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I had to think fast. What could I do with the recorder? I bent at the waist and unhooked my bra, popping the small black device into my mouth behind the curtain of my hair. I righted and smiled, feeling the smooth metal under my tongue. Now everything that was about to happened would go unrecorded, but I had no other choice. I stepped out of my panties and stood naked.
The Lieutenant’s eyes trailed over me. “You might have come here for pain or pleasure. I don’t care, really. Because the Pater Society is about liberation.”
The Pater Society. The snakelike sibilance ofsocietynearly got lost in the hissing, popping fire.
“It’s about embracing the truth. Something that’s become so controversial there’s few safe spaces left in this country to do it. Everything we submit our bodies to here, every gathering, every ritual, it’s all testimony.”
He rose from his chair. “The first truth we recognize is that society is rotting from the inside out. Becoming more unrecognizable every day. The Creator built men and women for a purpose, built a sacred order, and we’ve rejected it. What an exhausting performance, to have to deny our true natures, masquerade every day. But not here. Not with us.”
The Lieutenant walked to a table in the corner and rolled open a drawer. “Consider this you putting some skin in the game.”
He pulled out a black iron rod. On one end was a twisted metal shape: a triangle with four protruding columns, meeting in a rectangular base. It was the symbol on Laurel’s and Nicole’s arms—unmistakably a temple, looking at it now. A temple for the Pater Society.
In the fireplace, the flames crackled. And I understood.
Laurel hadn’t been tattooed. She’d been branded, like cattle. And now this man wanted to do it to me.
A cold wave of fear washed through me. Instinctively, I took a step back, nearly tripping over my tangled dress. “No. There has to be another way.”
“Submit,” the Lieutenant said. “Or leave, and never come back.”
I couldn’t do either. If I let him brand me, I’d wear their mark for the rest of my life. There’d be no escaping. But if I didn’t, how would I ever know the truth about how Laurel died, or who was pulling the strings behind the Pater Society, whether Don was masquerading as the Philosopher? If Laurelhadbeen killed, how would I avenge her? The urge to protect myself warred against the possibility of losing Laurel all over again. In the end, which was the more unbearable pain?
“Open your mouth and say yes,” the Lieutenant demanded.
The command tugged at a long-buried instinct. I spoke around the recording device, whispering, “Yes.”
The Lieutenant pointed to the floor in front of the fireplace. “Kneel.”
Laurel did this,I told myself.If she could do it, so can you.
I dropped to my knees, feeling the heat of the fire on my side searing my skin.
“Call us traditionalists.” The Lieutenant’s voice was light, almost lazy. He stuck the iron in the flames and rotated it like a spit. “Men and women who believe in the old ways. People come to us when they’re lost, when they can’t understand why they feel alienated and alone. We teach them, give them the meaning they long for, connection without artifice. We’re a refuge. Here, people become their truest selves. All you need to do is to listen to your Paters.”
He pulled the iron from the fire. The temple glowed red-hot. I bit down on my tongue so hard I reopened the wound from the night I’d dreamed of Laurel and tasted coppery blood.
“Lift your arm.”
I did, feeling dizzy, even down here on my knees. Once, I’d abandoned Laurel and Clem when they’d needed me. What would I do to make up for my past?
The answer was anything.
He gripped my wrist and pressed the brand to my arm. Vicious, seething pain knifed through me, the worst I’d ever felt. I screamed and jerked, but the Lieutenant held me tight.
“Daughters practice radical humility in order to ascend,” he said, voice low and calm against my choking. “When a Pater tells you to do something, you say, ‘Yes, Pater,’ and you do it. You’ll attend every gathering and do exactly as you’re told. If you’re lucky, and a Pater wants to take you under his wing, he’ll honor you by asking for your personal service. Nicole is often honored, aren’t you?”
Through my tears, I saw Nicole nod. Her face was starkly pale.
“And I will warn you,” the Lieutenant said, his voice turning low and flat. “We’re everywhere. Where you least expect us. We’re a dangerous enemy. If you tell someone about us, we’ll know. Do you understand? No whispers to family or friends. No doctors. No matter what.”
I was in agony. He removed the iron from my arm, and the sudden stench of burning flesh made bile rise in my throat. It was the smell of my skin dying. The temple blazed a bright, raw red. There was no going back.
He walked to the table and laid down the iron. “You’ll stay quiet. And if you don’t, what will happen, Nicole?”
“She’ll come for you,” Nicole said softly.
My head lifted. “She?” I forced the word through the pain. “Who?”
