Page 121

“You killed Elwood. You killed Sylvie’s father. You killed the leader of our Order.”

Cromwell waves his hand dismissively. But the mask is already slipping.

“That’s a falsehood.”

There is aggression in his tone now. He’s denying it, but I know. My gut tells me, and my mind is connecting all the pieces of the puzzle.

“I’m going to ask you again,” Baptiste says. “One more time. Did you kill Elwood?”

Cromwell laughs now. It’s so fucking fake.

“Why are you treating me like this? I looked after you, Baptiste. I made sure you were accepted by the elite circles you yearned for. And you, Fabien, I took you in. I basically raised you both, and now you’re accusing me of this grave act? I expected better from you both. Don’t believe a word they’re saying, Clement. They’ve gone insane, and I should have them checked before these rumors turn dangerous.”

We’re totally incapable of doing anything, and he now holds all the cards. And he knows it. He doesn’t have to admit a thing.

Clement doesn’t seem to know who to believe. He’s caught between us.

And so, I turn to him, and in a last-ditch effort, I speak a language we’ve not spoken in years.

The language we boys invented at school when we were kids...

“He’s lying.”

Clement’s eyes go wide. He still understands the made-up words.

“He’s the murderer,” Baptiste adds in a broken delivery.

Cromwell grimaces. He doesn’t know what the hell we’re saying.

And there’s a long silence as Clement takes in the words.

I look at my best friend. He looks at me. He hates me now, but he must know his brotherhood is telling the truth. Why else would we use our language? Why else would we be asking him to disbelieve his own father?

I see the conflict raging in Clement’s eyes.

His pain.

His indecision.

But it’s slowly sinking in. Like with me, the pieces are fitting together.

Cromwell has always been obsessed with power, obsessed with becoming the Supreme Elder. Hell, he’s even said so many times he’s prepared to do anything for his own ambitions.

Maybe that even includes killing people he cares about.

“You’re the Masked Killer,” Clement says to his own father. Slowly. Surely.

Cromwell tenses. The mask is gone now.

“I was going to tell you all this someday, Clement. But now, when I’ve finally been made Supreme Elder, is as good a time as any.”

“Tell me what?”

“I’ve been doing the job that no one has dared do,” Cromwell says. “Elwood and Fabien’s father were stuck in the past. Stuck in a Castaways cycle, too afraid to confront the foundations of the Order. I’m going to save the Castaways. Rebuild it to its former glory. It’s fallen, can’t you see? And not from any murder, but from decades of sloth, ineptitude, and laziness. We should be rulers of the earth. We should be kings, and I will make it so again. There must be sacrifices, sure, but they had to be made in order to make us powerful again. We must cut out the weak.”

“Were my parents weak?” I ask him.

“I was meant to be next in line,” Cromwell says. It’s all coming out of him now like a river. Like he can’t resist, like he’s relishing finally revealing it. The man has held all these careful plans in secret for so long, and now he has a captive audience. “I was meant to become Supreme Elder. George Cote’s killing was meant to be a one-off. The leadership should have passed from Supreme Elder Cote to me, but Elwood got there first. He became leader, and so I had to bide my time and re-strategize. I had to slowly get rid of rivals to clear my path. It was hard, and something I didn’t want to do, but it was necessary. And now I’m here, and the real work begins. We will take our place as rulers of the world.”