by Stone, Piper
He basked in the glory of his parishioners, all in quiet reverence for the special event about to take place. For this day was considered holy, an honor to the family ready to partake in the love and sacrament of the sect. A beautiful day, although he’d grown impatient with the parents of the special child, his time just as precious as those who were a part of the Sacred Sect.
Everything was falling into place, his prayers and those of so many other men of God finally answered. Once this event was over, there would only be the need for protection.
And God’s divine will, including retaliation as necessary.
Punishment would be swift for anyone attempting to thwart God’s master plan. He sneered at his thoughts. Altering the balance of power would mean more money for the sect, more control.
After glancing at his watch for the fourth time, his anger increased, the rage tormenting him. Today was not to be ruined. How dare they challenge the rules. As he fumed he curled his hand into a fist, his heart pounding. There would need to be penance for their insolence.
This was an opportunity for power beyond imagination. Blood and loyalty were requirements.
The thudding sounds of the old wooden doors engaging meant the Michaelsons had finally arrived. He took a deep breath before tipping his head as the single burst of sunlight flowed through the vivid stained-glass windows, an angel beckoning to all those who would pay attention. As usual, he was in awe of her beauty and magnificence.
The whimpering sound of the beautiful child caught the attention of well-wishers, family, and friends, many of them having already gone through this glorious experience. He knew every one of them.
Lust.
Greed.
Malice.
Murder.
None of them were free from sin, but they would all be saved by the grace of the Lord.
And their commitment to the sect.
Strict regulations had been established decades before, sacrifices required no matter the consequences. The blood oath was permanent. Betrayal met with death.
In exchange, the members were wealthy and powerful, the most influential people in the United States. Father McGivney was proud of his work, carving a way through the pool of darkness every man and woman had created. In his mind, he was a hero. He’d fulfilled his contract with God and would be revered in heaven.
As the Michaelsons came forward, Father McGivney moved to the ancient chest, rubbing his hands over the intricate design. There was no knowledge of where the massive piece had originated, but it was said to have arrived during the dawn of our forefathers. He inhaled the scent of wood before opening the lid.
Inside was a single box, the small padlock firmly in place, the great seal intact. He pressed his hand over the top, drinking in the warmth and essence, his anger stilled. As the little cries of the small child echoed in the gothic chamber, he lifted the box to the very heavens.
When he turned, he was pleased the Michaelsons were already in place, preparing their baby girl for her christening.
Everyone lowered their head in reverence as he approached. They knew not to upset him in any manner. “I’m pleased. Have you selected a name?”
“We have, Father,” Carter Michaelson said with pride. “Stephanie Christine Michaelson.”
“A beautiful name for a treasured little girl. It is time.” As he performed the christening, there wasn’t a dry eye in the church. Smiling, he pulled out her little hand, nodding to both her mother and father as the little girl cooed. The sacred sabre had been in existence for centuries, the jewel crested handle a true work of art. He held the implement into the air, the light from the stained glass windows shining down upon the steel blade.
“In the name of the Father and our Sacred Sect, this child shall be protected from the evils of this world. No man shall bring harm upon her or they will face the wrath of our Gods.” As he pricked the finger of the small child, every member of the congregation seemed to be holding their breath. He swiped his finger through the beads of blood, placing the tip on the parchment seal, satisfied that this would be the perfect coupling, the very one that would bring the ultimate in power.
When the ritual was complete, he handed off the child to the godfather. “Let us pray for forgiveness and guidance for Stephanie Christine as she goes through the first twenty-three years of her life. May she find solace in the sinners, in the darkness that will surround her. And may God have chosen wisely.”
“Amen.”
There were no instructions needed, Carter holding out his hands as he lowered his head. Father McGivney placed the box on his palms, his hand on top. There wasn’t a single sound in the church.
“I will care for this Box with my life, protected in the vault until Christine turns twenty-four. On that day, only I am allowed to break the seal. Do you understand?”
“We do, Father,” Carter said as he grasped the box.
“On her birthday, you will have a celebration, a true feast honoring our Lord and your commitment to the Sacred Sect.” Father McGivney lifted his head. “Praise be our power and strength, the will of our people.”
As the father walked away, allowing the family to share in their joy, he knew in his heart this one would make a difference.
The contents of the Box would provide atonement.
And salvation.
* * *
Stephanie
Two weeks prior to the wedding
Terror.
That was the emotion running through me and I wasn’t entirely certain why. I’d been to other parties of girls I’d grown up with and every birthday girl had been very happy, ecstatic in fact. The Box had never failed to provide joyous surprise, gifts that unleased imagination as well as provided additional wealth to their families. My imagination was getting the better of me.
Yet my stomach churned at the thought, my instinct and fear meshing together.
