See No Evil

Unfortunately for all of us, Linc’s expression continues to be steadfast, bringing an uneasy chill to creep up my bones.

“Why? Why are you asking about The Society?” Colt queries u

“Because I think we just got our recruitment papers,” Lincoln proclaims, throwing an envelope that was tucked in his back pocket onto the bed.

All four of us look silently at the black envelope, sitting neatly on the mattress between Easton and me as if it were a bomb ready to explode.

“What the fuck is this?” Easton questions as he bravely picks it up, while I try to scoot my body as far as I can away from the cursed thing without dropping off the bed entirely.

As East examines the envelope, back and front, the first thing I notice is the unusual, red seal attached to the black paper. I can’t make out the design for sure, but if I had to guess, it looks like some sort of elaborate pentagram. The other thing that immediately captures my attention is how the seal has been broken, hinting that Lincoln already knows the contents of the envelope.

“Read it,” Lincoln orders coldly, and Colt, looking a little bit worse for wear, takes the necessary steps to join us on the bed so he can assess the contents with his own eyes.

Easton takes one more look at our troubled friend, who continues to keep his distance from the wretched thing. Linc’s vigilantly cautious demeanor is so unlike him, it even has Easton opening the envelope with care, worried it might contain a tripwire that could go off with the slightest miscalculated touch. Ever so carefully, East pulls out a folded, black stationery paper from the wax-sealed envelope. As he unfolds it, I catch a glimpse of gold lettering and the same familiar, red seal stamped at the bottom of the page.

Easton clears his throat before starting to read each word out loud. As his voice begins to crack with each sentence, so does my spirit. My mouth runs dry, and the fist that has been clutching my heart since this horrific nightmare began gives it another infernal squeeze, letting me know the worst is yet to come.

“This has got to be some sort of macabre joke,” Colt chokes out, ripping the letter from Easton’s trembling hands so he can have a read through of his own.

“I don’t find it particularly fu

I’ve never been one to keep still when shit hits the fan. My body’s default mechanism is always to keep moving, so my mind can take its time to process the information to avoid a full meltdown. And right now, my feet can’t keep up with all the wheels turning in my head.

“It’s not a joke. Whoever sent this letter knows what happened that night,” Easton adds, his face stoic and unfeeling, already coming to terms with the notion that, somehow, someone out there knows what happened in this house last spring.

“That’s absurd. We were the only ones here! How could anyone have found out?” Colt tries to reason, but when he starts grabbing at the ends of his hair, showing his aggravation, it’s a telltale sign he’s no longer as certain that this so-called society is nothing but an old wives’ tale. “Linc, when did you get this?” Colt interrogates, clutching the envelope in his grip, and rereading each damning word for the third time.

“Last night. Right before I texted all of you.”

Colt nods on autopilot, while his green eyes scrutinize every sentence as if he’ll find some missed clue as to who sent it.

“Okay. I don’t want any of us doing something stupid. This,” Colt says after a long silent pause, holding up the evil paper in his hands, “could just be someone fucking with us. No one knows shit. As long as we keep our mouths shut and pretend everything is fine, nothing will come from this.”

“You sure about that, Colt? What if whoever is behind this letter sends another one and doesn’t like the fact that we haven’t followed their instructions? You sure you’re okay with everyone finding out what we’ve done, especially from someone who might not be as forgiving with the details of that night?”

“No one will find out, Easton!” Colt yells, demonstrating how rattled he is.

I swallow dryly as I watch my two best friends butt heads. I dread that the collision of the fire and ice coursing through their veins could be worse than whatever The Society might have pla

“Hey, assholes! This is not the time for you two to start your shit. We’ve got bigger fish to fry,” I chastise, bringing the two hotheads to heal.

It feels unfamiliar that I am the voice of reason. Usually, this type of stuff is Lincoln’s area of expertise. He’s always been the glue that kept our band of brothers together. The one friend we could count on who would pacify our tempers, keep us sane through our messed-up lives. However Linc’s mind is miles away, not even registering that his two best friends are ready to go at each other’s throats because of the unknown threat that may, or may not, be headed our way.

“Linc, this is your show, man. Whatever you want us to do, we’re behind you one hundred percent. It’s your call. How do you want to play this?” I add insistently, hoping that my plea is enough to slice through his apathetic state.

All our eyes fall on the friend who has more to lose than the rest of us combined, praying that his head is cool enough to get us out of this mess.

Again.

“For the time being, we can’t do much but wait,” he states pensively.

“Wait?” I exclaim flabbergasted, not liking that plan at all. “I’d rather we find these fuckers and punch some sense into them. They have no idea who they are fucking with.”

Fuck waiting. I’m more of an offense kind of guy. Show me the target, and I’m like a bull in the ring. Waiting for the shoe to drop is why I’ve been a fucking mess lately. I’d rather do something than sit on my ass, waiting for the next shitstorm to implode.

“I think they do, Fi

Lincoln’s ocean-blue eyes resemble a storm of ungodly retribution. Looking at his demeanor, I’m no longer fearful of the person who believes himself to be the puppet master but troubled by the man who actually is. How far is Lincoln willing to go to keep our secret intact? From where I’m standing, his haughty glower screams that nothing is off the table.

“If this society is legit, then we can assume they outnumber us,” Lincoln continues sternly. “Which means they might have enough power to back up their threat. I say we play it by ear. See what they ask, and on the back end, we investigate everything on The Society. We’ll have to discover who they are and what dirty little secrets they have. We all know everyone has a skeleton or two hidden in their closet. We find out theirs, and then we’ll try to come to a compromise, exchanging their dirty little secret for ours.”

“And what if that doesn’t work? What if we can’t even find out who is behind this, let alone what shit they’ve done in the past? Or let’s say we do. Let’s say we get the names of every last fucker in The Society, and we tell them we got dirt on them, too. What’s to stop them from coming after us anyway?” Easton asks, concerned that Lincoln’s plan may not hold water to it.