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There were no windows—no view of the stunning bay—or lights overhead. Candles flickered, lined around the edges of the room. The smell of freshly cut magnolia flowers filled my nose, mixed with a delicious aroma of food that made my stomach rumble.
Once again, I was struck with a sense of grandeur that made everything about me feel outdated and inadequate.
In the candlelight, a lone man sat at a table. His suit was a bespoke blend of merino wool and silk, and his black and blue African bead necklace absorbed the light, creating an eerie dark aura around him. He blended into the shadows, like a sentinel in the room's center amid an eerie stillness.
Other shadows lined the room, looming tall and unnaturally motionless—bodyguards.
“Miss Duvall,” the man stood, his voice deep and authoritative. “Welcome.”
“Hello.” As I drew close, I recognized one of the men from the bank.
“We’ve spoken before, but I did not give you my name. It’s Emerson Forten. You may call me Emerson.” Reaching forward, I gripped his hand in a firm handshake. His eyes met mine, and a deep, foreboding chill followed in its wake. “Please sit,” he gestured across the table towards a lone chair.
Apprehension crept up my spine, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and my palms go clammy.
I wasn’t sure what it was about him that made me so nervous.
It might have been his towering height over me, the candlelight glinting off his balding head and flickering in his eyes. Maybe it was his hard gaze, piercing straight through me, making me feel invisible. Or his trimmed, black and grey beard that swallowed his mouth, as if hiding secrets whispered in back rooms.
Or it could just be the dark room—its muted stillness like being underwater.
Whatever it was, it made my hands clammy and I found myself clenching my dress. As soon as I realized it, I released the cloth, hoping it hadn’t left a stain.
I’d been so careful not to get anything on it.
“Summer?” Olivia had pulled out the chair and was staring expectantly at me.
I sat, my back straight, trying to be the right amount of proper, and took in the table setting.
A beautiful magnolia flower centerpiece, with dark green ivy crawling between us. There were two plates covered by a silver cloche, silver cutlery, and a folded napkin. I picked it up and placed it in my lap, my hands resting there, waiting.
"So," Emerson didn’t move. “You've decided to join us.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you know anything about the Magnolia?”
I swallowed hard. “Not much.”
“We’re a chapter of the Obscura Veritas, a non-profit that, among other things, sponsors charity cases like yours.” I squirmed with embarrassment. “Obscura Veritas means vigilant truth,” he continued, “and we vigorously seek and guard it. One of our beliefs is, in mendacio est veritas—in lies, there is truth.” He picked up a glass of red wine and swirled it, the dark, red color reminding me of blood, “Do you agree?”
My face paled. I hadn’t expected some kind of test. Maybe sign some documents or fill out a form or something.
Aware of the eyes on me in the room, I swallowed hard. “Absolutely. When someone lies, they can reveal a truth about themselves.”
“Exactly,” he gave me an approving smile, “and when we are smart enough to find it, that is where you will find true power. Quod latet, inveniendum est—what is hidden, must be discovered.”
There was a pause, as if expecting me to speak, his eyes studying me.
I felt like he was trying to tell me something—was it about Rook? Or possibly my father? My heart picked up. My mother?
The Magnolia itself?
“You have no idea how powerful that can be, Summer. It’s an indomitable force in this world. With it, we protect each other. We also use it to take what we want. To fulfill dreams…” there was a pause, “such as yours.”
“Thank you.”
“And,” he gestured towards me with his glass, “the truth will be inside you, too, Miss Duvall. Have you ever been afraid?”
