by Jayla Kane
I could practically feel her impatience through the mask. “You sound like a goddamn nanny.”
“Test me, Raven,” I snarled, looming over her, “and I’ll get you a nice little pink leash, the same shade as your pussy.” Her pupils dilated as she stared at me, her hands balling into fists, and spun the other way. I grabbed her shoulder again. “Wrong way.” I kept my hand on her wrist, loose but encircled, and we started walking again. The Vault was under the library, which seemed a little obvious for a secret lair, but fine, whatever. We walked through a side entrance and no one even gave us a second glance; I’d seen four other drunk kids dressed in the Society’s robes wandering around campus, so it was pretty obvious this little bit of theater was damn effective. Raven glanced around her at the books and I impatiently tugged her arm, leading her towards a door behind one of the shelves on the first floor; there was nothing suspicious about it, and we stepped through and entered the cavernous storage of the library, books brimming over everywhere. Stacks and stacks of them, and Raven wanted to look at them all. “Come on, nerd,” I hissed, dragging her forward. “These aren’t the ones you want, promise.”
We headed towards the back, and I shoved a rolling shelf over and lifted up a trap door, invisible to discern from the linoleum around it. A hidden stairway led into the gloom, the blackness yawning up at us; Raven took a tentative step down and then glanced back at me. “Go ahead,” I said, grabbing the shelf as I followed and tugging it so that it would roll over the hatch when we went down. I slipped beside her and let it slam, then heard the shelf roll over it, just enough to make sure it latched. You couldn’t leave without someone on the other side opening it, supposedly, although I couldn’t imagine anyone with a brain designing it that way. More of the Society’s rumor-mongering bullshit. We turned and took the last few steps in thick shadows, finally reaching the bottom where dim lights glinted a couple feet ahead. The tunnel was narrow but sturdy, clearly having been reinforced for a long time, and the lights were electric—but just barely. They hissed and popped as we passed, and I pulled Raven closer to me, not letting her get too far ahead.
The Vault’s chamber was underneath of the Commons; I wasn’t entirely sure what held the ceiling up. We walked down, down, down, the room sloping into a spiral that landed on a gigantic circular floor. There was a low platform in the center, also in the shape of a circle, and every single wall was lined with books. All of them. There were no columns to be seen, nothing that I could detect that kept the ground from caving in, and as if to emphasize the insanity of where we were, three pools of light shimmered down on us from above—the bottoms of the fountains in the Commons. I always thought there was concrete on the bottom, but it must have been some kind of dark, one-way reflective glass, because sure enough, a drunk freshman stomped in the water, her footsteps perfectly visible against the surface, plain as day. But no one could see us down below. Tree roots grew like pale, twisted spider legs over the entire ceiling and tapered down the walls, which I also assumed were concrete but… Not. The whole place terrified me. I hated bringing Raven here.
But I could tell just from the set of her shoulders that she was pretty damn pleased.
There were four Council members standing on the platform, and they didn’t appear to be in the middle of anything. Just gathering. Now that I knew him, I recognized Percy’s rangy frame, the confidence in his step. No one spoke, but he and I nodded to each other. I’d debated using the information he gave me about Bailey to my advantage, somehow, but I had a weak spot for calculated honesty. He would definitely make a better ally than enemy. And besides, who was I kidding? I was addicted to Raven. I’d forgo sex with just about anyone if I was able to see that petal pink pussy one more time. Just one. Although we had no such arrangement, and for me to even think of it was an abuse of the power the Society gave me—Raven had me there—I couldn’t let go of the thought. The idea. There was no tenderness in it; she was my drug of choice, and I knew it. That was all: madness.
But it saved me from making more of a mess with Percy, and Bailey, for that matter. I’d sent her flowers yesterday morning with a note attached wishing her luck during pledge week, and left it at that. It was more than I usually did, and I hoped it assuaged her brother’s sense of honor a little bit.
My hand tightened on Raven’s delicate wrist.
“Master of Games,” a voice said, and I looked behind me; I wouldn’t have recognized the figure coming down the stairs before, but now I knew it was the tall woman from the Commons—the one that presented me with three options for my partner, huddled in garbage on the ground. For some reason, I disliked her now. “Sineater,” she said, descending the long, sloping walkway and meeting us on the ground floor. She must have been here when I signed, but I didn’t remember her. “Prompt.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just waited. I wanted to speak as little as possible; the one advantage I had in this scenario was that I hadn’t picked Raven up from class, so my identity might still be somewhat secret to more of the members of the Society. It was possible; although I think a lot of people guessed it was me, for obvious reasons, Hunter had been working overtime to frame some other likely candidates. I hoped none of the people present were on to us.
“Why are we here?” That was Percy; I appreciated his devil-may-care attitude at the moment. The Song was a dangerous position to hold, really, because the consequences of being a part of this group could get nasty, I thought, out there in the real world. In the digital age, in particular, someone could blast out a video showing incriminating evidence—or seeming to, anyway—and destroy someone’s reputation forever. Percy was bold. I knew he wasn’t stupid—hopefully he was just bold, and not reckless. I pulled Raven in front of me, resting my hands on her upper arms, and willed her to be quiet and still. Please, I thought. Shut up.
