, surprised that I wasn’t lying to him for once. It really was quite sweet.
“Of course, most of the other members didn’t exactly want a doll collection here for no reason other than that someone’s beloved mother died,” Tobias went on. “So a new tradition was born—the doll-making after the festivals, to honor our hostesses.”
He paused for a moment, then reached in and carefully picked up a doll with flowing red hair and a midnight blue gown. “This was Anna Sarich. I quite liked her. She was with us about ten years ago.” He held the doll out to me. “You can look.”
I gingerly held it in both hands, afraid I’d accidentally drop it. “The hair is beautiful,” I said, admiring the glossy locks. “It almost looks real.”
Tobias smiled. “It is real. You don’t think a society like ours would skimp on the details and use synthetic hair, do you?”
“I suppose not.”
“It’s Anna’s hair. She donated a few locks of it for this very purpose. The face was carved to look just like her, too, and the body…” He trailed off for a second and reached across, running his fingers over the pretty porcelain face before trailing down to the carved décolletage. “It’s made from bone china. Do you know how they make that?”
“With bone ash?”
Tobias smiled. “That’s right.”
My skin prickled. The way he was smiling at me, the gleam in his eyes… something felt all kinds of wrong with this picture.
My stomach lurched as his previous words echoed in my head. Anna’s hair. All the power was immediately drained from my limbs, replaced by unadulterated terror. I clenched my fists and swallowed hard, forcing myself to hold it together.
I had a good idea of what was coming next, but I willed Tobias not to say it yet, just so I could have a few more precious seconds of unknowing. Part of me wanted to turn around and flee from the room, so I’d never have to hear it at all.
He cleared his throat. “This china was made from Anna’s bones,” he said smoothly, taking the doll away from me. That was probably a good thing, because I was about to drop it out of sheer shock. “Aside from the original dolls belonging to Mary Galbraith, all the others are the same. Made from the bone ashes of each hostess.”
My whole body was jelly. Something inside me was crumbling, collapsing, like a building being destroyed by dynamite.
I should’ve known.
Pain and pity bloomed in me as I cast my eyes back over the rest of the doll collection. They were all ghosts, twisted remnants of the women they used to be before their lives were torn away by the awful men of Crown and Dagger.
I was next.
“Why?” was all I could get out.
Tobias chuckled. “Let’s just say the Artemis Festival isn’t exactly what it appears to be on the surface. We spread rumors amongst the women that being chosen for the hostess duty is a great honor and will bestow many privileges upon them, including a chance to leave with just one master. It’s a lie, but it’s a great way to make them behave. And the expression on the chosen women’s faces when they discover what’s really happening—far too late, of course—is one of the funniest things you can possibly imagine. Like your face right now.”
“So what’s really happening?” I asked in a low voice.
“Remember, it’s a hunting festival,” he said patiently. “We pick the girl who’s proved to be the biggest thorn in our side over the last six months, and on the final day of the festival, the third-level members hunt her in the woods. Afterwards, her remains are used to create a mini version of her. A trophy that we can all view at any time, whenever we want to recall the thrill of that particular hunt.”
Sickness swirled in my belly as dizziness overcame me.
This must be what Elias was so frantic to tell me earlier. He must’ve
made it to the third level of the society today (he had the new black robes, after all) and he’d subsequently found out about their darkest tradition.
So that was why he mouthed ‘I’ll save you’ at me in the hallway earlier. It wasn’t like he could’ve said it out loud in front of Tobias, or else he wouldn’t stand a chance at helping me.
That meant he was telling the truth all along. He really did return my twisted feelings. He really did care for me, and he really did want to get me the hell out of here, before the other third-level men could kill me.
I should have believed him the other night. I should have let him help me.
Now it might be too late.
“Why me?” I asked, tilting my head up to face Tobias. If this man was going to kill me, he could at least have the guts to look me in the eyes.
“As I’ve already explained, we pick the girl who’s been the biggest thorn in our side. You stabbed me in the fucking neck, Tatum. What did you think would happen with that kind of behavior?”
“So this has been planned for months,” I said in a hollow voice. “It wasn’t really voted in last week.”
He twisted his lips. “Not exactly. There were other factors which led to me and the other men overwhelmingly choosing you. The biggest one being your pregnancy.”
Time instantly seemed to freeze. My mouth dropped open. “What?”
“The doctor who saw you after your little escape attempt two weeks ago didn’t really diagnose you with a bug,” he said. His voice was like ice. “The blood tests showed that you’re pregnant. According to the doctor, you’re probably around five weeks along, judging by the amount of HCG.”
My insides were cold, contracting. It felt like I’d just been punched right in the gut. I shook my head. “That… that’s impossible.”
“Contraceptive shots aren’t a hundred percent effective. Close, but not quite. Sometimes one just slips through.”
Instinctively, one of my hands went to my belly. The nausea, the tiredness, all the other weird symptoms I’d been getting lately… I thought it was just a bug, or a virus, or stress. I hadn’t even considered that I might be pregnant.
