The Bonding Ritual (Girls Wearing Black: Book Four) Read online

  THE BONDING RITUAL

  Girls Wearing Black, Book 4

  by Spencer Baum

  Copyright 2014

  www.spencerbaum.net

  Table of Contents

  THE BONDING RITUAL

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  The winter sun fought its way through the window blinds. Kim Renwick turned away from it, but still the light came for her, relentless in its demand that she wake up.

  It angered Kim that her body woke with the sun. How desperately she wanted the opposite, to be a creature who woke at dusk and thrived in the night. How many years had she been absolutely certain that immortality was her destiny, that her human form was merely a larval state, and that in the spring of her eighteenth year she would undergo a metamorphosis that would allow her to emerge from her human shell, reborn as a creature of the night?

  Even when things started going sour at the Masquerade she didn’t doubt her destiny. Even when the new girl outperformed her at the Date Auction and she learned that Jill Wentworth had been plotting for years to steal her birthright and give it to someone else—even then she believed in her heart that she would right the ship quickly and regain her place atop the Coronation rankings.

  Through the final months of fall semester, when Nicky Bloom was taken for the Rose Ransom, Kim regained her swagger. She became certain that it wasn’t just fate that wanted her to win, but the clan itself. Why else would Renata kidnap Kim’s strongest competitor and make the clues to her whereabouts so difficult to solve?

  She had been standing in Renata’s mansion, watching the clock inch towards midnight, feeling triumphant, when everything went to hell. Jill solved the clue at the final second. Jill revealed Nicky and Ryan’s hiding place in the nick of time. Jill won the hundred million dollar ransom…

  And gave it all to Samantha Kwan?

  That last part was so unexpected, so mindboggling, that it made Kim doubt everything she thought she knew. Jill wasn’t just a few steps ahead of Kim; she was running an entirely different race. The Renwick war machine had been in full swing for more than ten years, supposedly clearing a path for Kim to march to victory unopposed, but Jill found a way to sneak past it.

  Jill found a way to aim the war machine at the wrong target until it was too late.

  What a brilliant plan! What a devious, audacious, downright evil plan, and Jill had executed it perfectly! All this time the Renwicks thought that Samantha Kwan was nothing. They had allowed her in the contest because Kim needed someone to defeat, and who better than meager little Samantha, whose parents were worth a paltry twenty million dollars?

  Kim, Mary, and Samantha. That had been the plan for years. They all knew it was coming and they all assumed that the Kwan family was okay with their daughter crawling into a cage at prom so a newly immortal Kim could drink her dry. Kim’s father had spoken openly with the Kwan family about it, and heard Samantha’s parents talk about the prestige of wearing black to Homecoming, about the honor of a good death, about how the girl who loses Coronation achieves her own form of immortality.

  Jill Wentworth and Samantha Kwan had played them like fools. While the Renwicks and everyone else were distracted with Nicky Bloom, Samantha hid quietly in the background, until Jill gave her a hundred million dollar donation, a donation that gave her a commanding lead with only a few months to go.

  It was over. Kim knew it, the rest of school knew it, the big money donors in DC knew it, and the clan knew it. With a lead so large, Samantha would have everyone lining up on her doorstep. That was how Coronation worked. Once DC had a feel for who was going to win, it was already over. Everyone wanted the favor of the new immortal. If people thought you were going to win, they gave you money, and you did.

  The sun was burning at full blast now, its light pressing on the cracks between the blinds and making the curtains glow. There was no point in fighting it anymore. This was going to be Kim’s life. Wake with the sun, eat a boring assortment of plants and animals, grow old, and die.

  She got out of bed and went downstairs. Her father was waiting for her.

  “Hi Daddy,” she said.

  He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at her. She wanted to snap at him to wipe that look off his face and say something godammit, but she kept her mouth shut. This too would be part of her new reality. The promise of immortality had given her power over everyone, even her parents. Now she would have to mind them like a good daughter, lest they take away her fully revocable trust fund.

  “What happened last night?” he said.

  “Why do you even ask?” said Kim. “I can tell by the way you’re looking at me that you already know.”

  “Yes, I suppose I do.”

  “How bad is it? Is everyone in town talking about it?”

  “Of course they are.”

  “God, Daddy, it’s barely eight in the morning. Do we have to do this now?”

  He looked at her, the way she had seen him look at many others. Galen Renwick, Washington’s most feared dirt digger, was giving his own daughter the look he gave to his enemies.

  “Just let me get something to eat, then I’ll tell you everything,” said Kim.

  Kim’s version of everything began with Jill Wentworth rushing through Renata’s front door just before midnight, and ended with the Ransom money landing in Samantha’s Coronation account. She told the story to her father. Every painful detail. When she was finished, her father said, “You know what this means, don’t you?”

  “It means I’m not going to win.”

