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Broken Elites (The Vampire Legacy Book 3)

Page 12

by Rita Stradling


  I returned my gaze to the stacks of library books I’d checked out, telling myself that there was a completely normal human reason for him not to pick up the phone. My nana had confirmed twice now that Justin was really at the Roberts’ mansion, sick. Justin was just face deep in a toilet or something.

  “You’re still researching?” Mitch asked as he reached across the table and grabbed the other half of my BLT, opened his mouth wide, and bit off most of it. I didn’t stop him. My appetite had deserted me about the same time Justin’s text showed up on my phone screen.

  “I have been researching every free moment I find, but still haven’t found crap.” The whole evil Justin thing had to have some explanation. The simple explanation was that it was him at the party, and he was now lying to Mitch and me about it, so we’d forgive and forget. The other explanation, was that some Supernatural creature had come and impersonated him down to his smell, seemed too farfetched, and yet… I was spending all of my free time reading textbooks, trying to prove it correct.

  I returned my gaze to the first edition textbook on shapeshifters. “There are a lot of demons that could do it, but all of the full demon shapeshifters have to use hell magic to do something like that. According to this, hell magic reeks like sulfur. I didn’t smell any kind of rotten eggs scent at the party, did you?”

  With his mouth full of bacon flakes and green leafy lettuce, Mitch said, “Nope.”

  Nothing in the books explained a creature with no body temperature either. There really wasn’t a link between Justin’s impersonator and the creature who left the dead bodies on the lawn, except that both events took place within twenty-four hours and both happened with Justin, Mitch, and me present. As far as I could tell, body temperature wasn’t discussed at all in this text.

  “I need more books.” I sighed and raised my head from my text, peering around the cafeteria for the first time since we sat down. With midterms two and a half weeks away, I wasn’t the only one with books out, but most students had pushed their texts aside. “I wish Justin and I could just talk about this in person. I’m thinking of just storming his house tomorrow.”

  “Probably not the best ex-girlfriend move,” Mitch grumbled as he continued to chew.

  “Who says we’re broken up?” I snapped.

  “Still…” Mitch shrugged. “I wouldn’t want someone showing up to interrogate me while I have the runs. And, even if you do get him to talk, he’s just going to tell you the same thing he said before. He went to bed and woke up remembering nothing.”

  Mitch sounded disinterested if not dismissive, but it was the kind of response I’d been getting from him for days on pretty much every subject. He might as well have written the words ‘I don’t give a fuck about anything’ on his forehead. He’d even lost interest in discerning the message on the letter from my father. All I had was a blank piece of paper.

  “How come so many Supernaturals have access to spells?” I muttered as I scanned the textbook. “Can werewolves and vampires do magic?”

  “Nope.” Mitch yawned. “Witches and wizards could give a fuck who they sell magic to. Illegal magic stores pop up all the time.”

  Maybe we could take the note to one of these stores. A moment after having the thought, I realized how ridiculous it was. Justin knew the contents of the letter. I just needed to learn what it contained from him. I was both desperate to see him and absolutely terrified of the very idea.

  “I can’t think in here.” I slapped closed the cover of my book and grabbed my phone off the table.

  Two tables over, Mark Yates glanced up from his conversation with some fifth-floor Elite I didn’t know. The rockstar looking senior stood like he had been waiting for us to move. “You guys leaving?”

  “Yeah. Just getting some air,” I called over with a wave as I stood.

  “Want me to help you with that?” He crossed the distance, going for my books.

  I pivoted and did my best to lift the stack with the spines facing my body. “Nope. I’m good.”

  Mark reached out anyway. “It looks heavy…”

  “Really,” I said, backing away. “I don’t need help.”

  When Mark put his hands on my books, Mitch stood up between us and grabbed the library books, sliding them under his arm. “She said no.”

  “Oh, sorry.” Mark held up his hands. “I was just trying to be helpful. Hey, January. Can I talk to you for a moment alone?”

