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“If that’s what you want,” I tell him. He smiles now, thinking he’s won this war. He hasn’t.
“It’s what we need, Ares. We need to secure the next king, and that is you. After this day, I will expect you to find a suitable woman,” he says.
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I’ll choose for you.”
“Like before?”
“I thought we were past that.”
“We are. I’ll find someone,” I tell him with a sigh. He nods his head and walks closer to me. That’s when I pay more attention to what he’s wearing. He’s in a red robe. He’s the king, the god.
“This is yours. Wear it with pride,” he instructs. I reach out and take it from him, holding it up to look at it.
“And my grandfather had one as well?” I ask the obvious questions to make him think I’m really going along with this shit.
“He did, as did his father before him. And it will continue to your child, Ares.” I lift the black robe and turn it around to examine it. It even has my fucking name sewn into it.
“What will we be doing tonight?” I ask as I slip the robe on. My father smiles at the sight before him. He likes this shit. He believes in this shit. My stomach rolls as I think about harming Sage.
“We will all meet tonight. We will light the godly fires, and we will start the ritual.” I nod my head as he turns and heads for the door. He pulls it open and turns, waving me out. I walk out the door with my heart still hammering in my chest. I walk down the stairs and then wait for my father. He walks in front of me, and that’s when I notice the others. They’re all outside waiting on me. The whole fucking neighborhood. They’re all dressed in white robes. I take them all in before my father turns to me.
“They wear white. They don’t get to wear the colors of the God’s.”
“Is this everyone who lives in Bellmont?” I ask as if I didn’t know. I just need him to think I believe in all this shit.
“It is. Even the women are to attend.”
“Why?”
“Some bore these children, Ares. They have to be witness to the ritual.”
“You make them watch their children be killed?” I ask. I’m sick, but even that is too much for me. There’s no way I could ever make my child watch something like that.
“Those girls mean nothing in the greater scheme of things. They were born for this. It’s their job,” he tells me. Their job? Live for twenty-one years and then die? That’s their fucking job? Anger courses through my veins as I think about what he’s saying. I could kill him now with my bare fucking hands. I could strangle the life right out of him.
Instead, I follow him as we walk out into the street. He motions for me to stand next to him, so I do. The others stay behind us as we walk through the neighborhood. No one speaks. No one says a word until we round the corner, and I see it. The fire. The fucking fire from my dream. There are two lines of fire about six feet apart. In the middle is something like an altar. I look at my father, but he doesn’t look at me. He keeps his eyes trained on the fire in front of us.
We keep walking as I take in the scene. There are knives laid on the ground in front of the altar. I count them quickly. Twenty-one. One for each of the girls. One for Sage. I take deep breaths so I don’t do something stupid like kill him first. My father leads me to the altar and motions for me to stand behind the table that sits in front. I take my place as the others come to take theirs. My father bows his head and mumbles things I can’t hear. I watch him as he does it, then raises his head and smiles at me. He raises his hand and motions for someone. Then I see a few of the men are bringing the girls down blindfolded.
I run my hand over my face as the girls are led in front of me and lined up near the fire. I count them to be sure, but there are twenty-one, including Sage. The others? They’re blonde. All have blonde hair, but Sage and I see her standing at the end of the line.
“We shall begin the ritual,” my father announces loudly. I turn to face him as he picks up a glass from the ground I didn’t see before. He takes a sip and passes it to me, nodding for me to take one as well. I do, and that’s when I taste the blood. I know that taste, but whose is it? I don’t have time to question him as he begins to speak. For the most part, I drown out his words and focus on her. My eyes find Sage’s body, and that’s where I look. I know I shouldn’t be doing it, but I can’t stop myself. She’s a fucking magnet that tugs me to her. She’s mine.
When my father stops talking, I turn to face him. I don’t know the exact time, and I don’t know if Ranger’s men are out there. I hope to fuck that they’re ready when this shit goes down because there’s no way I’m going to kill these girls.
“Are you ready to begin?” he asks.
“What do I do?”
“Pick up the first knife,” he nods toward the line of them. I walk over and pick up the first one before he motions for me to come back to my spot. I do and stand with the knife in my hand. Carved on the handle is number one.
“Bring the first sacrifice,” he yells. Two of the men move, grabbing the first girl and bringing her toward us. I’m a little uneasy because they aren’t screaming. Why aren’t they screaming? There is no sound. This doesn’t make sense. Shouldn’t they be fighting? Protesting? Trying to get away?
“On the table,” he says, nodding toward it. They lift the girl, and still, she makes no sound. This is all so strange. What could they have done to them?
The girl is strapped onto the table, spread eagle. Her arms are at the top corners, and her legs are at the bottom. She’s then stripped of her clothes and left naked on the table.
