Page 62 of The Bargain

“Does it have to be?”

At my question, Jamie and Blaise exchange a glance. Dimitri, whose gaze I’m still fixing, sits up, leaning suddenly forward. “Whose blood would you prefer to spill, Lennox?”

And, because I don’t think it was Blaise, or Benjamin, or Jamie who decided to rip me out of my bed and throw a hood over my face and throw me into a freezing fucking lake, I nod at him.

“Yours.”

For a moment, there’s complete silence. I feel the weight of staring eyes on me, and I know I must look a fucking sight, with my wet boxers and my teeth chattering and my hair hanging over my eyes like a half-drowned dog and my legs and arms covered in cuts and bruises, with all the older scars still there, lurking. But I keep my eyes on Dimitri, who finally lumbers to his feet.

He crosses the space between us, footsteps making the old wooden floorboards rattle. And then he reaches out his hand.

“Do your worst, Lennox.”

Behind him, Blaise lets out a soft, surprised laugh. Mikhail Rurik, long fingers playing with a cigarette, sits up, glacial blue eyes fixed on the knife in my hand. Jamie’s mouth is parted; Benjamin’s head slightly tilted. They’re all watching—waiting to see if I have the guts to follow through.

I grab Dimitri’s wrist and slash the inside of his hand, deep, without hesitation. The blood pools in his palm and dribbles down between his fingers, from his knuckles, droplets so thick you can hear them hitting the floor.

“Done?” I say, tossing aside the knife.

Dimitri says absolutely nothing, the silence in the room so thick it’s practically an entity of its own.

It’s only then that I realise I’m shaking from the cold, from the aftereffects of shock. But when has anything in my life ever come easy?

Dimitri’s face breaks into a savage, satisfied grin. “Done,” he says.

Sheer willpower alone stops me from dropping to my knees in relief.

“You crazy fucking bastard,” Dimitri Kavinski says. “Welcome to the Blood Brotherhood.”

Part II

The Falter

@spearcrestinquisitor

What began with a kiss sloppy enough to put Bacchus himself to shame ended—well, let’s just say Montgomery’s antique gallery desk has seen more action than a Sotheby’s auction block.

Romantic? Hardly.

Convincing? Disgustingly so.

Desdemona Sutton-Knight: once untouchable, now very much touched. Elias Lennox: once invisible, now turning every head he passes. What a thing to consider: our venerable head girl kneeling, finally, though not in service to her school. As for the boy from nowhere, it would seem he is learning quickly: one golden girl toppled, all of Spearcrest left to take.

23

Precarious Position

Elias

One Inquisitor post, in Spearcrest, is enough to ruin a life or tear a reputation into shreds.

One Inquisitor post, I find out, is also enough to raise you up high, elevate you to new, dizzying heights.

I knew the Halloween party would change everything, I just didn’t know how fast I would feel the effects of my own plan working, my popularity like a shooting star streaking across a vast expanse.

Once I’m initiated into the Brotherhood, everything, just as I had predicted, falls into place. November arrives gilded with opportunities, invitations, shiny new friends. Not just the Brotherhood—everyone else, too. People who would never before have deigned to approach me for anything except another dubious favour are now crowding me in every public place.

Jamie Vale invites me to his next game, despite the fact I’ve never once shown an interest in sports, and pale-haired, cherubic Gabriel North, the headmaster’s own son, approaches me in physics class under Mr Mazzati’s approving eyes, offering to partner for a project.