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Ten minutes later, I'm sitting beside Marcus in the back of a black SUV complete with blacked-out windows and driver, head-to-toe in black.
I glance over at him, my fists clenched so tightly on my lap I wouldn't be surprised to find my nails have pierced the skin of my palms when I finally uncurl them. I have no idea where we're going, and Marcus doesn't seem to want to give up the information, either.
"You need to put this on," he says after what feels like the longest silence in history.
I look at his hand to find a black blindfold between his fingers.
Why am I not fucking surprised.
Despite the fact that I want to argue, I already know it won't get me anywhere, so instead I take the fabric from him and slip it over my eyes.
With my vision gone, the rest of my senses come to life. The second the car comes to a stop and I'm encouraged to step out, I focus on the scent of pine that fills the air and the fact that it's deadly silent aside from our feet on the gravel beneath us.
Marcus—well, I assume it's Marcus—leads me forward with his hand on my shoulder until I hear a sound not unlike when he opened his front door earlier and this whole fucking nightmare began.
"Step," he whispers, stopping me from falling on my face a second before my toes connect with the concrete.
We take a few more steps forward, the chill in the air as well as all the unknowns right now making my skin erupt in goose bumps.
"You can remove the blindfold now."
Part of me doesn't want to. While I can't see, I'm in the dark—figuratively and literally—about what's happening around me. But knowing I won't be able to hide much longer, I reach out and pull the fabric from my face.
"What the hell?" I breathe, taking in the scene before me.
We're in some kind of old church. Candles line the walls, casting a warm glow throughout the vast space, and the rows of pews occupied by countless black-hooded figures.
"What is this?"
"It's the Initium. It's for you, and the new Rexford offering."
"I'm an offering?" I ask, reading between the lines.
Marcus nods, but he doesn't speak again. Instead, he wraps his fingers around my upper arm and walks me forward, down the aisle toward a cloaked figure standing at the front. "Cargill," he says once we come to a stop. "I present the Easton Electi initium. Bexley Louis Easton."
The figures turn to reveal two more men who each assess me silently.
My hands tremble at my sides under their scrutiny, and I hate that I'm intimidated by them, but there's no fucking chance I'm going to show it. I might not have a fucking clue as to what's going on right now, but there's no way I'm showing even an ounce of weakness.
I lift my chin in their direction as the door we came through only minutes ago closes behind us once again.
Footsteps head our way before two more hooded figures come to a stop beside us.
"Cargill," one of them says, just like Marcus did. "I present the Rexford Electi initium. Alexander Harrison Rexford."
Alex?
I turn to the side and find exactly what I was expecting.
Alex is standing in the same insane outfit that I am, only he doesn't look like he usually does. There's no sign of the smirk that's usually playing on his lips, and his face is white, as if all the blood drained out of it a while ago.
"Thank you," one of the men says, nodding to Marcus and the man who brought Alex in. "You may be seated."
Rustling sounds out behind us, and, finally, Alex looks over at me. His eyes widen in shock when he recognizes me. Confusion covers his face. It's a look I understand, and a huge part of me is relieved that I'm not the only one who doesn't have a fucking clue what is happening right now.
"Easton, Rexford. Thank you for your offering."
Both Marcus and Mr. Rexford take a step forward and stand either side of the two men before us.
