Deceit (Gallows Hill #1)

46. Chapter Forty Five

Chapter Forty Five

Ronan

I ’d much rather be at the carnival with Skyla, or in bed with Skyla. Really anything to do with Skyla, than where I am right now. Instead, I’m in my brother’s home, our childhood home, in his office.

I hate coming here. It’s filled with more horrors than any home should ever possess. The things these walls have witnessed are nothing short of undiluted evil. Growing up I swore I would never carry on the dark habits of our family’s Legacy. Christopher, though? He always had it in him, dare I say, he may even rival our father.

“How were the boys in your opinion? Who needed the most guidance? Who took charge? I need more details than this piss-poor excuse of a report,” he snaps, slapping down the folder I gave him after Asher and Liam had handled their assignment, with my assistance.

I hate having to get into details. The truth is, if he knew how hard of a time Liam had with everything before, during and after, he’d kill him without hesitation. There is no room for weak men in the Brethren, let alone in the Elders. Don’t get me wrong, I really like Liam, he’s a good guy but…he doesn’t have what it takes. Not on the level he’ll be expected to perform.

Despite him being a good kid, my girl loves him and there is no way I’m risking her going through that kind of heartache. So I lie, easily, casually, and with all the right words to satiate my blood thirsty brother.

“They did well for their first time, they clearly need more practice. Something we already knew,” I say, with an exaggerated eye roll. “Asher most definitely took charge, not that I’m surprised. Liam has followed in his shadow his whole life. It was all too predictable that the same dynamic would apply in the field.”

Christopher watches me carefully, as if he were trying to discern if I’m lying or hiding anything from him. Shit, at this point, what am I not lying about or hiding from him?

“Do you think he should be removed?” Christopher asks, with a tilt of his head.

I don’t answer immediately, showing I’m giving this idea some real thought before I look at him and fold my arms over my chest.

“I think it’s too early to say. I’d need to see more, maybe him without Asher and forced to take the lead. He has potential, and as the Walcott’s only heir, I think it would be in the Brethren’s best interest to see if he can prove himself.”

Christopher thinks over my words carefully before nodding.

“I agree. I’ll have something arranged for him shortly after the ceremony. You’ll oversee him,” he says, making it clear that if I had any protests, they’re a moot point. This is non-negotiable.

This may be a mis-step, but I can’t resist the door he has unknowingly cracked open for me.

Gesturing to the black leather bound book with the sacred B crest stamped onto the front, I ask, “Why are we having the ceremony moved up, brother? It breaks tradition. You of all people are dedicated to upholding all traditions and laws that are written there.”

It was our ancestors’ journal, Thomas Putnam. The man who founded it all. The creator of the Brethren and more famously known as ‘the father of Ann Putnam’ one of the largest accusers from the trials. Because of her mouth, Thomas’s hands and the help of the Parris family, over sixty people were accused and tried. A fact that Thomas brags about often throughout the journal.

My brother places a possessive hand on the journal, his and the Brethren’s most sacred possession.

“I do what I do, because I must.”

“For what purpose?” I push. “On Hallows Eve of all nights?”

To my surprise, he doesn’t snap into a blinding rage. Instead, his eyes trace around the room, verifying it’s empty before continuing.

“There are rumors of an attack that night– on the girl. It is believed they will harness enough power to not only harm the girl, but all of us, all at once.”

I remain unblinking as I stare at him. We’ve all grown up with the legends, the stories. Of how the Brethren was formed as a way of protection from the witches they didn’t catch, the ones who remained hidden and the descendants of the ones who were executed. I’m open minded to the idea of them and their descendants being capable of witchcraft of sorts, though I don’t think I believe in it as wholly as my brother or the other Elders.

My mind cannot fathom a group of people practicing black magic, just to continuously attack and torture a group of descendants from an event that occurred more than three-hundred-years-ago. Maybe I’m wrong, but maybe I’m not. Maybe this is one giant game of the trials yet again, with two sides of the same coin fighting against one another for centuries. It’s no longer hunting witches down, and hanging them from the gallows. Now it’s forcing their businesses to collapse, their inheritance ruined and a handful of them thrown in jail or ‘mysteriously’ disappearing.