  “It means you’re in third place. Third out of four. It means if one of the games this spring doesn’t go your way--”

  “Oh God, Daddy, don’t say it.”

  “Denying the truth doesn’t make it any less true. We are surrounded by sharks and your blood is in the water. Samantha is going to win Coronation, that much is already decided, so now your classmates will turn their attention to who is going to lose. Who do you think they would rather see in that cage on prom night? Nicky Bloom, Mary Torrance, or you?”

  No words passed between them for over a minute, and Kim felt like she might go insane in the silence. Her father was right. Her classmates hated her. They hated how she had lorded over them for years, how she and her daddy used i
nnuendo and blackmail to bully them all into submission.

  They would love to see her go down in flames.

  “Get dressed,” Galen said. “I want to take you somewhere.”

  ‘Somewhere’ turned out to be the Thorndike campus, which, on the first Sunday of winter break, was silent. They parked in the sophomore lot and walked through the courtyard to South Campus.

  The oldest part of the school, South Campus was largely a relic of the old, pre-Daciana Thorndike. Small brick buildings made in the Federal architectural style, arranged in rows rather than around courtyards like on the main campus, the southern block of Thorndike Academy housed administrative buildings, a teacher’s lounge, the old gymnasium, and half a dozen small structures of widely varying purpose.

  One of those structures was a two-bedroom house surrounded by a white picket fence. Standing alone on the edge of South Campus, this quaint abode was a place Kim had never visited before.

  “Daddy, you’re not taking me to the Purgatory House, are you?”

  Galen said nothing, but put his hand on Kim’s back, gently pushing her forward.

  “Oh God,” she whispered. “I don’t think I can.”

  “You can and you will,” Galen said. “I’ve made arrangements with Edith to open it up early today so you can have a private visit. It’s for your own good.”

  “No, Daddy,” she wailed, her eyes filling with tears. She was trying to pull away, but Galen grabbed onto her wrist. “No, Daddy! No!”

  He yanked her close to him so her face was right up next to his.

  “Your arrogance has made you lazy and cost our family a spot in the clan!” he snapped at her. “The contest has gone awry because you lacked the humility of a girl whose life was on the line. I guarantee you Samantha Kwan didn’t make the same mistake. You will come with me now and face what’s in store for you if you don’t get your act together!”

  “You monster!” Kim cried. “It was your job to vet my opponents! This is your fault and now you’re blaming it on me!”

  “You don’t get to talk to me like that anymore!” Galen roared. “After last night, you are nothing, Kim Renwick! Do you understand? You are no different than every other spoiled rich brat in this town. Do you know what I do to spoiled rich brats who make me angry? I bury them! For years I put up with your insolence as a matter of respect for the clan, but you are no more a part of the clan than I am now! You are a lowly human like the rest of us and you will go into that house and face the truth of what’s coming for the loser of this contest. Maybe you’ll walk out with enough humility to stay alive come the spring!”

  “Daddy, please,” Kim whimpered. “You’re hurting my arm!”

  “Good! Be thankful for the pain! At least you’re alive to feel it! If you don’t change your approach, if you don’t accept the absolute urgency of your situation, you will end up in the Purgatory House, not as a visitor, but as a resident! I’m doing this for your own good, Kim! You will get yourself together and you will come with me now!”

  “Okay, I’ll come, just let go of me, please.”

  Galen released his grip on Kim, who took a moment to wipe the tears from her face and take control of her emotions. When it was done, she said, “I’m ready. Let’s go do this.”

  They approached the house and Galen opened the front gate. They walked past a small sign in the front yard that said, “Welcome to the Purgatory House.” They stepped onto the front porch and Galen used the doorknocker to announce their presence.

  An elderly woman in a gray suit answered the door.

  “Good morning,” she said quietly. “Please, come inside.”

  Kim took a deep breath before stepping up the single concrete step into the home, then another before crossing the threshold.

  “I was pleased to receive your phone call, Mr. Renwick,” the woman said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

  She held out her hand in greeting. Galen shook it first, then Kim.

  Kim knew who this woman was but had never spoken to her. A long-time fixture at Thorndike, this woman was the curator of the school’s many museums, and served as usher at the Friday-morning chapel sessions during the school year.

  Edith. That was what her name badge said, and was how everyone at school referred to her. No last name. Just Edith.

  “I think it’s a marvelous idea for you to visit the Purgatory House at this time,” Edith said to Kim. “There is no better way to put yourself in the reverent frame of mind required of a girl wearing black.”

  Had Edith said those words to Kim a day before she would have gotten popped in the mouth. How dare she talk to Kim Renwick about the appropriate “frame of mind” for a girl wearing black? As if this raggedy witch had a fucking clue about the frame of mind needed to compete in a high stakes contest where life and death were on the line.

