Devils & Rye

by Alta Hensley

  “Jesus. Why? Why would any of you want to be part of this?”

  “It’s sick. It’s why I chose to leave it all behind a long time ago. The ritual is supposed to be symbolic of a society that thrived for decades. To demonstrate power, control, dark desires, and show that there is a price to pay for it all.” I paused, hating the way she was looking at me. “You have to remember that both your father and I were born into this. It’s hard to walk away from a heritage and tradition that has always been. Blue blood connections are almost impossible to break. It doesn’t make it right, but it was just the reality that your father and I were part of our entire lives.”

  Accepting my answer with a slight nod, Makayla asked, “So, that’s why my father was so overprotective of me? He was worried I would be pulled into the ritual.”

  “I’ve seen the ritual,” I confessed. “I would fear that as well. I can’t imagine you being part of it.”

  “But my name was drawn when I left for New Orleans and that is why my father sent us here. Right?”

  I nodded. “It seems so.”

  “And because my father refused, they are forcing him to do the Russian roulette?”

  I nodded again. “He’s sacrificing himself. It’s one of the rules of the ritual. Someone can sacrifice to save someone else. It’s rarely done, but it can be.”

  “Where does this ritual take place?”

  “Do you remember the Myers’ mansion?”

  “That old plantation?” Her eyes grew wide. “I’ve been there so many times as a kid. We would go there for BBQs and parties. The Myers are part of this? This can’t be true. They were such nice people.”

  “I can bet everyone you have ever known is part of The Iron Colt Brotherhood. Like I said, every powerful man in Georgia and the south is connected to it or knows about it and covets a spot. Not everyone involved is bad. Like I said, the pull by bloodline alone is what makes breaking away almost impossible. And if you want to be a rich man and succeed in any form of business, then you can’t just walk away. The brotherhood can make or break you.”

  “This can’t be allowed!” Makayla shouted, standing from the chair. “I’ll call the police. They’ll stop it. I won’t let my father risk dying because of some fucked up old ritual done by power hungry crazed men.”

  I sighed heavily, frustrated by the naivety of her statement. “Do you really think the police aren’t aware and paid handsomely by the brotherhood? There is no part of Georgia The Iron Colt Brotherhood does not control.”

  Makayla collapsed back in the rocker in defeat and sat there in silence for several moments before asking, “So, do the women die? In the first part of the ritual that Papa is protecting me from, do I have a chance of dying?”

  “No. Though I’m sure some wish for death during it.”

  “But I wouldn’t die?”

  “No…” I narrowed my eyes on her, pretty sure where she was going with this. “Makayla, your father refused. He already made up his mind and put his name in your place. So if you are thinking—”

  “That it would be better for me to do it than him,” Makayla interrupted. “At least no one would die that way.”

  I could see she was getting agitated and worked up again, and I needed to try to diffuse her belief that she could swoop in and save the day. She didn’t understand the way the brotherhood worked, and as much as I wanted to fix this in any way I could, I just couldn’t think of a way.

  “Do you know when the ritual is?” she asked.

  “Yes, in two days.” I reached out for her hand and squeezed. “Makayla, I know this isn’t what you want to hear. But all we can do is sit here and hope for the best. There is still a chance your father could walk away from the roulette. Some other poor bastard could be the dead man. Not him.”

  She didn’t answer me, but turned her head to stare out at the lake. I took her silence as a sign that, though she didn’t like the situation anymore than I did, she realized we had to just pray Rhett walked away with his life.

  “I’m going to go get us something to drink. I think we could both use it.”

  Very softly, she asked, “Will you go down to the wine cellar and get a good bottle?”

  “Of course,” I said as I stood and bent over to kiss her on the top of her head. “All is not lost yet.”

  “You’re right,” she agreed with a weak smile. “All is not lost yet.”

  12

  Makayla

  It was fair to say that I hadn’t made the wisest choice by deciding to steal Alec’s car while he was in the wine cellar. It also wasn’t smart to drive all day to attempt to find the Myers’ mansion only to wind up driving some desolate backwoods road in the middle of a rainstorm—at the beginning of the night. I fancied myself a wise woman in regards to books and academia but not full of street smarts, and definitely not self-reliant. My father had made sure of that by keeping me locked away from anything he considered a risk… which was everything.

  Alec would be furious when he came back upstairs to find me gone, and I knew he would be quick to follow me. But the time it would take for him to find a new car would buy me some time, and I did have a head start. I had to do something. No way would I just sit at the lake house and hope for the best. Not when I could sacrifice myself instead of my father. I could, and I would.

  Alec’s car’s windshield wipers barely kept up with clearing the massive amount of water sluicing across the foggy glass. I fiddled with the knob, hoping to speed up the back and forth motion to no avail. It was almost impossible to see the road without even a sliver of light in the cloudy night’s sky.

