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“We can’t,” she said as she pulled away from my embrace but took my hand in hers. “I made a commitment. You did too. Pretending they don’t exist, doesn’t make this disappear. We have to go. We have to try.” Her voice broke on the last word.
And I saw then exactly why this woman had subjected herself to every humiliating and degrading and painful Trial the Order had asked of her. She would truly do anything for her family. Even walk back to the Lion’s Den with her head held high and beg.
I took a deep breath and looked at Montgomery. “Call them up. We’ll head back now.”
As I drove us back to the Oleander, I finally broke the long silence between us. “I promise you that once we leave here, I won’t stop until I find a way to get Reba that kidney. I’ll see if I can get Montgomery or other friends to help. I might not have the strength of the Order, but I won’t give up.”
She continued to stare out the window at the rows of oak trees passing by. “The waiting list is long. Really long.”
“I know,” I said. “But I promise you that I’ll fight. I won’t just accept no.”
She sighed and closed her eyes. Her shoulders sunk and her body seemed so small and fragile against the leather of the seat. If I could have taken her into my arms right then and there, I’m not sure I would have ever let her go.
As we pulled up to the manor, I tried to ignore the sick feeling in my stomach. I knew what I had to do, and it was going to test every part of my being. “Are you sure you want to go in there?”
She opened her eyes and nodded. “Nothing we can do but offer our truth.”
Our truth.
Mrs. H met us at the door. She examined Portia’s face and then said, “Whatever happens in there, I want you to know what you did was right.” She looked at me. “It took courage, and I’m very proud of the both of you.”
She led us to the white ballroom where the Elders sat in their silver cloaks with canes in hand behind a long table. The rest of the members flanked the walls, and I knew what would come next.
Judgment.
The Final Ceremony.
“Sully VanDoren. Portia Collins. You both have failed to reach the 109 days to complete the Trials of Initiation,” one of the Elders announced as he stood and struck his cane hard against the floor as a signal that the ceremony had begun.
109. The address of the Oleander, 109 Oleander Lane. Simple upon first reflection, but some numerologist back in the beginning had a field day with it—100 plus 9. 9 being 3x3, and 3 being the number of divinity, well, it was perfect. To pass through 109 days of Trials at the Oleander Manor was to achieve a kind of divinity among their ranks, and be ushered into the brotherhood, the gods of men, modern day kings of empires.
In other words—Such. Utter. Bullshit.
“Because of your breach of our terms about leaving the Oleander, the Order has called for the Final Ceremony to occur now.”
The elder sitting on the far right of the table asked, “Sullivan VanDoren, please state to us why you broke the rule of The Order of the Silver Ghost and left the manor.”
The fuckers knew the answer.
The old me would have spoken those words out loud. I would have been an asshole. I would have pushed. I would have called names. I would have fought for me… instead of fighting for Portia… for us.
But it was now time I bite my tongue and grow the fuck up. It was time. It was long past time.
“There was a family emergency, and Portia needed to be with her sister. The decision was not made lightly, but we both didn’t feel we had a choice,” I said calmly. “The Order stands for loyalty, and if one cannot demonstrate loyalty for one’s family, how can they hope to do so for the Order?”
The elder who first spoke said, “Loyalty to the Order comes first before loyalty to any outside familial connections. You know better. Is there any opposition by any of the Elders as to why we should not disqualify the two?”
“I oppose,” Montgomery said as he took a step toward the Elders. “I know I’m not an elder, but I am now a member of the Order. I feel that this should not only be an elder decision. I feel that every member should have a say in the fate of Mr. VanDoren and Portia Collins. A vote should be cast. We should all have a say.”
I reached out and took Portia’s clammy hand in mine. There was nothing either of us could do but stand before them and hope that our chances weren’t completely over. Could Montgomery help us?