  I wanted to get out of the cafeteria so much that my legs were spasming under me as if they were literally prodding me to move. “Could we maybe talk in the anatomy lab? I really want to pop into the library before lunch is over.”

  Mark’s smile grew a little tense. “You know, I’ve been working up the courage to talk to you all week after I made a complete ass out of myself at your party.” He hooked a thumb behind him. “It’ll just take a moment.”

  “Hey Mark,” Mitch swiped up my soda with his free hand, sucking on the straw and making a loud squeaking sound. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend…?” Mark grinned and shook his head.

  “Really? Does Amber know that?” Mitch lifted a brow. “January has enough to deal with without having to manage your fucking feelings. If she was interested, she wouldn’t keep telling you no. Take the hint and fuck off.”

  “Mitch, I know you think you’re helping me, but I can talk for myself.” As always, when Mitch defended me, I felt the need to stick up for the person who was bothering me. “Mark, you didn’t make an ass out of yourself in my room. Justin and I are just kind of in a weird place right now, but we’re not broken up.”

  Mark brow wrinkled, and his mouth dropped into an “oh” shape. The shock vanished from his expression almost instantly. “Sorry, I can see how I’ve been giving off the wrong impression.” He raised his hands in surrender before running them through his long, ultra-conditioned dark hair. “I really wasn’t going to ask you out…”

  “Bullshit,” Mitch said under his breath.

  But Mark continued like he didn’t hear Mitch, “Honestly, I just wanted to invite you both to a party at my house tonight. It’s going to be fun, and you and all of your friends from the movie night last weekend are welcome. I just really think it’s time that the whole senior class sticks together, you know? That’s all I was going to say.”

  “I’m sorry, Mark. I really wish I could.” I grimaced. “I have to give the Hawthorn Group three days’ notice if I plan to leave campus at night. It’s a stupid rule, but my scholarship is on probation, and I have to toe the line. I bet the others would love to go, though. I’ll pass the message along. Thank you so much for inviting me.”

  Mark opened his mouth to say something, but I pretended not to see and rushed from the table. I wasn’t surprised when Mitch was suddenly beside me.

  “I’m guessing he broke it off with Amber the moment he got a whiff that you’re single,” Mitch said around the soda straw in his mouth. “Clearly, he just won’t take a fucking hint. He probably has a fucking January shrine in his dorm room. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he made Amber put on a blonde wig while he humped her.”

  “Gross, Mitch.” A shiver of revulsion ran through me, but I tried to hide it. After days of dealing with Mitch acting like he couldn’t care less about anything, he was actually getting really fired up about this. “You know what.” I tapped my chin. “Maybe I should go out with Mark.” I shrugged. “Justin did dump me, and Mark would probably take me on an actual date, which Justin has yet to do, ever.”

  “That guy?” Mitch pointed his soda straw back at the cafeteria as his face twisted in disgust. “You want to go on a date with Mark Yates? I’m pretty sure that he doesn’t bathe, he just dips his body in a vat of cologne. It wouldn’t matter where he took you because you’d be puking in your mouth all night.”

  “Maybe I like his cologne,” I said, but I was pretty sure that my expression wasn’t convincing because Mitch gave me a lazy-eyed stare.

 
“Ah. Okay. You’re fucking with me.” He rolled his eyes up to the sky. “No person with a fucking nose likes his cologne. So, are we going to the library, or what?”

  “No.” I sighed. “It was an excuse. There’s not enough time. Let’s just find a place to chill until the bell rings.”

  We walked through crowds of legacy students and past the knobby trunk of the oak that stood central in the courtyard. A chill clung to the air, and I was thankful for it. Brightside had a sweltering summer that lasted well into September, but the season finally seemed to be turning to fall.

  By some unspoken agreement, Mitch and I stopped at the only empty bench table in the courtyard. Mitch set down my books, and then we both climbed up onto the painted wood table. I leaned against his back, and we both looked up into the branches of the willow.

  “January, you haven’t said shit about the meeting Monday.” I could feel his words rumble through his back. “If it’s about my brother, you need to tell me.”