I was a member of a prominent family, protected by a sacred veil, only one I considered evil in creation. But my family was only one of many that followed the Sacred Sect, my father one of just five leaders on a holier than thou Council. Outwardly members could claim any religion. The truth? The sect demanded absolute obedience to its teachings, devotion without question.
Those who didn’t abide by the blood oath simply disappeared.
Or worse.
Loyalty and secrecy were like rules written in blood, accepted without question.
I would never forget the day my father told me that one of the patriarchs of a very prominent Hamptons family had been murdered, his hands and feet removed, his body dumped in a lake. My father had told me the heinous act had been a warning. When I’d asked why, he’d sat me down, reminding me that disobeying the rules as set forth by the original Council would not be tolerated. For any doing so, the punishment would be harsh.
I’d only had the courage years later to find the news article on the murder, the reporter describing the gruesome scene in exactly the same manner my father had. Some had said it was an act of revenge, the man getting mixed up with the mafia.
My father had said his death was the result of his daughter refusing to honor the terms of the Box. I’d had nightmares ever since.
I knew far too many things about our family, as well as the others, every detail enshrouded in darkness.
And evil.
I knew the sect had money, funds pooled together to keep various security personal protecting the precious few. I often wondered what illegal activities every patriarch was involved in to keep the dozens of families bathed in luxury. I’d also realized early in my life that there were many outside of our protected community who would have no issue exposing all the dirty little secrets of the sect.
I was beginning to think I was one of them.
“What do you mean you hate your birthday?”
I continued walking, trying my best to avoid my bestie’s question. “It’s complicated.” Frannie had lived her entire life a completely normal girl with a regular family, both parent
s hardworking and loving in every manner. She’d experienced typical holidays, including every single birthday, and still had the belief she’d find her knight in shining armor.
A handsome and suave man who would sweep her off her feet.
I had an entirely different fairytale in my mind, more like Nightmare on Elm Street.
“How can a birthday party be complicated? You’re turning twenty-four, for God’s sake, not fifty.”
I rolled my eyes as she attempted to keep up with my long strides. My birthday was in two days. Two. Freaking. Days. To say I was petrified was an understatement. My mother had instructed that I purchase a fancy dress, something I absolutely loathed. Jeans were more my style. And cowboy boots.
I’d enjoyed being a rough and tumble girl when possible, even though my job predicated a posh exterior five days a week. I was a great pretender, but stomaching the upcoming event was going to take everything I had.
My mother had already sent out gilded invitations, hired her favorite caterer, and made certain that some kick-ass band was going to provide entertainment for the night. To my parents, this particular party was akin to winning the lottery.
They would certainly partake in the secretive contents.
“There are certain requirements in my family, presents that are given when the girls turn a certain age.”
“Oh,” Frannie exclaimed. “Like a dowry or something. I think that’s sweet.”
Dear God, I hoped not. “Not exactly.”
“I know you don’t like surprises, but what if your mother and father bought you a car or something? They obviously have the money given they live in some huge house in the Hamptons. Imagine cruising around town in a sizzling red convertible.”
“Yes, they have the money but we’re not big on extravagant gifts.” If only I had to worry about my parents purchasing a new car that I couldn’t stand.
“Then I’m confused. Granted, you’ve told me very little about your parents or your family life, but they love you. Right? They’re throwing a huge party in your honor. They paid for your education. Right?”
Blood money. That’s the only way I could think about what they’d given me.
I hugged the dress bag tightly against my chest as I headed back to my truck, fumbling to pull the key from my back pocket. “They’re required to throw the party.”
“Required. By whom?”
“Just an old tradition.”
“Ah. Okay. I know you don’t like anything stuffy, so I get it. Am I invited? I am your best girlfriend.” Frannie grinned as she climbed into the passenger seat, tossing the items she’d purchased in the back.
“You’re my only girlfriend,” I countered, shaking my head.
“Then...”
It was frowned upon to invite anyone from the outside, at least to the celebration birthday parties. I’d had many of my friends over when I was younger, but this was special.
This was...
I bit my lip as I turned over the engine, a trickle of raw fear slithering down my spine. I loathed the rules imposed on members of the sect. I’d been in trouble more than once for not following even basic protocol. “You know what? Absolutely. You’re going to be my date.”
“Date? I didn’t know you were that hard up, girlfriend. I have at least two guys who would love to go out with you. I think the reason you’re in such a funk is that you need to get laid.” Frannie snorted, flipping her hair in an exaggerated manner.
“Uh-huh. I’d eat them for breakfast,” I said, laughing, dating anyone not on my calendar of events. I had a plan for my life and nothing was going to take me away from my goals. Having a man in any capacity would only add to the complications. “Let’s go grab a drink. I’m buying.”
“There’s the big spender I know and love.”
I’d avoided even thinking about the fact I was turning twenty-four for as long as possible, but I couldn’t dodge the inevitable. I’d been reminded of the event at least six times during the last three months. I knew my father was power hungry, his desire to rule the world having turned him into a man to be feared by everyone.
