The Inheritances Game (Jameson Hawthorne)

Meeting Up With Ian

That last sentence, more than anything else, convinced Jameson thatIan's offer was genuine. If I win him Vantage, he'll leave it to me. TheHawthorne side of Jameson recognized the obvious: He could win it forhimself, cut Ian out.But then it wouldn't be a gift from his father. 

Jameson didn't linger on that thought for long. "Tonight, Catalina receivedan invitation to the Game," he told Ian. "I haven't. Not yet."Ian's bloodshot eyes focused on Jameson—and only on Jameson. "Didthe Proprietor appear at the top of the grand staircase and descend?"Jameson gave a sharp nod. "With Catalina on his arm, her grandfather." He added scanning his face for some recognition. 

"Then we must act quickly." Ian began pacing ignoring his comment, and Jameson knew theman's mind was racing, knew exactly how it was racing. "The rest of theplayers will be chosen tomorrow evening. Tell me what you've done so farto win entrance to the Game." 

Not enough, Jameson thought. "Tell me what you did to get bannedfirst," he countered. "The Factotum knows that I'm your son." 

Ian ran a hand roughly through his hair. "Little bastard knowseverything." 

Jameson shrugged. "That seems to be his job—that and keeping themembership in order." He thought back to the way Rohan had dealt withthose men. "What did you do, Ian?"What else don't I know? 

"I lost." Ian turned his palms toward Jameson in an insincere mea culpa."People who lose too much get desperate. The Factotum does not trustdesperate men." Ian's lips curled into a smile, dark and wry. "And I mayhave upturned a chair or two." 

So you have a temper. Jameson didn't dwell on that. This wasn't a timefor dwelling on anything. "There were two men there tonight. I don't knowwhat they did, exactly, but the Factotum—Rohan—he rattled off a series ofdates, presumably ones on which they'd committed some kind oftransgression. He offered them the chance to play him." 

Ian tilted his head to the side, his body very still. "What were theterms?" 

"If one or both of them won, they could fight it out in ring." 

"Ah." Ian lifted a brow. "Loser in the ring takes the punishment for both.It would certainly make for motivated fighters—and a great deal of moneywagered on the result. But that's not what happened, is it?" 

"Rohan won the hand. He said they knew what would happen if he did."Jameson had a strong sense that everyone in that room had known.Everyone but him. "Were they banned the way you were?" 

"Exile is considered a lighter punishment." Ian's characteristic air ofdetached amusement was back. "No, those poor sods, whoever they are,will pay a much steeper price." Ian rocked back on his heels. "It's not acoincidence the Factotum made an example of someone right before theGame." 

Jameson's eyes narrowed. "What do you know that I don't?" 

"Catalina, she didn't actually join the Mercy, so I assume she didn'thave to pay the levy." 

Jameson thought back to Rohan's initial offer. The levy to join theDevil's Mercy is much steeper. "The cost of joining—how much is it?"When Ian didn't reply, Jameson amended his question. "What is it?" 

Ian turned back to the window, and Jameson had the vague sense that hewas checking to make sure they weren't being watched—or listened to."There is a ledger in the Devil's Mercy, as old as the club itself. To gainmembership, to pay the levy, you must provide fodder for the ledger.Blackmail material that could be leveraged against you." 

Jameson felt his pulse speed up. "Secrets." 

"Terrible ones," Ian agreed. "The Proprietor must have a way of keepingall those powerful men in line, after all." Ian spoke like he wasn't one ofthem. "A secret and proof. That's what the ledger contains. Those whocross the Proprietor quickly find themselves at his mercy."The Devil's Mercy. Suddenly, the club's name held new meaning. 

"Doesthe Proprietor have any mercy?" Jameson asked."It depends on the offense. Occasionally, he'll ruin a man simply toremind the rest of us that he can, but more frequently, the punishment fitsthe crime. Men who risk the Proprietor's wrath find themselves at risk.Their levy becomes a prize to be won by their peers." 

Jameson's mind raced as he put the pieces together. "The Game. It's notjust for assets the house has won over the course of the year." 

Ian's eyes locked on to his. "The winner may choose: a coveted prize ora forfeited levy, a disgraced member's page from the ledger."A terrible secret, Jameson thought. Blackmail material. The kind thatcould ruin a person."The more powerful the member," Ian continued, "the more valuable hislevy is to the rest. Tell me, who ran afoul of the Devil tonight?"The Devil. 

Jameson wasn't sure if that was supposed to refer to Rohan orthe Proprietor or the Mercy itself. "I don't know." 

Ian stared at him hard, then looked away. "Maybe I'm asking too muchof you." 

Jameson felt like a needle had been stabbed straight through his chest.Ordinary, a voice inside him taunted. Lesser. He gritted his teeth. "Ainsley."Jameson pulled the name out of his memory. "Rohan addressed one of themen as Ainsley." 

Ian cursed under his breath. "There's not a member of the Mercy thatwon't be grappling for an invitation to the Game now." The man steppedforward, an eerily familiar intensity in his vivid green eyes. "What have youdone to earn one?" 

Jameson didn't flinch, didn't hesitate, didn't blink. "I won at the tables." 

"That won't be enough."How many times had Jameson heard some iteration of those words?How many times had he said them to himself? When you have certainweaknesses, you have to want it more. 

"I issued a challenge." 

"Tell me." Jameson did."You winked at him? During the descent?" Ian threw his head back andlaughed. It was so unexpected that Jameson almost didn't notice—I havehis laugh. 

Jameson was too much of a Hawthorne to dwell on that. "I was taught tosee openings—and take them. For better or worse, the Proprietor will bekeeping an eye on me now." 

"If you're going to succeed," Ian replied, all trace of laughter gone fromhis tone, "you're going to have to do a hell of a lot more than win at thetables."Know no fear. Hold nothing back. 

Jameson felt something unfurlinginside himself. "Then I won't confine my winning to the tables." He coulddo this. He was this. "Tomorrow, I'll start the night in the ring. One last thing before I leave, how'd you know Catalina was his granddaughter."

"Disgraced members have amazing secrets."

"Who was the member? Who's secret did you buy?" 

He just smiled. "No need to reveal every secret in one night."