20
TAKING THE BRAND
LORENZO
The mood around the bonfire is somber, serious. The branding iron is in the coals, glowing a bright, vivid orange-red.
We stand in a wide, uneven circle around the bonfire, which rages and flickers a good ten feet high—courtesy of Kane. Everyone is holding hands with the person on either side of them—only Scarlett stands alone, inside the circle, facing Sophia.
"Scarlett Gutierrez," Sophia starts.
Scarlett holds up a hand, and Sophia stops. "I…" she sighs, and starts over. "I have considered this long and hard over the last few weeks." She looks hard at Sophia. “I’ve watched you. You have chosen to leave your alter ego behind—we all call you Sophia, now, instead of Inez. I…I think it's time for me to leave Scarlett Gutierrez behind, and this seems to be the best time, the best place, and the best way to do so. When you brand me, I'm choosing to go by the name I was born with—Maria Consuela Rodriguez."
Solomon looks on with pride, beaming at her. Grinning ear to ear, as a matter of fact.
"Maria Consuela Rodriguez, then," Sophia says, starting over. "Today, you take the first step in a journey. You are leaving behind all that came before. We do not forget the past—we can't, and we should not, as you told me just a few minutes ago. But the past must remain in the past. We cannot carry it with us everywhere. We can't cling to it. Scarlett is your past. The Maria who was—she is your past, as well. In taking this brand, you choose to put everything you used to be behind you and choose to belong to this very exclusive club. We are your brothers. We are your sisters. We are your mother. We are your father. You belong to us, and we belong to you. The brand…" here, she wiggles her right hand into a thick, heat-resistant glove and pulls the iron out of the fire, "seals your membership into this family. No matter where you go or what you do, you belong to us. It is irrevocable. Permanent."
Scarlett—Maria, I should say—peels out of her black T-shirt, standing before Sophia in a pair of black jeans and a dark green bra. "I am ready."
"Maria," Sophia says, holding Maria's left wrist with her arm turned out and extended so the inside of her bicep faces forward. "Repeat after me: "In choosing this brand, I swear to never take another human life, and I swear my undying loyalty to my brothers and sisters in the Order of the Broken Arrows."
Taking a deep, bracing breath, Maria repeats the oath in a slow, solemn tone. When she gets to the words "I swear my undying loyalty," Sophia gently, quickly, and firmly presses the orange-glowing brand to the inside of her bicep.
A hissing sound erupts from her skin, along with the unmistakable scent of scorched flesh. She screams through gritted teeth, head flung back, eyes squeezed shut. Removing the branding iron, Sophia shoves it back into the coals without letting go of Maria's wrist.
With a broad smile, she turns to Maria and pulls her into a hug, careful to avoid contact with the fresh brand. "Welcome to The Broken Arrows, Maria Rodriguez."
Cheers rise from the gathered circle, loudest of all from Solomon, who breaks from the circle to pull her into his arms. He hugs her tightly for a long time, while she, somewhat awkwardly, hugs him back one-armed, holding the other out and away. Eventually, he lets her go. Takes a half step backward.
Shoves a hand into his pocket.
Drops to one knee in front of Maria, who claps her right hand over her mouth.
"Scar—Maria…" he grins, laughs, shakes his head. "Gonna take me a second to get used to that." He kisses her knuckles and then starts over. "Maria, I love you. I can't picture my life without you in it. I've been thinking about doing this for a while now, and this seems to be the best moment." He holds up the ring he took from his pocket. "This was my great-grandmother's. She and my great-grandfather were married for sixty-two years. Before I left for Harvard, my mother gave it to me. Told me that if I ever met someone I loved enough to marry, that I should give her this. So, here it is. Maria, will you marry me?"
Nodding, she drops to her knees and cups his face, kisses him. "Yes, Solomon. A thousand times yes." She shows him her left hand, and he slides the ring on. "Holy shit, it fits?"
Solomon laughs. "I didn't think it would. I was assuming we'd have to get it sized."
The cheers erupt louder than ever, and everyone surrounds the couple, slapping Solomon's back, hugging Maria, congratulating both of them.
I meet Sophia's eyes from across the scrum—she looks happy, but perhaps a little wistful.
Until Solomon pops up from the center of the crowded huddle and reaches for her. "Get in here, you." He shoots me a look. "You too, Ren."
We close in, and the group condenses, pulling us into the chaotic huddle.
I'm the first to pull away. "So, it's my turn, now."
Sophia blinks at me in surprise. "You too?"
I nod, shrugging. "Of course. Did you think I would not? I may not choose to work within the club, but I do wish to take the brand."
Taking a deep breath and nodding on the exhale, she steps back to her place near the iron, close enough to the massive bonfire that the heat billows her loose hair.
The circle reforms with me on the inside with Sophia. She repeats the speech she gave to Maria, albeit a bit condensed and not precisely word for word. Her eyes are misty and her voice is shaky as she asks me to repeat the vow—which I do, loudly, clearly, proudly.
The pain when the iron hits my flesh is unbelievable—a deep, searing sensation so intense it almost feels like intense cold. I clench my molars so hard the ache in my jaw registers through the pain in my arm, and then the iron is gone and the pain subsides to a dull, throbbing burning ache.