The same could be said for them, I suppose. We have lost many members over the years, even members of several Elder families. I suppose my brother has some merit for being overly cautious. The hate is very clear on both sides. I just wonder, if either truly knows what they’re fighting over in this day and age.

Regardless of my skepticism, the idea of an attack on Skyla turns my stomach. Though only slightly more than the idea of her going through the archaic and revolting ceremony. With this new information in mind, I know there is no way to stop it. No way to save her, and I fucking hate myself for not being able to act sooner.

“Have you informed Asher of what the night will require of him?” I ask.

Christopher shakes his head.

“I can hardly stand the sight of that boy,” he sneers. “You will apprise him of his responsibilities. The girl as well, only what she needs to know.”

I nod solemnly as I receive a dismissive gesture from my brother. Happily standing up and getting the hell away from this house, I almost make it to the door before he calls out.

“I’m trusting you with this brother. Should either act out of turn, I will know who to blame,” he says, his threat clear, intent known.

Nodding my agreement, I step all the way through the doorway before I’m making my way to my car.

Fuck me.

I head straight to campus, feeling the need to rip the band aid off. Though I know it’s going to fucking suck. When I get to the Parris dorm, I find Asher in the hallway, sitting on the floor with his arms braced on his knees and his head against the wall. He doesn’t see me because his eyes are on the ceiling and I’m about to ask him what he’s doing, when understanding hits me.

“Liam!” Skyla practically screams out, followed by a loud smack and another moan.

Asher’s eyes shutter, closed so tightly it looks like he’s in pain. Poor fucking bastard. He’s so gone for her, and he won’t even admit it to himself. Not that I’m sure he’d even have a chance if he did. He’s treated her like shit and Skyla isn’t just going to forget of all that. In the same breath though, they’ve been getting along a lot better lately, spending more time together. Maybe he would have a chance.

It would be a little odd for me to be sharing my girlfriend with my nephew…I just want to see her happy though, him too. What kind of man does that make me, that I’m fine with sharing her with the whole fucking school if that’s what she needs? As long as she won’t stop loving me. A lucky one I’d say, because I still hold her heart and she holds mine.

“Hey,” I say, as I come to stand in front of Asher.

His eyes pop open as he looks at me, standing up to his feet.

“Hey.”

My head gestures to the door.

“Liam?”

“And Griggs,” he hmphs.

“Why aren’t you in there?” I test.

He scoffs like that’s a crazy idea before he scrambles a little, picking up a takeout bag.

“She was hungry, and delivery was gonna take too long, so I ran out for a bit.”

“That was nice of you,” I say.

Asher shrugs. “Except when I got back they were all…busy.”

I nod my understanding, staying quiet for a few moments.

“How was the carnival?”

He huffs out a short laugh and shakes his head.

“Lame and crowded.”

“Did Skyla have a good time?” I ask, watching with intrigue as his eyes dilate slightly when I say her name.

Interesting.

“Yeah,” he nods coolly, though he’s already given himself away.

“Good.”

“You gonna go in there too?” Asher asks, a hint of bitterness to his voice.

For a moment I contemplate it, but another pleasure filled moan sounds through the door and I’m suddenly second guessing it. She’s having a good night, a great one from the sounds of it. I’m not going to ruin it with heavy shit like this.

I look at Asher, wondering if I should tell him before I think better of it. He’s not going to like this anymore than she will, none of us will, honestly. So I’ll let them have a little longer, I’ll wait until it’s absolutely necessary.

“Nah, I just wanted to check on her. I’ll see her tomorrow. You staying?” I ask with a curious brow.

He shrugs, leaning against the wall with his foot kicked up on it, like he’s more than happy hanging out in the hallway.

“Yeah, gotta get the princess her food when she’s done,” he says, rolling his eyes in irritation that I feel is only partially authentic.

I nod, clapping his shoulder as I turn on my heels and head home. I’m not sure how I’ll be able to look my baby in the eye until that conversation comes. This is so fucked.