My pulse starts to race as he recounts a girl named Bizzy…Elizabeth. But unlike my dreams, he wakes up in terror after finding her bleeding from her mouth on a stone floor; one he recognized recently as the floor outside the Sanctum.
“But you don’t know this person, Elizabeth? Do you know her?”
He cracks his knuckles. “Not exactly. But I met someone recently who has the same name… though it’s not the same girl. It felt,” he holds his breath, letting it out slowly as he paces a few steps, “it still felt…uncomfortable? I can’t explain it.”
Hobey’s tapping of his wooden spoon on the side of his cage keeps time with the panicked beat of my heart. What in the actual flaming hell does this mean?
“You already know this has to be about the Eights. I’m not going to say a thing…to anyone.”
I almost share what I know, but until I figure out how Biz fits into the prophecy, I can’t. No matter how much I feel compelled to tell Rett everything.
Chapter Six
JJ (Josh)
The empty seat next to me at our meeting means Hart will be on even more of a warpath. He’s already yelled at Laird twice.
I take my seat in the House of Eights sanctum. If anyone were to inquire about our group or where we meet, no one other than our twelve members could tell them. And we would deny our existence completely.
Because that is one of the many rules we live by.
The honor I felt at being chosen my freshman year dwindled by the third day of the initiation process. Two solid months of torturous rituals, lack of sleep, and constant terror that I would mess up and lose my place culminated in acceptance.
This is my life now. Or the way I die.
Die from an unfortunate “accident” because I couldn’t hack it.
House of Eights or H.O.E., (the acronym tickles me more than I’ll admit, especially given it aligns with some of our members’reputations), would facilitate the tragedy, but that is never discussed. In my freshman year, two incoming students passed away. One took a fall from a window in the Great Hall, and the other managed to electrocute himself. Both failed the initiation rites. Or so the whispers say.
Maybe I should be grateful that the Eights sought me out to attend Rockefeller Amherst because of my particular gifts, but I’m not there yet.
Right now, I’m more focused on keeping my shit together, because my best friend has disappeared without a word. Does it mean he was eliminated?
All my recollections, my knowledge… the reappearance of her…
I can’t let myself think about it.
Hart is already on his feet at the large oak table, the House of Eights symbol carved at its center. A figure eight with a triangle in the middle. “I’m calling the meeting to order. Who knows where the fuck Van Cleave is?” He nods to the empty seat beside me.
Laird sputters in reply, “I thought he was in Strasbourg… uh, F-France?” His arm shakes as he smooths his hair down.
Ignoring him completely, Hart turns to me. “Where is he, JJ?”
Only one person can successfully stand up to Hart, and that’s Eric. Without him here, Hart runs roughshod over every single one of us. It could be his Type A personality or his raging narcissism, but we all just put up with it. Whatever lies beneath Hart’s attractive face and brilliant mind is frightening. I’ve seen him make a professor cry.
During our meetings, we keep each other up to date on developments in our assignments and any potential issues. The main focus is always on the Eternal Triad… and the Divines, because J.D. Rockefeller ensured the House of Eights would continue to protect the balance in the world.
No biggie, right? Just the fate of humanity sitting in our hands.
Crazy talk. It’s preposterous.
And that’s why we’ve remained a rumor, never confirmed.
Rockefeller was the first person with the power and knowledge to recognize the need to organize the effort, rather than leaving it in the hands of a small group that proved, time and again, to be corrupt.
So, along with the University, the House of Eights was formed in 1893. J.D. Rockefeller and Joseph Amherst sought out the original twelve, and every four years, current members select the next group. We’re scouted for our strengths or our connections. Secrecy is paramount.
In Pythagorean numerology, eight represents victory, prosperity, and overcoming. It is tied to abundance and the endless flow of infinity.