  He was right, but the last thing I wanted to do was tell Mitch that they were going to let his sister’s murderer go free, and Sebastian wasn’t going to have to apologize for killing Marisa. I stayed silent for a while, watching the topmost branches sway in a breeze that must be sweeping through the severely sloped rooftops and towers of the school. “How do you know that we’re the good guys, Mitch?” I asked. “I mean, isn’t everyone the protagonist in their own story? So, what if—to the vampires and werewolves—we’re the heartless monsters?”

  “By that logic, Sebastian could be a good guy and we’re guilty of getting in his way. There has to be good and bad. Nightstalkers are bad. They kill humans. Werewolves are bad as they likewise kill humans.”

  “And so humans are bad because they kill humans?” I pointed out as I grabbed a stick off the table and snapped it into pieces. “That logic doesn't hold up either.”

  “Yeah, okay… but we don’t all kill humans. And, even the most fucked up humans usually don’t kill a person every day.” Mitch paused and leaned back a little into me, “It’s moments like these that I wish you weren’t so fucking straight-edged. Conversations like these are only bearable after a few drinks.”

  “Maybe these conversations would be a little more bearable if you weren’t perpetually hungover.”

  “January, I just want you to tell me why you’re upset,” he said, and his tone startled me. Mocking contempt was Mitch’s default, even with Justin and me. “I’ve given you a couple of days to tell me on your own, but I’m getting the feeling that you’re never going to. Shit. You’ve barely said a word in days.”

  I hadn’t, but not because I didn’t want to confide in Mitch. I just knew that what I had to tell him was going to hurt like hell.

  “It’s not good news, Mitch.”

  “I already figured that much out,” he said. “I’d rather know.”

  “Okay… They’re letting Sebastian go and throwing money at me and the families of the people he killed after he was eighteen—but not before,” I said it all in one breath and had to gasp to refill my lungs. “They’re giving him exactly what he wants because they think Sebastian is their ace in the hole all the while knowing the kind of person he is.”

  Mitch's back grew rigid against mine, and when he talked, his voice shook with anger, “Sounds about right. I never expected the HG to do shit. Why would they? Sebastian and my father gave them what they wanted—Elites. Who knows how many of those assholes were in on it or knew about it and kept it quiet. The Elite Council just has to pretend to be disgusted by all of the murders when really they could give a fuck about the people my brother killed.”

  Mitch didn’t want comfort from me. I knew that, but I still crossed an arm over my chest, reached back, and squeezed his bicep. The branches above blurred to dark smears on a gray canvas.

  Mitch was silent after that, his back continued to be stiff against mine, and his bicep was rigid under my fingers, but he didn't move or speak. Part of me wanted to turn around and give him a hug, but I doubted it would be welcome.

  “As soon as I know you’re safe, I’m leaving Brightside and never coming back,” Mitch muttered.

  “Leaving?” I asked, absolutely shocked, but before he responded, a blur of motion caught my attention. Across the courtyard, I saw a flash of red hair and something flying at us, and then a gust of wind blew my hair back, and Amber was standing inches away. Mitch moved away from me so abruptly that my stomach dropped, and I tipped backward. I slapped my hands down on the wood to catch myself from falling, and by the time I managed back up, Mitch was standing between me and his ex-girlfriend.

  My automatic impulse was to steer clear of confrontations between couples, even if they'd already broken up. I'd learned the hard way that when you tried to stick up for your friends against their love interests, often your friends switched sides, siding with their exes, and treating you like the bad guy. But, I'd witnessed Amber be abusive to Mitch twice now, the first time she'd threatened him with her hands around his neck, and the second time, she'd climbed onto his lap and refused to get off even though he'd clearly told her to get away from him. She was jealous and possessive of him in a way that seemed like she didn't want him, but she didn't want him to move on and be happy either.