“The Game Master has violated the rules,” the woman said, and every single masked face turned towards me. So much for not knowing who I am.
“How?” I didn’t recognize that voice; it was a man’s, deeper and older than I expected. He didn’t sound like a student at all.
“He’s been spying on us,” the woman said, and there was a hiss of breath from one of them, but I couldn’t tell which.
“How?” The man again, agitated and pissed. He was short, stocky; I marked his frame and wondered if he might be a professor. The Institute didn’t have many adult students—they didn’t have a lot of night classes, and even part-timers had trouble getting all of the credits they needed every semester. It wasn’t designed with them in mind.
“He mounted a camera in the library,” the woman said, and Percy leaned back—in admiration, I thought, and liked him more. He probably wished he thought of that himself.
“How is that a violation of the rules?” Goddamnit, Raven, I thought, and squeezed her arms, hoping she would interpret that as a demand for silence. Instead, she leaned back to step on my foot. “The Game Master isn’t beholden to many of the rules the others follow—”
“He is not allowed to compromise the identities of the members of the Society,” the woman said, her voice cold. “He may not violate the sanctity of secrecy.”
“He hasn’t,” Raven protested and this time I grabbed her and pushed her behind myself, willing them to look at me instead, to forget my mouthy little bird.
“He has,” the woman said, and from the folds of her robe she pulled out and dropped my cameras with a loud thud. They were expensive, I thought, sighing. Oh well. “The punishment will be whipping.”
“What?” Percy spun towards her, and two of the other members took a step back, their heads swiveling between us.
“That is the penalty,” the woman said, “clearly stated in the rules.”
“Where are these rules? I didn’t get a copy of any rules.” A woman’s voice, also a bit older, still in her twenties. And new to the Society, like we were.
“They were printed on the back of the letter,” the woman said indifferently, “
and if you didn’t care to read them, you don’t know what they are.”
“But—”
“Come,” she said, turning towards me. “Accept your punishment or be banished.”
Whipping? I… I shivered, my hands involuntarily tightening, the blood in my body cooling rapidly. I hoped it was an actual whip—I couldn’t handle—no, they wouldn’t—
“How about a good old fashioned spanking?” I was relieved to hear my voice didn’t shake as much as my hands. “The Sineater can do it, she’s got such a delicate touch.” Percy snorted, thankfully, but the woman was gazing at me from under her mask. I couldn’t see a single discernible feature—it was like everything beneath it was slightly greyed out. Blurry. This room was too dark. “How about I set up those cameras in here, and we can all monitor the feed?” I grinned behind my mask. “That might be better for—”
“Acceptance or banishment,” she said again, and this time she turned from me and beckoned to the man, the one with the deep voice. To my growing horror, he reached beneath his robes and pulled out a belt.
No. No. How would they—did they know? Was it possible—
“Acceptance,” Raven said, and stepped forward. I was so terrified by the sight of the belt I felt her go, but I didn’t realize what she was doing until she passed me.
“No,” I said, reaching forward, but she pulled away again, light on her feet. I followed, going for her arm, and lurched to a stop; someone was holding me back.
“The punishment—”
“Is for the Game Master,” Raven said, her voice steady. “And I am the Sineater. I will pay the penalty.”
“No! No—” More than one person, several, they were pulling--
“That’s in the rules, right?” Raven’s voice was cold, as if she didn’t believe the woman’s assertion that everyone knew about these penalties. She was banking on her knowledge of the Sineater’s position I guess, and after a second the woman shrugged.
“So be it,” she said, and I started to pull forward to move towards them again—and strong arms held me, slithering around my limbs. Four members of the Society—minions, from their red masks—held me fast, and a fifth wrapped a rope around my neck and pulled, pressing the fibers against my adam’s apple. I felt his foot square in the middle of my spine when I yanked forward again, the leverage jerking my head like I was a dog on a leash.
The short man moved quickly towards Raven. “Kneel,” he snarled, and when she did he pulled her robe over her head. Thank god she was wearing shorts—but then he-- I couldn’t bear this—I couldn’t—
“Whoa,” one of the guys holding me muttered, finding it more difficult to keep me still, and as the belt arced through the air I wrenched my hand free. Smashed it into his face.
“One,” the woman said, and I glanced over to see Raven, her white skin striped red. He was using the end with the buckle, his hand sailing through the air—
“Stop!” This was one of the other guys holding me as I kicked him, hard, his knee bending awkwardly; the rope around my neck tightened, and I swung again. One down, one bleeding. Three to go. The room twisted around me; I heard murmurs, rumblings, but all I could see was the pale skin, striped with red.
“Two!” Raven’s back was so pale.
