by Hart, Stella
“Yes.”
“So you actually want me to believe that you went and planted a fucking bug in our room out of sheer concern?” I asked. “You expect me to believe you told absolutely no one about the stuff you overheard?”
“Yes, because it’s the truth.” He leaned forward again, hands clasped in front of him on the desk. “If I were you, though, I’d make damn sure Willow drops this investigation idea of hers. Neither of you should be trying to look into Q. Nothing good can come of it.”
I suppressed a triumphant smile. He obviously didn’t want us sniffing around anymore because he was worried we were already getting too close to the truth. That meant we were probably right about him being the secret society’s true leader.
“When I came in, you said that you’re not Q, right?” I said nonchalantly, kicking my feet up on a nearby ottoman.
He stiffened. “Yes, that’s right.”
“But if you were, you wouldn’t admit it, would you? Not even to me.”
“No. I’m telling you, though, I’m not him.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “I really wish my word was enough for my own son.”
I held my palms up. “Okay, I believe you,” I said, even though I didn’t. Not one bit. “But you obviously know a lot more than me, given your position in the Order. So what can you tell me about Q? I’ve always been curious.”
He coughed to clear his throat. “Absolutely nothing. I have no idea who he is. As far as I know, I’ve never even been in the same room as him.”
Bullshit. “Are you fucking kidding?”
He let out an exasperated sigh. “No. No one knows who he is.”
“But you were in that grotto with him the other week.”
“What? When?”
“During the last Order meeting, when he wanted to address the members with the video link. While he was talking, we could see a few people standing around in the background in black cloaks and robes. Wasn’t that you and the other council members who went to help him?”
He shook his head. “No. We were asked to set up a room for him in the Order Hall to ensure the right things were there for him to use, and then we were instructed to leave as soon as that was done. We were gone before he showed up.”
“Who the hell were those people standing around him, then?”
“That was probably the shadow council.”
I almost burst out laughing at that. “Did you just say the shadow council?” I asked, eyes incredulously wide. “Because that sounds like something out of a fucking fantasy game.”
“I know. That’s what we call them, though.”
“Who are they?”
“Wouldn’t have a clue. Hence the nickname.”
“So there’s two councils in the Order?”
He hesitated for a few seconds. “Well… yes and no. The high council, where I am, is the official one. We organize everything for the society. Run the meetings and parties. Allocate necessary tasks to appropriate members. Carry out Q’s commands.”
“And the other one?”
“The shadow council is an unofficial group of Q’s most trusted allies. No one is really supposed to know about them except the high council, so I’m trusting you not to share this information with anyone.”
“Okay. What do these shadow people do?”
One of his cheeks jumped slightly. “Anything Q needs that he can’t get from the rest of us, or anything he doesn’t want us to be concerned with for whatever reason. This parade body-drop, for instance. The shadow council must’ve helped him organize that.”
“Why would he get them to do it?”
“Because he didn’t want the rest of us to be involved, obviously.”
“Again, why?”
His forehead creased. “Because he only wanted a few people to know about it, I presume. I don’t know, though. All I know is that he trusts the shadow council implicitly to do his dirty work for him. They’re the only ones allowed in the same room as him, and the only ones who can directly contact him.” His frown deepened, and he scratched his nose. “I know I said no one knows his true identity, but if anyone actually does, it’s them.”
An idea flashed in my mind, making my lips twitch with amusement. “Huh…” I said, slowly rubbing my jaw. “That must really piss you off.”
“What?”
“The fact that you and the rest of the high council are given so much responsibility and so much work, but you still aren’t valued or trusted enough to be in Q’s real inner circle. If I were you, that’d bother me for sure.”
Anger flared in his eyes for a split-second. He utterly despised the idea of anyone thinking he wasn’t the most important person on the planet, but as long as he wanted to keep up the act that Q was another man, he couldn’t say anything in his defense.
That made it very easy for me to goad him.
I knew it had to be driving him insane to have to sit here and pretend to be a regular council member, entrusted with nothing compared to the so-called shadow council. He was probably itching to tell me that he was very important after all, because he was actually the big supreme leader, but he couldn’t, because then he’d have to reveal his true identity.
“I’m happy to serve the Order as Q sees fit. Besides, being on the high council is one of the greatest honors a member can earn for his or herself,” he finally said, nostrils flaring. He obviously knew exactly what I was doing.
“Hm. Okay.” I twisted my lips. “How would I go about becoming one of the shadow council members?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because if Q wanted you, he would’ve told you.”
“Fair enough.” I tilted my head to the side. “Why are you suddenly being so honest and telling me all this stuff, anyway? You’ve been acting shady for weeks, so you’ll have to forgive me for finding the sudden change suspicious.”
“I’m hoping to make you see reason. As I said before, I don’t want you or Willow looking into the Order and getting yourselves into trouble.”
“If we think something bad is going on, we should be allowed to ask questions.”
