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Bella and Mary appeared behind the queen.
"We want to talk with you," Beth said. "It's about Butch."
Butch stirred in his bed. Cracked open an eye. Cursed as he saw the clock. He'd overslept, probably because of how hard he'd gone the night before. Were three lessers too much in one night? Or maybe it had been feeding -
Oh, hell, no. He was so not thinking of that. Not remembering that.
He rolled over onto his back -
And jacked right off the mattress. "Oh ... f**k."
Five figures in black hooded robes surrounded his bed.
Wrath's voice came first in the Old Language, then in English: "There is no going back from the question that shall be posed to you this night. You shall be given it only once, and your answer will stand for the rest of the life you lead. Are you prepared to be asked?"
The Brotherhood. Holy Mary, Mother of God.
"Yes," Butch breathed, grabbing his cross.
"Then I shall say unto you now, Butch O'Neal descendant of mine own blood, and the blood of mine father, will you join us?"
Oh... shit. Was this real? A dream?
He looked at each one of the hooded figures. "Yes. Yes, I will join you."
A black robe was thrown at him. "Tender this to your skin, raising the hood unto your head. At all times, you shall say nothing unless spoken to. You shall keep your eyes on the ground. Your hands shall be clasped at the small of your back. Your bravery and the honor of the bloodline we share shall be measured in every action you take."
Butch stood up and pulled on the robe. Wished briefly he could hit the bathroom -
"You will be permitted to empty your body. Do it now."
When Butch came out, he made sure his head was down and his hands were linked behind him.
As a heavy hand landed on his shoulder, he knew it was Rhage's. No one else's palm weighed so much.
"Come with us now," Wrath said.
Butch was led out of the Pit and right into the Escalade, the SUV parked practically in the vestibule, as if they didn't want anyone to know what was happening.
After Butch slid into the back, the Escalade's engine turned over and many doors were shut. With a lurch, they slowly progressed through what he assumed was the courtyard until they started to bump along like they were heading over the back lawn and into the woods. No one said a thing, and in the silence he couldn't help wondering what the hell they were going to do to him. For sure this was not going to be a cakewalk.
Eventually the SUV stopped and everyone got out. Trying to follow the rules, Butch stepped to the side and stared at the ground, waiting for someone to lead him. Someone did while the Escalade was driven away.
As Butch shuffled forward he was able to see moonlight on the ground, but then the source of light was abruptly cut off and it became utterly dark. Were they in a cave? Yes... they were. The smell of damp earth filled his nose and beneath his bare feet he could feel small stones taking bites out of his soles.
Some forty steps later he was jerked to a stop. There was a whispering sound and then more walking, now on a downward slope. Another stop. More quiet noises as if a well-oiled gate was being retracted.
Then warmth and light. A polished floor of... marble. Glossy black marble. As they continued along, he had the sense that they were processing through some high-ceilinged place because what little sounds they made reverberated upward and echoed. There was another pause, followed by lots of shifting of fabric... the brothers disrobing, he thought.
A hand clamped on the back of his neck and the deep growl of Wrath's voice shot into his ear. "You are unworthy to enter herein as you stand now. Nod your head."
Butch nodded.
"Say that you are unworthy."
"I am unworthy."
The Brotherhood's voices suddenly let out a loud, hard shout in the Old Language, as if in protest.
Wrath continued: "Though you are not worthy, you desire to become as such this night. Nod your head."
He nodded.
"Say that you wish to become worthy."
"I wish to become worthy."
Another shout in the Old Language, this time a cheer of support.
Wrath went on: "There is only one way to become worthy and it is the right and proper way. Flesh of our flesh. Nod your head."
He nodded.
"Say that you wish to become flesh of our flesh."
"I wish to become flesh of your flesh."
A low chanting started up, and Butch had the impression that a line had formed in front of and behind him. Without warning, they started to move, the back and forth surging motion mirrored by the cadence of powerful male voices. Butch struggled to get into the rhythm, bumping forward into what he suspected was Phury by the subtle scent of red smoke, then getting bumped from behind by what he knew was Vishous just because he knew. Shit, he was making a mess of the whole thing -
And then it happened. His body found the groove and he was moving with them... yes, they were all as one with the chanting and the movement, back... forth... swaying left... then right... the voices, not the muscles of their thighs, carrying their feet forward.
Suddenly, there was an acoustic explosion, the sounds of the chanting fracturing and re-forming in a thousand different directions: They had entered a vast space.
A hand on his shoulder told him when to halt.
The chanting stopped as if unplugged, the sounds ricocheting for a while, then floating away.
He was taken by the arm and led forward.
At his side, Vishous said in a low voice, "Stairs."
Butch stumbled a little, then took the steps. When he got to a plateau, he was positioned by V, his body put... wherever it needed to be. As he settled into his stance, he had the sense he was right in front of something big, his toes up against what seemed to be a wall.
In the silence that followed, a bead of sweat dripped off his nose and landed right between his feet on the glossy floor.
V squeezed his shoulder as if in reassurance. Then stepped away.
"Who proposes this male?" the Scribe Virgin demanded.
"I, Vishous, son of the Black Dagger warrior known as the Bloodletter, do."
"Who rejects this male?" There was quiet. Thank God.
Now the Scribe Virgin's voice took on epic proportions, filling the space around them and every inch between Butch's ears until all he knew was the sound of the words she spoke. "On the basis of testimony from Wrath son of Wrath, and upon the proposal by Vishous, son of the Black Dagger warrior known as the Bloodletter, I find this male before me, Butch O'Neal, descended of Wrath son of Wrath, an appropriate nomination unto the Black Dagger Brotherhood. As it is within my power and discretion to do so, and as it is suitable for the protection of the race, I have waived the requirement of the maternal line in this case. You may begin."
Wrath spoke. "Turn him. Unveil him."
Butch was repositioned so he faced out, and Vishous removed the black robe. Then the brother slipped the gold cross around so it hung down Butch's back, and walked away.
"Lift thine eyes," Wrath ordered.
Butch's breath sucked in as he looked up.
He was standing on a black marble dais, staring out at a subterranean cave lit by hundreds of black candles. In front of him there was an altar made of a huge stone lintel balanced on two squat posts... on top of which was an ancient skull. Beyond that, lined up before him, was the Brotherhood in all their glory, five males whose faces were solemn and whose bodies were strong.
Wrath broke ranks and came up to stand at the altar. "Step back against the wall and hold on to the pegs."
Butch did as he was told, feeling smooth, cool stone against his shoulders and his ass as his hands fell onto two sturdy grips.
Wrath brought up his hand and it was... shit, it was covered by an antique silver glove that sported barbs at the knuckles. Inside the fist he was making was the handle of a black dagger.
Extending his arm, the king scored himself down the wrist and held the wound over the skull, the dome of which had a silver cup mounted in it. What flowed from Wrath's vein was caught and held, a glossy red pool that caught the candlelight.
"My flesh," Wrath said. Then he licked his wound closed, put the blade down, and approached Butch.
Butch swallowed hard.
Wrath clapped his palm on Butch's jaw, shoved his head back and bit him in the neck, hard. Butch's whole body spasmed and he gritted his teeth to keep from yelling out, his hands squeezing at the pegs until his wrists felt like they were going to snap. Then Wrath stepped back and wiped his mouth.