  But that was the old Kim, the one who thought she would be immortal someday. The new Kim was going to have to learn respect for her elders. She would have to play the game the way everyone else in town played it. Phony smiles, fake laughs, soft handshakes, oh-don’t-you-look-nice-today-I-could-just-murder-you-you-fucking-bag-of-bones-but-instead-I’ll-smile-and-laugh-ha-ha-ha-ha.

  “It’s nice to be here,” Kim said, quietly.

  “Shall we begin the tour?” said Edith.

  “I can hardly wait,” said Kim.

  Edith led them to the living room, where the walls were covered in oil paintings that showed dead bodies lying in pools of blood.

  “The Purgatory House had once been a residence for honored guests at Thorndike,” Edith said. “As you know, a school like this receives many visitors. Lecturers from other institutions, dignitaries from overseas, guests of Daciana and the clan…”

  Edith’s high-pitched voice, coming from her rail-thin body, made Kim think of a squeaky oboe. She had to walk away from Edith and get some space between her ears and that voice. While Edith talked, Kim ambled along the perimeter of the room, looking at the paintings.

  “Guests of the clan needed a place to stay when they came to town, and a quaint house on the Thorndike campus was just perfect,” Edith continued.

  Kim didn’t shy away from the violence in the paintings, much as she wanted to. She wouldn’t give her father the satisfaction of seeing her weak again. She would stare down these portraits as if the events at Renata’s house had never happened. As if she was still in charge.

  Every painting showed an eighteen-year-old girl in a white dress. The girls were on their backs, the top halves of their dresses soaked in blood, their necks torn open.

  Underneath each painting was a placard listing the girl and the vampire who killed her.

  Melanie Efram, killed by Lena Trang, 1984.

  Jacqueline Harris, killed by Melissa Mayhew, 1958.

  Veronica Smith, killed by Bernadette Paiz, 1970.

  “In fact, until 1954,” Edith went on, “if you asked a Thorndike Student to name this building where you now stand, they would have called this place, ‘The Guest House.’ It wasn’t until the strange ending of Coronation in 1953 that Daciana decided to repurpose this home and christen it with its marvelous name. Please, come this way and have a look at the painting over the fireplace.”

  Kim did as Edith asked, ambling to the rear wall and the painting hanging front and center. The placard under that painting said, Donna Stallworth, killed by Steffy Esparza, 1953.

  “Like all the ladies in these portraits,” Edith said, “Donna Stallworth was a Coronation contestant, meaning she danced…well, you understand what that means better than I.”

  “Yes, I do,” said Kim. Edith was about to describe how, at the Homecoming Masquerade, every girl wearing black dances with Sergio, and he persuades her to see the contest through to the very end.

  Never once will you have any doubts about seeing this contest through to the end, no matter the outcome, Sergio had said to Kim that night. It was such a simple conversation. He spoke the truth so clearly, with so much strength. There was n
o fighting it. It made Kim want immortality for herself all the more. You will now make a promise to me, Sergio had said. If you happen to lose this contest, you will do so with grace and dignity. You will abide all the traditions of Coronation, including the walk into the cage, should that walk be yours to make. Do you make this promise to me tonight?

  I do, Kim said to him, and she had the sense that never before or again would she speak words with such power. It was a promise that could not be broken, that would not be broken, no matter what.

  “Once she lost the Coronation contest, Donna Stallworth knew exactly what she had to do and accepted her fate, but, sadly, her mother did not,” Edith said.

  “I know the story,” said Kim.

  Edith let out a little chuckle. “You’ll have to forgive me. You know, I give this tour every fall to the new politicians in town, but of course you are more aware of the history of Coronation than they are.”

  “She has been taught,” said Galen. “And I think it would be good if she told the story to us. Go ahead, Kim. Tell us what happened the night Donna Stallworth died.”

  Kim bit down on her tongue. Her father was making her so angry. He was doing it on purpose. He’s trying to get a rise out of me so he can tear me down again. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

  Calmly, she said, “Donna’s mother tied her up, put her in the back seat of their car, and made a run for Canada. They were all the way to Niagara Falls when Donna slipped loose from the rope holding her wrists. From the back seat, Donna used the rope to strangle her mother. She left her mother’s corpse on the side of the road and drove all the way back to Potomac to go to prom. She walked into the cage and bared her neck for Steffy Esparza, who killed her.”

  “That was a lovely retelling of an important piece of our history,” said Edith. “If I may, I’d like to add one detail. Donna was twenty minutes late to prom that night. For a short time, it appeared there would be no victim for the new immortal. Daciana found it to be incredibly distasteful. New immortals are so very hungry after they are first made. Daciana swore that never again would the Coronation winner have to wait. And that is why we have the Purgatory House. Beginning the year after Donna Stallworth’s tardy arrival to prom, and continuing every year since, the loser of Coronation comes here as soon as the results are final. The Purgatory House is a place where the new immortal’s first meal is kept safe and secure, and is a retreat where a girl facing her final day on this earth can rest and reflect.”