Handing it back to me, he burrows into his own pocket and pulls out a replica.
“Check your bedside table,” he croaks.
I do, and find another invitation with coordinates and nothing else.
“We’re in?” I breathe. Flopping back on the bed, a ton weight releases from my shoulders. God slaps a hand at me, catching my arm and chest. “We’re in, brother.”
Sighing, a real smile tugs at my lips.
“By the way, some blonde chick answered the door in her underwear. I thought she was following me back to your room, but she went into your dad’s room.” God shudders.
Groaning, I crawl out the bed and hit the shower. I’m sick of my dad’s midlife crisis and have more important things to think about.
Wind howls through the trees, making them sound like ocean waves crashing against rock. A slither of moon shines through a break in the clouds illuminating the large brick wall standing at least twelve feet in the air, concealing the abandoned nunnery inside its concrete arms.
“You sure this is where they lead?” I ask God, snatching up the card with the directions.
“Makes sense to me. It’s creepy and has a secret society vibe for sure,” he says, swinging his legs out of the car and testing the iron gates.
“The driveway gates are locked, but the walkway gate is ajar.” He winks, lighting up his cell phone and holding it under his chin. “You scared?” he mocks.
Leaving the car parked under a canopy of trees across the street, I jog over to him and squeeze through the space left by the gate.
The grounds expand like black sand instead of grass under the cloak of night. About a quarter mile from where we entered is a tall, church-like building veiled in darkness, all except a lit candle flickering from the open entrance door.
“It’s so cloak and dagger,” God says, almost laughing.
This isn’t a joke to me. He doesn’t need The Elite and can take it or leave it, but I need them.
The huge, wooden door creaks under the strain and echoes through the stone corridors that greet us inside. The stone floors carry our movements, making our presence known as we descend farther inside.
We come to a circular room lit with more candles. A silhouette shadow of a male creeps up the wall like a phantom, making me search the room for the owner.
A broad figure steps out from a pillar, wide and tall, short black hair, and hard steel eyes making us out through the threshold of the space between us.
“Hey.” He lifts his chin in our direction. I recognize him from Lillian’s waiting area. He sees her too.
Before I have time to dwell on it, more footsteps sound from the doorway and two more males join us. I recognize one of them from campus and the other from the club last night.
There’s a weighted anticipation in the air, sending a warm thrill of nervous energy coursing through my veins.
“So, do we wait here or…?” one of the guys asks while looking around the room and folding his arms over his chest. They’re both athletically built like God and me.
“I’ve been through the entire place. This is the only room lit up, and I found this,” the broad guy with the goatee says, holding up a scroll type thing and pointing to a pew against the wall.
“It was on there.” He nods his head.
“What does it say?” God asks, pulling out his cell phone turning on the flashlight, using it to search the darker parts of the room.
The place is empty. Leaves and debris litter the floor, and some graffiti has been written on the stonewalls.
“It says we have to wait for all seven of us to be here.”
An awkward silence fills the room for a few seconds, until another two males join us, looking windblown and nervous. Shaggy hair hangs in one guy’s green eyes. They’re freaky, like fucking jewels. The other is well put-together, his hair standing up on end from his scalp.
“Hey,” they say, coming into the room.
God moves his finger to each person in the room, counting us, then grins. “That’s seven.”
The big dude stands before us and unravels the scroll. It’s a little gimmicky, but most fraternities have stupid initiations, so this is tame compared to the horror stories that come out of most campuses—and this was no sorority.
Clearing his throat, the big dude reads out, “If you stand in this room, you are witness to the chosen seven candidates. The Elite Seven.” He looks up to survey his audience before continuing. “Pride. Wrath. Lust. Sloth. Gluttony. Greed. Envy.”
“Do we get to choose? Because I can see me being prideful.” God winks at me.
I nudge him with a, “Shhh,” under my breath and continue to listen to what’s being said.
“The Elite is made up of the best our school has to offer, and you have the honor of proving yourself worthy.”
The guy to my left clasps his hands together and rubs them.
“Your oath to the society will be given in action. You will perform assignments to show your obedience and dedication to The Elite. In return, you will be welcomed into a society rich, not just in wealth, but in status, influence, opportunity. You’ve been chosen as the crème le de crème of St. Augustine, and you will be joining the ranks of the most powerful and influential members of society.”