“No.” He narrowed his eyes. “Once you pledge yourself to the society, that’s it. You don’t question anything. You accept your place, stay quiet and do whatever is asked of you. It’s all for the greater good.”
“Yeah, so we’ve been told.” I blew out a short, irate breath.
Dad’s fingers curled up tightly, knuckles going white. “Logan, you have somewhat of an advantage over other Order members in that you have a father on the high council. But even then, there’s only so much I can do to protect you and Willow. If you take this too far and make Q angry enough, he won’t hesitate to deal with you.”
My chest tightened. “Is that a threat?”
“I’m just telling you what I know.”
“Well, it sounded like a veiled threat,” I replied, hands squeezing into fists. “Wait, no, scratch that. It sounded like a blatant threat.”
“It wasn’t. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“And I don’t want you or any of your Order minions to threaten my fiancée,” I said, jaw clenching hard.
“You really aren’t going to drop this?”
“Not unless I can meet with Q and have him tell me right to my face that Willow isn’t in danger. But obviously that’s not going to happen.”
A muscle tightened in his left cheek. “Well, you could always request a meeting, but I highly doubt he’ll agree to it.”
“What?”
“Any Order member can request a meeting with Q.”
“How?”
“By approaching a council member like me and asking, of course. We have a number to call which goes straight to a voicemail box, and we leave a message with the request. Q gets back to us eventually, usually with a no. If he says yes, a time and location for the meeting is provided.”
“Uh… why didn’t I know about this before now?”
He le
aned back, a smug gleam in his eyes. “You never asked. Besides, it’s pointless. I haven’t seen Q accept a meeting with anyone in over two decades.”
I decided to call his bluff.
“I’ll take my chances,” I said. “Make the call. See if he’ll meet with me.”
He gave me a hard look. “Are you sure you want me to do that?”
“Yup.”
“Fine. Don’t expect any miracles, though.” He smiled thinly.
I smiled back at him. “We’ll see.”
“I probably won’t hear back from him for a while.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
“Right. Well, I’ll let you know when he inevitably refuses to meet with you,” he said, flapping a dismissive hand in my direction.
“Like I said, we’ll see.”
I stood and left the study. When I arrived back at my suite, Mal handed me an envelope with Willow’s name on it. “This arrived a few minutes ago, sir.”
With a frown, I took it and went inside. Willow had just woken up. She was stretching her arms and yawning loudly.
“Apparently this is for you,” I said, holding out the envelope.
Her eyes widened. “What is it?”
“No idea. It better not be another Order threat, though,” I said grimly.
She sat with her legs crossed and deftly slit the top of the envelope open with one long fingernail. Her brows puckered as she read the letter within, and then a faint smile curled up her lips. “Oh, it’s from Myla. I sent her a note asking if she’d do the therapy thing with me a few days ago. She finally got back to me.”
My mouth felt dry all of a sudden, and the shiver of guilt from earlier rose up between my shoulder blades. “Has she agreed to do it?”
“Yes. I honestly thought she’d say no, because she seems so happy being a domme here, but she said she’d love to help,” she said, holding the letter up for me to see. “Apparently she misses certain aspects of her old job, and she’s keen to see if she’s still got it.”
“How will it work?”
“She’ll come up here to see me for bi-weekly sessions. She’s booked solid with Wonderland clients for the next week and a half, but she said we can start as soon as she’s free—not next Wednesday morning, but the one after. So ten days from now. Is that okay with you?”
“That’s fine.”
“Apparently there are certain memory regression techniques we can try. We just have to be slow and careful. Otherwise there can be issues.”
“Like what?”
“False memory syndrome. We don’t want that, obviously. We want to know what really happened that night. Why I….” She trailed off, regret and sorrow etching her features as she looked down at the duvet.
I sat down and squeezed her arm, still feeling the cold tug of guilt in my guts from the constant battle in my mind between my feelings for her and my loyalty to my sister. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I muttered.
“I hope so.” She looked up at me. “How did things go with your dad?”
“It was… interesting.”
I filled her in on the conversation I’d had with my father, glad for the change of subject.
“So you think he’s still lying, even after he admitted to all that stuff?” Willow asked.
“I think he knows we’re starting to figure shit out, so he’s trying to fool us by being honest about certain things while continuing to lie about others.”
“To throw us off.”
“Exactly. He wants us to trust him and stop questioning everything.”
She rolled her eyes. “He’s so obviously Q, right?”
“I guess we’ll find out soon.”
She hesitantly bit her bottom lip. “If he agrees to a meeting with you—and that’s a big if—he’ll be completely covered up, right?”
“Presumably. But don’t worry. I have a plan.”
Willow smiled faintly, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You always do.”
She got up to take a shower and get ready for the day, and I sat back and played with my phone while I waited. About half an hour later, there was a knock at the door.
I crossed the room and opened it to see my father standing in the hall. “Can I come in?” he asked.
