“So, we’re going to Edinburgh for this ominous thing called The Offering? You’re not going to tell me anything else?”
He stops us, twisting me so that I’m facing him directly. There are no lights on this street, and the shadows of his face are pronounced against the darkened sky.
“I’m going to have to ask you to play the part one more time,” he says slowly. “The Offering is a small gathering of the European Directors of the Brotherhood. Edinburgh is our headquarters—that’s where Alistair Crownley lived.”
I nod, swallowing thickly. “And?”
He places a finger underneath my chin, looking at me with a kind of desperation that takes my breath away.
“I made you co-Director because I want you there with me when I take them all down, once and for all.”
I stop breathing completely, swishing his words around in my mind.
“I would love nothing more,” I breath, and Benedict cracks a devilish grin.
II
The Last Will and Testament of Benedict Martin
Benedict Martin
London,Present
I pace my flat, the metallic taste of the ink from the pen I’m chewing heady and potent. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, looking at the paperwork I’m holding.
The Last Will and Testament of Benedict Martin.
“She deserves to know the truth,” Hayes says from his place perched on my leather couch. “You deserve credit for your hard work,” he adds, chuckling darkly as he sips his whiskey.
“I’ll tell her,” I reply, looking at the paper. “I need to get everything in order first.”
“Are you scared of the risk?” he asks, cocking his head. “Is she making you second guess yourself?”
I pause, rolling his words around in my mind. “It was much easier to walk into this when I thought she hated me, I’ll say that.”When she thought I’d abandoned her.
“We can do this without you,” Hayes remarks slowly, examining his hands.
I shake my head. “No. You need me, and I want to do this. I—haveto do this.”
“All right, well, you can’t have it both ways, man.”
I sigh and look down, furrowing my brows together. I sign the will and stick it in the envelope for my solicitor to finalize. After I finish, I stand from my desk and stretch. I head to the bar cart and pour myself a large drink—a quick old-fashioned, no sugar, extra bitters. I sit on the other side of the sofa and take a large sip.
“Besides, no one has to die if it all goes according to plan,” Hayes continues, and I realize he’s been ruminating on it this whole time.
I laugh. “When have things ever gone according to plan?Youwere supposed to be Director of Blackfriars, after all.”
Hayes snorts and leans forward. “I can’t help my temper. I had no idea that he’d resort to doing the blood oath with you after our disagreement. I swear to god he did it to get back at me.”
I smile, remembering that night—remembering the ceremonies, and the whirlwind of sex, tongues, and bodies. Hayes was supposed to be appointed Director—that was our plan. Go undercover, weasel our way into the leadership positions, and then Hayes, the one with connections, would have unlimited access to everything. The Director at the time was an older man—Bran. He and Hayes clashed instantly and got into a heated argument one night. Bran resigned, and he requested the blood oath with me—though Hayes and I were both appointed Knights of the Brotherhood at the time. The cards were supposed to fall another way, and they didn’t.
“Does she have any idea how much time and energy you’ve spent doing all of this?” Hayes asks, wincing slightly as he sips his warm whiskey.
“No, but she’ll probably figure it out soon.” It’s true—we’ve been formulating our plan for nearly two years. Since the Brotherhood is so expansive, our plan for next weekend has to go perfectly. I look over at him. “Are you going to be okay next weekend?”
Hayes’s jaw ticks as he stares at the ground. He has one foot crossed over his leg, and it’s bobbing up and down quickly.
“I get to repay them for what they did. I’ll be more than okay,” he adds, giving me a wicked smile. “I am giddy just thinking about it.”