  Amber's red hair was swept to the side, and her green eyes looked brighter than I'd ever seen them, probably because they were ringed in red. She pointed a finger up into Mitch's face. “You knew that I was in Mark's room Friday night.” Her words came out thick with suppressed tears. “You knew, and you still pressed the emergency button. You want to know what Blackburn did? They called our fathers, Mitch.”

  “Fuck,” Mitch whispered. The tension that was making his muscles rigid, drained away, and he ran a hand over his dark hair. “Sebastian cornered me that night outside the dorms, and I had drunk a whole bottle of wine. I wasn't thinking.”

  “And yet...” she held out her hands, “You had enough presence of mind to go warn Justin and January.” She threw her hand out toward me.

  “I was in January's...” Mitch trailed off and glanced back at me. Mitch shook his head and turned back to Amber. “If I had remembered you were in there, I would have warned you, Amber, but I completely forgot.”

  She visibly reeled back, and her mouth quivered like she might burst into tears. From her expression, the fact that Mitch forgot that she was in Mark's room was the biggest insult of all. “Well, Mark just broke it off because of his daddy issues, and my father is going to kill me.”

  Mitch pressed his fingers into his temples. “Fuck. If I can help in some way, I will.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Good. I plan on telling my father that we're getting back together. I'm going to need you to go to dinner at my house at least once, and then I need you to keep it going at school until this all blows over.”

  “Hell no, Amber. That's not cool,” I said.

  I'd been on Amber's side up until this very moment. Clearly, having her father find out about her spending the night in a guy's dorm room was devastating for her, but she was making it out like it was Mitch’s responsibility to play fake boyfriend for the foreseeable future. She was using his sympathy to lock him into a dynamic that would probably turn abusive before long. “This is flat out emotional blackmail.”

  “Keep your mouth shut, January. That’s a command from a higher officer.” She tapped the five-striped pin on her chest.

  I set my elbows on my knees and leaned in toward her, “I could give two fucks about my rank, but if you report me, I’ll be more than happy to explain about your abuse of your new rank—if I’m not mistaken that’s an automatic demotion.”

  “This is none of your business, January. Why don't you go find a dumpster to scrounge up some better shoes?” Amber gritted her teeth at me as she motioned down to my paint-stained thrift store sneakers.

  Mitch looked between my shoes and Amber's expensive stilettos. “Leave her the fuck alone, Amber. Only I’m allowed to insult January’s nasty shoe
s,” Mitch said before he crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine, I'll help you deal with your dad, but I'm not going to pretend to be your boyfriend.”

  “You know how he's going to treat me...” Amber sniffed and shook her head, “You're heartless, Mitch Holter.”

  “No, he's not. Mitch has more heart than you could trample over in ten lifetimes.” I didn't know what Amber was going through, it could be terrible, but I had a hard time imagining that it could be worse than what Mitch endured today.

  The bell rang through the courtyard, and a low hum of voices rose around us. I looked up only to see that we'd attracted a small crowd of gawkers, watching us from nearby tables.

  Mitch’s umber eyes flashed to mine. “Go on ahead to class, January. I’ll catch up.”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw a smile twitch on Amber’s lips, but it was gone as soon as I turned to her. She hugged herself as she stared up into Mitch’s face, and her lower lip quivered.

  And…

  Once again, my instincts were right. I shouldn’t have gotten in the middle of their conversation. Clearly, whatever hooks Amber had in Mitch were in deep, and I needed to steer clear before they joined up and I became their enemy—someone for them to rally against to bring them closer as a couple. Abusive relationship 101.

  “All right. Catch you both later.” I grabbed my stack of books off the table and followed the crowd that was filtering out of the courtyard.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Several hours later, I found myself sitting at my desk, eating peanut butter out of the jar, and listening to the dulcet tones of Bailey snoring on my bed.

  My phone buzzed on my desk, and a picture message popped up on my screen. Lucas smiled at me in a selfie with most of the members of the BBC posing in the background. They stood in a crowd of familiar faces, with the backdrop of a luxurious living room.

  A message popped up on the screen.

  Lucas: Last chance to change your mind about having me pick you up for Mark’s party.

 

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