“Three! I felt something crumple in the third guy’s face; my vision was getting blurry, and it was getting harder and harder to breathe. Maybe I broke his nose, I thought, when he wailed so loudly I didn’t hear the woman announce the next mark on Raven’s back. Blackness crowded the edge of my sightline. I swung my elbows in a wide arc, but they missed; someone punched me in the gut. There was so much screaming—why did they have to choose a belt? Why that? Why—
When I came to, Percy and Raven were leaning over me, her smooth hands patting my face. I reached for her, then realized I was flat on my back and sat up; I wasn’t too bad off. Somebody got in a good kick in the kidneys while I was down, but I wasn’t the one I was worried about.
“She’s alright,” Percy said softly when I immediately grabbed her, spun her around, and stared at the lines striping her skin. “Or she will be, with some ice and a couple days of rest.” His face was impassive, but his eyes were hard. “Maybe you should be more careful in the future, Game Master.”
“Why did you let them—”
“I didn’t let them do shit,” Percy spat out, staring at me. “I’m going to go home and find that letter right now, and I advise you do the same—something tells me this isn’t the usual fun and games.”
“Thanks, Percy,” Raven said, and his face softened as he nodded at her, then turned towards the long ramp and dashed up it. The ceiling above us was brighter; I could see the white face of the moon through the water, beaming down on us. “He tried talking to her—arguing with her,” Raven said softly, following my gaze up to the ceiling. “When it was happening. He said since I wasn’t given a letter—and don’t ask me how he knew that—I didn’t know what the penalty really was, and it wouldn’t be fair to give me the full punishment.” She sighed, rolling her head on her neck. “She didn’t agree. But it was only ten, although I’m pretty sure that creep would’ve done more in a heartbeat.”
I stared up, remembering—remembering many other nights, nights with a moon, nights without, nights when people screamed. Me and Tristan, and then just me.
And then I thought of what she’d done and I…
I lost it.
I felt a part of myself shattering, breaking into pieces, irretrievably lost. A part of me I would never know, now, a part that I made to protect myself, to shield me from this kind of pain. Because pain like this blinds—it maims, it devours.
I ripped the robe off, staring up at the moon. Not looking at her, unable to see her face, her back, unable to see anything but hate. I pulled our clothes out, shoving hers across the floor to her feet, and got dressed; we’d go back a different way, and there was no reason to wear these again. Maybe ever again—I wasn’t sure. I felt my heart going a million miles an hour in my chest, the raw skin on my throat, and burned. Burned.
I was going to destroy the Society. Rip it apart, leave it in ashes.
But first, I needed to deal with her.
The Sineater.
Chapter Eighteen
Raven
Jake stopped talking.
He was white—his face was white, completely drained of blood, and his eyes… Contracted, almost, as if the white were swallowing the iris. It was terrifying. And I realized that’s what I was looking at: terror.
He was angry, sick with it, and feeling hopeless and hurt and also… He was terrified. The prick with the belt, he must have known; Jake was right. Someone in the Society had it out for him, and they knew too much. No one should know about that, now—it was ages ago, although… That kind of thing makes waves, and more people knew what was going on than you’d think, given that none of them did a damn thing. I guess it didn’t happen often enough, or maybe they could explain it away… Maybe they just didn’t believe the boys. I don’t know. But Jake wasn’t someone who liked feeling weak. He wasn’t someone who could handle being reminded that once upon a time, he was just a little boy who couldn’t get away.
I swallowed my sarcastic response that a ‘thank you’ would be nice and followed him across campus; he didn’t give me a choice. His hand was a vice on my wrist. Maybe he wasn’t thankful—maybe I hadn’t even done it for him. I don’t know. I might have done it for that little boy. I might have done it for myself.
He dragged me up the stairs and into his room, slamming the door behind us with a solid thud. I heard the lock turn and glanced back at him, then wondered if I should just bend over the bed or something. He looked like he probably wanted to spank me—maybe worse, actually. But he wouldn’t hurt me anymore, that I knew. I was safe with him, and even if he hated me, even if he misunderstood what I’d done, or did understand it and that made him even angrier… It was over now. He needed to deal with whatever this was, and then we could go back to… To whate
ver the hell we were doing, now that we weren’t friends, and this little event sealed our standing with the Society as outlaws.
Jake spun me around again. The room was dark, in spite of the moon; it must have moved to the other side of the building by now, as it was after midnight. I felt his fingers lightly run down the nape of my neck, over my spine, and shivered; the faintest touch, and I was wet. Jesus, I wished my body hated him as much as my brain did. His fingers tugged on the neckline of my t-shirt, and I almost said it was easier the other way—when did I get so comfortable with him taking off my clothes? I don’t know—but then his other hand joined the first and he shredded my shirt. Right down the middle. “You motherfuck—” I started to turn towards him, but his hands brushed the skin on my back and I sharply inhaled. It really wasn’t that bad—well, the parts with the belt weren’t that bad. The buckle stung, terribly. Worse than any burn I’ve ever had. But I could feel the skin already starting to recover, the cool air brushing against the wounds like a soothing kiss. Jake unsnapped my bra and pushed it over my shoulders so that it fell off of me, and I tossed it in the corner, my whole body at attention. I was getting far too used to this.
My nipples were hard. I swallowed and waited, unsure of what he would do next.