Including his only daughter.
I’d fought hard to break the cycle, living in Brooklyn, far removed from the glitz and glamour of the Hamptons. My apartment was small but comfortable, the Dodge Ram older but something I’d paid for all by myself. I had a job I adored, paralegal for one of the top firms in the city, able to save money for law school. Now, the gamble.
What was inside the Box?
The damn wooden piece had remained with the most revered member of the community, the grand priest himself, completely sealed and off limits.
Until now.
When I was a little girl, I dreamt that under the bright pink tissue paper would be riches beyond my wildest belief, even diamonds and rubies. My fairytale had allowed me to create my own special imaginary knight, a man of honor and passion who would sweep me off my feet and take me to a magical kingdom. A true hero in the world full of assholes.
Then I’d grown up, realizing that my life was enshrouded in secrets and lies.
Carter Michaelson, my illustrious father, was considered to be a vile and heartless businessman, his tactics including brutality. At some point he’d been labeled by the media as one of the mafia Dons of the east coast, although it was a title he’d laughed at many times, especially given the true Italian mafia that held court in several eastern states.
However, the truth was that he was even more powerful.
And dangerous.
There was no denying he ruled like a dictator, the few men he’d trusted absolutely considered soldiers and protectors of the family and our community. His appointment on the Council had come before I was born. I’d heard the hushed conversations he’d had with his employees, had learned about people mysteriously disappearing. I was also no fool. My father hadn’t achieved the kind of success he enjoyed without breaking a few balls.
Or worse.
But there was no doubt everything he touched seemed to turn to gold, much like every member of our community. I was taught at an early age that our family’s success had everything to do with our acceptance into the sect. The Box was the key. The Box meant life and wealth, power and longevity. I’d often wondered whether we’d be required to drink blood at some point.
I exhaled, my hands clammy. There was no way of knowing what was in store for my life. My. Life.
That had been controlled since the day I was born.
One way or the other, I was going to take back the reins. I just had to get through one horrible day.
* * *
“What an incredible house,” Frannie whispered, suddenly peering down at her dress.
I caught her action as I parked the truck, cognizant of the number of people who’d been invited. Nausea rolled through my stomach, churning as I took several deep breaths.
“You’re as white as a ghost,” she said, pressing the back of her hand against my forehead. “You’re clammy too. You might be coming down with something.”
“That doesn’t matter. Even if I were on my death bed, I couldn’t skip this party. Besides,” I said as I yanked out the keys, “nothing a few drinks can’t cure.”
“You’re really acting weird, girlfriend. You’re making me nervous.”
I took another deep breath then shifted in her direction. “Frannie, look, my family is very different than yours.”
“Yeah, they’re freaking rich,” she huffed.
“That’s not what I mean. We are very close, everyone in this neighborhood is. Very, very close.”
“I’m not sure what that means.”
I’d often wondered if forced to describe the situation how I would. I was failing the test rapidly. “Religion is very much a part of our lives, but not in the traditional method. Our close-knit group abides by certain rules of engagement, believing that there is a higher power able to provide wealth and prosperity.”
She shrank back, blinking several times. “That sounds lik
e a cult.”
“Not a cult exactly and I’m not explaining it right. Maybe it’s just a bizarre tradition. That’s it. When daughters turn twenty-four, they are finally allowed to see the contents of a very special gift, one that is created just before their christening.”
Frannie hesitated before smiling nervously, nodding several times. “Oh, okay. That I can understand. My grandparents gave me a very special gift when I was born, only to be opened on my twenty-first birthday.”
“What was the gift?”
“A beautiful necklace belonging to my great-great-grandmother.”
I noticed my bestie was beaming even though her hands were shaking. I’d purposely kept any stories about my past minimal. Another requirement. “That’s wonderful. Well, you never know what to expect with these kinds of things.”
“Stop being nervous. I’m certain it’s something wonderful.”
I could only hope so.
As usual, my mother had made certain the party would be the talk of the Hamptons, complete with festive decorations in crimson and gold. As we walked inside, the sheer number of people was suffocating, but I knew without being introduced that not one of them was from the outside. Even the caterers had some level of ties to the sect.
“Wow,” Frannie said under her breath, her eyes glazed over after only a few minutes. “This is just beautiful.”
“Thanks all to my mother. Her creation.” I grabbed two glasses of champagne from the sparkling silver tray held out by one beefy waiter, dragging my tongue across my lips on purpose.
“My, my. Even the hired help is spectacular.”
I chuckled, giving Frannie an elbow. “And off limits.” I headed for the living room, the location of the ultimate portion of the party. I’d made certain we were exactly thirty minutes late, something that would piss off my parents royally.
“Is your mother an interior decorator?” Frannie asked as I weaved my way through the crowd, every male and female turning to stare at me. There were no congratulations at this point, only looks of envy.