  Where the hell was I? All I could see was a few feet ahead of me of a road that seemed to lead to nowhere. This was a recipe for a perfect horror story. Though my life had become one big horror story as it was. I had no phone signal, the GPS on my phone decided to stop working, the storm raged around me, and I just continued to drive into the woods of nowhere. I knew the plantation house was near, but enough time had passed by since I last visited with my father for the annual fourth of July celebration that was always hosted there, that I couldn’t one hundred percent remember my way in the backwoods of Georgia without some guidance. I remembered the plantation from when I was little pretty well. My father and mother had taken me to the house for large parties and BBQs. I remembered attending a couple of weddings there as well. But then it all stopped, and I had never thought to ask why.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something white sprint out onto the road and hit the right tire, or fender, or some part of the car. The slight bump, and then a crunching sound under the tire made it very clear that I had killed something. A rabbit? A raccoon? A deer—no not a deer—I would be dead by now if that was the case.

  I kept driving. It wasn’t like I had hit the creature. It had hit me… right? And besides, the crunching noise under the car made it very clear that whatever hit me was definitely road kill. And even if I did pull over, I had no signal to call for help, and I hadn’t seen a car in at least an hour, if not longer. I needed to get to my father before it was too late, and the longer I drove, the more I panicked. What if I was too late? What if I never found the plantation house?

  After a few more moments mourning the creature I hadn’t even really seen before it became road kill, I realized I could barely make out the lines on the road. The rain came down harder, and harder, and even harder if that was even possible. I had no choice but to pull over to the side of the road. Driving in these conditions was insane, no matter if my father’s life was at risk or not. When the car stopped, I pulled my shaking hands off the wheel and ran them through my hair, taking deep breaths to calm my panicky nerves.

  I had to be close. Some things I seemed to recognize, but it was too hard to tell for sure. Taking a moment to look around, I could barely make out the trees in very thick woods all around. I couldn’t just wait out this storm in the middle of nowhere. My father’s life was on the line, and even though I knew deep down I could be too late, and the
re was maybe nothing I could do, I had to try. I wasn’t going to just sit in the lake house, pretending to be on vacation while my father was about to be killed, as he and Alec wanted me to do. I put the car back into drive and headed out. I knew I was close to the mansion and would eventually recognize a street or landmark for sure if I just kept going. It became my chant.

  Keep going. Save Papa.

  Keep going. Save Papa.

  Mile after mile, I drove. The road seemed to go on with no end in sight. On and on I drove in pitch-blackness and torrential rain, praying that a deer wouldn’t jump out and total Alec’s car.

  Pulling over to the side of the road again, I grabbed my phone and hopped out of the car, grateful that the rain had paused long enough so that I could stand outside without getting drenched. Holding the phone in the air, I watched the screen for any sign of a signal as I walked around. I knew I had to be close. I just needed to get the name of the street. Anything.

  “Look what we got here,” a voice cut through the air from behind me. I spun around to see a car parked in the shadows off the road just as two strong arms grabbed me and wrestled me to the ground. How could I not have seen the car before? “It’s her. I recognize her face from the picture. Her daddy thought she wouldn’t come. Funny how we knew otherwise.”

  “At least we don’t have to sit here in the rain waiting for her to come anymore,” the second man added as they dragged me back toward their car. “This was the second day in a row we had to sit here, if I had to do it another day, I would lose my fucking mind.”

  A small sticker on the trunk of the vehicle of my captors told me that I had indeed found the plantation house—or that the house had found me. A decorative insignia with the lettering The Iron Colt Brotherhood written underneath was the last thing I saw before they had my hands tied together, and I was thrown into the back of the car.

  Fighting against the restraints, I closed my eyes as I took deep breaths.

  Calm.

  Remain calm.

  Clearly, they knew who I was. Who my father was.

  A few minutes passed before the car came to a stop. I looked out the window at the large mansion that I remembered from my youth and prepared myself for what was to come. I had no idea how, but I knew I had to stay calm and collected. Fear would only lead to mistakes. I wasn’t a little girl anymore. My papa wasn’t here to tuck me in at night and tell me all my nightmares would go away.

  No, my father could be dead.

  Maybe I would soon join him.

  The back door opened, and when the fresh air hit my face, it gave me a renewed strength. As the men yanked me out of the car, I gave it my all. Gyrating my body, screaming, biting, and scratching, I would do whatever I could to leave my mark on these men. I would make damn sure their DNA was all over me if in fact they decided to kill me. I was forced onto my back and straddled by one of my captors. A punch to the face finally stunned me into submission, and I had no choice but to succumb to whatever these men had in store for me as they pulled my stunned body back to standing.

  I struggled against the bonds that were around my wrists. The two men shoved me forward, causing me to stumble on the rocky path leading up to a large plantation house that I remembered from my childhood. I looked around, remembering that at one time this estate had provided wonderful memories. No way would I have known then that I would be standing here kidnapped and tied, fearing for my life and the life of my father.

  “Walk,” one of the men ordered, breaking me from my observations with a kick to my calf. “Don’t make me kick you the entire way.” He led me up the stairs to the porch and into the house.

  Several men came out from the rooms that lead to the large expansive foyer as I was kicked and shoved to the center area. All of the men were dressed in expensive suits, designer ties, and carried an aura of extreme wealth.