The man flexes his jaw, and there’s a spark in his eyes as he looks over us again. He’s excited, just like I am. We need this.
“Above all things, we pride ourselves on candidates that will prosper long after school ends. The Elite is for life. It will become part of you. Keeping the society’s secret is of utmost importance, and any indiscretion will be punishable by the full force of the society.”
Taking a breath, he straightens his shoulders. “Our power is unimaginable and all that is given can be stripped away should you break your oaths.”
A tense pull in the air thickens and pulses. That’s a threat if I ever heard one.
“Your initiation begins with the bonding of seven. The men in this room are your brothers. The brotherhood of the seven is unbendable. You are no longer one person, you are seven.”
A low whistle from the green-eyed dude punctures the air, his messy hair windswept over his head.
“I always wanted brothers.” He grins, and there’s something wild and untamed within it.
Ignoring his statement, the big dude continues.
“To be chosen for The Elite is of the highest honor, and for this reason, Pride is always chosen as the conduit between the initiating members and The Elite.”
“Me,” God lifts his chin on a whisper.
“Pride leads the seven. Prove yourselves worthy of full initiation, and you’ll be welcomed into the best society the world has to offer. Your given sin reflects your abilities and personality in life, so shall it be in sin.”
Blowing out a breath of anticipated air, he puts us out of the misery of suspense.
“Mason Blackwell, Pride.” He looks up and gestures a hand to his chest. “That’s me.”
God’s posture turns rigid.
“Samuel Gunner, Wrath,” he reads out next, and the guy with the perfect hair steps forward.
“Rhett Masters…” Thud. “Lust.”
Lust. Of course I’m lust. I hold a hand up to let the others know I’m Rhett.
“They don’t call him Romeo for nothing,” God snorts.
“Rush Dempsey, Sloth.” Slouching against the back wall, one of the two who first arrived steps forward, no emotion showing on his features.
“Micah Dixon, Greed.” A shoulder shrug, followed by, “I’m insatiable, what can I say?”
“Sebastian Westbrook, Envy.” The guy with the feral air about him narrows his eyes on Pride, then laughs before wrapping an arm around my shoulders like we’re old friends.
“I do envy you. Lust, huh? Nice,” he leans in and growls in a playful manner.
“Baxter Samuel Goddard the Fifth, Gluttony.”
Gluttony for God? He does love everything in excess. I study him for a reaction, but his features are unreadable, and then Pride continues talking, distracting me.
“Good luck, and may your sins be worthy.”
I’m fucking pumped. This is everything I wanted.
“There’s a card,” Pride announces, holding up an invitation type card like the ones we’ve been receiving.
God takes the three strides to Pride, and plucks it from his hand, opening it up.
“To bond your brotherhood, you will indulge in the sins of the body, in Lust.”
He grins, waving the thing like a fan. Grabbing God’s wrist to halt his movements, Pride takes back the card and scans his eyes over it. “There’s an address. Let’s go.”
Silence fills the car as God swerves from lane to lane, watching in his rear-view mirror for Wrath and Envy to catch up. His pupils are the size of pinpricks, and his hand taps against the wheel incessantly.
“You feeling all right?”
His head snaps between me and the road as he nods, then laughs.
“Yeah, why?”
“You just seem more jittery than usual.”
He sniffs, then shakes his head. “I just wanted to get a work out in before we did the party scene.”
God is a gym freak. We both stay fit, but he took working out to a new level and had the body to prove it. He was like carved marble.
“I’m sure you’ll get some working out in tonight.” I waggle my brows, and it gains me a knowing smile.
The house we pull up to is gated, a plantation home like God’s, only not as big.
A security guard meets us at the entry, his bulky frame taking up the entire driver’s side window. He taps his knuckles on the glass, and I lower the window.
“Tattoo or coin?” he asks.
Patting down my pockets, I rummage and pull out the coin I woke up with after the night at the club. God flicks open a tray built into the dash hidden from view. We both hold them up, and the guy takes them, inspecting their authenticity. Satisfied, he hands them back, then nods for us to go ahead.
The gates open to a short driveway leading to the impressive house. White pillars stand proud around the entire property, a grand balcony wrapping around the entire upper floor.