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CHAPTER FIVE
Malum Noctis, otherwise known as Mischief Night, was the one night when rules were irrelevant and consequences didn’t exist.
Every year on the eve of June 20th, the sons and daughters of the nation’s elite gathered underground in a place called The Chamber, concealed inside a mausoleum at New York’s Green-Wood Cemetery. The other three-hundred-sixty-four days, it was nothing more than a memorial. But today it was a catacomb of sin.
Green-Wood was a four-hundred-acre tribute to the dead with its elaborate memorials, rolling hills, groves of trees, and four lakes. During the day, families came to walk its trails and revel in its medieval beauty. But the night air carried an ominous whisper in its breeze. Tonight, I knew my life would change. I just didn’t know how yet.
Lyric held my hand as we waited beneath a pavilion near one of the lakes. Our only source of light was the moon streaming through the trees and illuminating the water.No cell phones, no exceptions, the invitation had said.
The cemetery was alive tonight—if that could be said about cemeteries. There was a heartbeat here. I felt it, magical and mysterious. Among the gothic memorials and tall, looming trees, there was something more… something powerful beneath the surface. I was just about to take Lyric and walk back to my car when a man in a blood-red, hooded robe grabbed my arm.
“What the fuck, dude?” Lyric said, and he slowly turned his head in her direction.
His identity was hidden beneath a whitePhantom of the Opera-style mask that covered only his forehead, one eye, and one side of his face. I had this feeling I’d seen him before, like I should know him.
His mouth curled into a wicked grin when he looked from her to me. “We’ve been waiting for you…” He let go of my arm and licked his lips. “Tatum.”
I glanced at the invitation in my hand, black cardstock with a serpent shaped to form the letter “O” engraved in red ink. I’d seen the same emblem before on my dad’s desk but had no idea what it meant. The back of the card had only my name, Tatum Huntington, and the rule regarding the phones printed on it.
“This way,” he said, then guided us down a paved pathway to a monument that resembled a white stone chapel. The appearance didn’t fool me. Nothing holy ever happened here.
We followed our guide inside the monument and down a stone staircase lit only by flaming torches fastened to the wall.
I fought the urge to turn around and run. I didn’t belong here. My last name got me an invitation to the elusive gathering, but I wasn’t one of “them.” I’d never been one of them—no matter how much my parents had tried to groom me for their lifestyle. I didn’t want to live my entire life by some ridiculous playbook that was established generations ago. I didn’t want to force a smile that never reached my eyes. I didn’t want a fabricated life. I wantedreal.Yet, here I was, driven to the heart of it by either madness or curiosity… or both.
The closer we got to the bottom of the stairs, the more my body vibrated with anticipation. A nervous tightness gripped my chest.What waited for me on the other side of that door?The walls hummed with a formidable energy. Apprehension and excitement were two forces pulling on the same thread. My nerves were so alive with energy that it felt as though I might snap. I’d even started counting my breaths to keep my mind from wandering. Music echoed from down below, an evocative mix of Gregorian chants blended with the steady beat of low bass and electronic violins.
We stopped at a heavy, wooden door covered in intricate carvings, all gothic and celestial. Another guy in a similar hooded robe and mask pointed to a large steel bowl filled with red glass and fire. The flames licked the glass, bouncing reflections onto the ceiling and the walls around us. It reminded me of the firepit my mother had installed by our pool last year. The thought should have been comforting.
It wasn’t.
I tossed my invitation into the bowl and watched it disintegrate to soot and ash, dispelling any evidence it ever existed.
The second guy opened the door but held up a hand, halting Lyric from going inside. “She doesn’t have an invitation.”
I reached for her hand. “She’s with me.”
Lyric stepped forward until she was toe-to-toe with the door guy. “Do you know who the fuck I am?”
Of course he did. Everyone knew who she was. She was the rebellious “hot daughter” of a rap god. Her last name made her infamous. Her provocative Instagram stories kept her that way.
“No one gets in without an invitation.” His voice was firm. No inflection. No emotion. No concession.
“Okay.” I grabbed Lyric’s hand. “We’ll go.”
The door guy grabbed my arm, his fingertips digging into my flesh all the way through my jacket. “You stay.” He nodded in Lyric’s direction. “She goes.”
I yanked my arm away, ignoring the throbbing ache where his fingers were, and narrowed my eyes at him. “She goes, I go.”
He shared a look with the guide who led us here, and an unspoken conversation flashed between them. Finally, guy number two let out an exhale and brought his hand to my face, catching my chin between two fingers.
He forced me to look at him. “I know you’re new to all this, so I’ll give you a pass.” He let go of my chin. “One pass, Huntington. That’s all you get.”
No one under the age of sixteen was ever invited to Mischief Night. I had no ideawhythey weren’t, just that they weren’t. I’d celebrated my sixteenth birthday two months ago. As far back as I could remember, this party was the topic of bathroom whispers and forbidden fantasies—the holy grail. Everyone knewaboutMischief Night, even though no one knewwhatit really was. Each guest was hand selected by someone who had attended the year before. I was euphoric when I’d first gotten the invitation. Now I wished I had burned it long before I ever tossed it into that bowl.
We walked through the door and entered The Chamber. This place was an enigma. Until now, it was only as fantastic as my imagination would allow. My imagination had nothing on the real thing.
A throng of people—some of them fully clothed and some not—swarmed around each of the four corner bars. A pungent-scented smoke fogged the air. Black iron lanterns lit up gray cobblestone walls with an amber glow. Large stone arches separated the main area from the darker, more obscure places, hidden in the shadows. The dark corners of my mind itched to know what kinds of things needed to be hidden in a place where sins were allowed to roam free. A massive pool filled with sapphire blue water was in the center of it all. The blue of the water reflected off the walls and ceiling, making the entire place feel like an underwater cave or a hidden grotto. I half expected to look up and see Hades himself seated on a throne with a wide smile on his face.