  “Please!” I called out. Hopefully, one of the now ten or so men gathering around would take pity on me. They couldn’t all be heartless bad guys, could they?

  “What treat have you brought us today?” a voice called out from my right. All heads turned to a man walking toward me. He approached until he stood inches from my face, so close that I could smell his thick cologne.

  I refused to look him in the eye as he stood before me, raking his eyes up and down my body as if attempting to see through my clothing. Maybe if I didn’t look at him, he would somehow let me go.

  “Where did you find her?”

  “By the entrance. She had been driving around on our land for a while. We think she was lost, but definitely searching for us.”

  I hated showing fear, but hiding the fact that I was terrified was impossible. My body shook, and my knees threatened to collapse at any minute. Tears filled my eyes, but I refused to cry. The man stopped examining my body to look around.

  He stared directly in my eyes and asked, “Makayla right?”

  “I want my father. Now!” I spat.

  He answered my demand with a venom-laced smile, and said, “Take sweet Makayla and lock her up with the others. We knew Daddy’s Girl would come. It was just a matter of time.” Several men laughed as they all turned and went back to whatever they were doing before my arrival.

  I was led to a room that had once served as either a billiards room or a large library, but I couldn’t remember. Everything about the inside of this house had changed from what I remembered as a child. It was now dark, haunting, evil even. This wasn’t the house it once was. The windows had bars on them and the one door of the entrance to where I was being led had several locks, as well as a man with an antique rifle sitting on a chair in front of it. The guard pulled out a ring of keys and began unlocking the door. Moments later, a near punch to the back shoved me into a dark room. It took my eyes several minutes to adjust to the darkness to make out what was around me. Huddled against the wall were five women, naked and chained like animals.

  “Take your clothes off,” the man who led me ordered. He unfastened my hands, tossing the binds to the floor.

  “I will not!” I screamed in retort.

  The man reached for his belt and pulled it free from the loops. He doubled it over in his palm. “I’ll beat you until you do.” The look in his eye, and the way he tested the belt by hitting it against his hand, told me he meant business.

  I had to be smart about this. Fighting wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I had to play along the best I could and do what they asked. Something in my gut told me that resistance would only give these men a reason to break me… and they would, and most likely enjoy every minute. Taking a deep breath, I lifted my t-shirt above my head.

  “Thata girl. Keep it coming, and I won’t have to whip that fine ass of yours.”

  I removed the rest of my clothes, trying not to pay attention to the man who looked as if he may very well cum in his pants just by watching me do so. I also didn’t look at the women in the corner, as if looking at the other kidnap victims made this nightmare all the more real. It wasn’t until he placed a heavy metal collar around my neck that I looked up from the ground. The man hooked a long chain to the collar, dragged me over to the other women, and secured the chain to a hook screwed into the floor.

  He then walked over to my clothes and picked them up, bringing my panties to his nose and taking a deep breath. “Mmm… a sweet one.”

  I wanted to attack and gouge the bastard’s eyes out, but the thick metal around my neck reminded me harshly that my mobility had been greatly compromised.

  “You ladies tell our new guest all the rules. If she gets a beating for breaking them, you all get a beating,” the man declared before turning around and leaving.

  I fingered the collar, staring at the women who had all remained silent the entire time the man was in the room.

  “Where are we?” I asked. “Who are these people?”

  “Shh! Don’t talk so loud,” one of the girls whispered. “If we get too loud, the guard will come in and do whatever his evil mind is in the mood for.”
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br />   “What do they want with us?” I asked, in a whisper this time. “Why are we chained naked to the floor?” If they planned on raping and killing me, why hadn’t they done so by now? Why were these women and I being held captive like slaves?

  “For the ritual,” was the simple answer from a tinier girl with her knees pulled up to her chin. She had bruises along her thighs, and I could see fingerprint marks on her upper arms. The busted lip she had still didn’t take away from her beauty, however.

  “Ritual?” I asked, taking in each of the women slowly.

  “Yes.”

  “Were you all kidnapped?” I asked, loud enough that several of the girls hushed me again.

  They all nodded. “In a way. Like you. We knew this would eventually happen. Our names were all drawn like yours was.”

  My head spun trying to make sense of and to absorb what was being said. I was thinking back to what Alec had said about the women used for the ritual being treated like animals. Sex slaves to be purchased by a member of the brotherhood. “Is this where we wait to be bought?” I asked.

  “We think so. We don’t know. We have all been told slightly different variations of what happens at these rituals,” one girl said sitting to the side of me.

  “This is crazy. We can’t just sit here like this and allow this,” I said.

  “If I were you—” the tiny, bruised girl spoke again, “—I would focus on trying to just survive this without harm. Trust me. There is no point in trying to resist. It will all be over soon enough. My daddy told me that once this was over, all our family’s financial woes would be over. That he would get the funding he needed for his business and this nightmare would be over. We are all here for reasons like this, and fighting the inevitable is just going to make it worse.”