Page 103 of Bloodstone
“If the work you do is so important, how can you guarantee that the members won’t let slip anything about this place?” I wonder instead, hoping he can explain the blood oath to me in a way that’s not completely unfathomable.
Ansaldo’s dark eyes bore into mine. “I thought you’d never ask.”
He gestures toward the base of the tree. There, the root juts out oddly into a sort of hollowed-out circular shape.Almost like a bowl.
“In this basin, formed from the Tree of Life itself, each initiate sacrifices their blood to guarantee the safety of the Order of Cavendi. The members whose purpose keeps them here only require one drop. It ties up the tongue and petrifies the body before any whole truths can be spoken to or acted on, in case this place were ever discovered.”
Sure, it does.
“For those out in the field,” he continues, “a second drop allows the person to speak a single word aloud, which will kill them instantly. This is for our more covert initiates, who are more likely to be tortured if captured.”
My breath catches in my throat.Either way, they die for their cause.
“And what word is that?”
Ansaldo cracks a small smile. “Yes, very much like your nonna. She was feisty too, and crafty.”
“How do you expect me to believe any of this?” I ask. “You have to know how absolutely insane you sound.”
I glance at Bes and Cec, but neither of them say a word, their gazes downcast.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I raise a brow at Ansaldo. “Fine. Prove it.”
Bes’s gaze snaps to me out of the corner of my eye. “Miss Hawkins…”
Ansaldo smiles devilishly. “As you like.” He beckons me forward. “Kneel before the basin.”
I blink rapidly at him. “I’m not doing that.”
He shakes his head. “I understand it’s difficult to trust all I’ve told you. However, you asked for proof. And, with Bes and Cecilio as my witnesses, I won’t harm you.”
I don’t trust a single word out of his mouth.He expects me to believe blood-triggered magic exists and that trying to prove that to me won’t hurt me? The man needs help.
Although… I am more than curious. Because, if what Ansaldo says is true, then everything I know about the world I’ve lived in all my life is a lie. It’s one thing to feel the Amulet of Amun—currently tucked beneath my shirt and out of sight—warm against my chest and see the red flecks move beneath its surface. It’s another thing completely to believe an entire organization is built upon blood oaths and tattoo magic. If he’s proven right here and now, then magic, in some form, is real.
And wouldn’t that be something.
“Fine,” I concede, almost giddy at the prospect.Something’s truly wrong with me.
“You can’t be serious,” Bes argues.
Cec remains strangely quiet.
I turn to Bes, finding his expression aghast. “I’m a scientist, Bes; I require proof. And if Ansaldo claims he can give it to me, then I need to see it through.”
He shakes his head. “You’re mad—completely and utterly mad.”
Instead of responding, I kneel before the basin, the stone floor biting into my knees through my pants. Small, gnarled roots protruding from the trunk form the bowl-like shape. The slight indent remains unmarred despite Ansaldo’s claim that many order members over hundreds if not thousands of years have shed blood on this tree. Ansaldo takes his place beside me, and draws the dagger from his hip. No wonder he brought it with him; he must’ve known I’d want proof. Something Nonna likely told him.
Once I verify blood oaths aren’t real, I’m asking him about her.
He holds out his hand for mine, and I reluctantly give it to him.
Poising the dagger at my pinky finger, he says, “Remember, only one drop.”
Without waiting for a response, he pricks my finger with the sharpened tip. I hiss at the pain, from the sudden fire ragingthrough my veins. But my attention is drawn away from it as the amulet against my chest grows impossibly hot. I close my eyes at the sensation and open them to find pulsing colors blooming around Ansaldo, of all things.
Before I can parse out what’s happening, though, it disappears.