“Sure.” I stepped aside to let him enter.
“So,” he said, glancing around the suite before turning his attention back to me. “I heard back from Q already.”
“That was quick.” Probably because you’re the same person, I silently added.
“He’s agreed to meet with you.”
I raised my brows. “I thought you said there was no way that would happen.”
“Believe me, I’m as surprised as you are,” he said stiffly. “Anyway, he’ll be available to meet with you in four days.”
“Where?”
“You’ll need to be in the Order Hall foyer at half past three. Someone will come along to direct you to a meeting room.”
“Great.” I cocked my head to one side. “You can come with me, right?”
His eyes flickered with irritation. “No. You have to go alone.”
“I didn’t mean the actual meeting. Just the foyer. You can hang out with me while I wait so I’m not just standing around by myself,” I said.
“I have plans at that time, so I won’t be available,” he said frostily.
How convenient.
“All right. Thanks for setting it up for me.”
My father grunted a vague response and headed for the door. Before he stepped out, he turned to look at me over his shoulder, eyes flashing.
“Good luck, son,” he said stonily. “I really hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”
15
Logan
Q’s meeting place was poorly illuminated, with just a handful of flaming torches and candles lighting the space. I recognized the room anyway. I’d passed by it several times over the last few years, because it was on the way to the Order’s main ceremonial chamber.
It was enormous with a high rock ceiling dotted with spiky stalactites, and it contained multiple statues, fountains, and urns, along with tinkling water features. Tall plants were scattered around the edges of the rocky space, making it look like a giant rainforest cave. From memory, I knew fairy lights were usually hung around the place, but today they’d been switched off in favor of the torches and candles, presumably to set me on edge with all the darkness and shadows.
Too bad that shit didn’t work on me. I was amped and ready for anything.
A short man wearing a dark robe and a black and red mask had brought me into the room after meeting me in the Order Hall foyer ten minutes ago, and he was currently waving a black wand-like device over my clothes to check for any hidden cameras or recording devices.
“Weird place for a meeting, huh?” I said, looking over the guy’s shoulder as the flickering flames made shadows dance on the walls.
He raised his masked head for a few seconds. “It’s Q’s favorite room,” he said stiffly.
“You know him pretty well, huh?”
“Nice try, buddy,” he muttered. He slipped the bug-checker back in his robe pocket and took a step back. “You’re good to go. Stand by the table, please. I’ll let them know you’re here.”
He jerked a gloved thumb toward a narrow mahogany table on our right. Two chairs inlaid with gold sat on either side of it.
I went and stood at the closest end of the table as the man muttered into some sort of radio. A moment later, there was a heavy grinding sound from the other side of the room. It was too dark to see what was happening at first, but when a faint shaft of light slipped through, I realized there was another door on that side.
Another masked man in long dark robes stepped through. Q was right behind him, followed by two more masked men. I watched with fascination, half-expecting a rhythmic drumbeat and braying trumpet to start up as they crossed the room.
Q looked like a fucking beast. He towered over his companions, standing at least six foo
t four. He was dressed in thick black floor-skimming robes like the others, but he didn’t have his cloak pulled up over his head. Instead, he wore an elaborate red, black and gold carnival mask with twisted features and enormous curling horns sticking out from the top.
As he drew closer, I realized he wasn’t actually that tall after all. The soaring horns made him seem much larger than everyone else, but in reality, he was an average-sized man. Somewhere around five-ten, maybe five-eleven.
My father was exactly five-eleven.
The masked guards hung back as Q stepped up to the table. He clasped his gloved hands in front of his torso and dipped his head. “Thank you for your patience, Logan. It’s wonderful to finally meet Chuck’s son in person.”
His voice was unnaturally deep and completely unrecognizable. The huge mask must’ve had some sort of distortion device built into it near the mouth area.
“It’s an honor to meet you, sir,” I replied, lowering my head in deference. “I’m glad you—” I stopped abruptly and coughed like mad for several seconds. “Sorry,” I eventually muttered in a raspy voice. “My throat is really itchy.”
Q lifted a hand. “Not your fault. It’s the air in these rooms,” he said, briefly tilting his head to glance upward. “It gets very dry and stale this far underground. Not to mention all the dust from the tunnels outside. It’s the one thing I don’t like about this place.”
I coughed again. “That makes sense.”
He waved a hand at one of his masked guards. “Go and get us some water from the bar in the party room,” he said. “Make sure there are straws.” He turned his attention back to me. “It isn’t easy to drink with this thing on,” he explained, gesturing to his mask.
“I understand.”
He nodded and held out a hand. “Please, take a seat.”
I did as he said, and he lowered himself into the chair opposite me.
“So, Logan,” he began in a grave tone, setting his hands on the table. “Your father has informed me that you have some serious concerns about recent events.”
“Yes,” I replied, steeling my jaw. “Mostly in regard to the corpse that was dropped on the presidential parade five days ago.”
