Because he was mad. So angry, his roars reverberated the walls and shook my lamp on the nightstand.
When I confessed all this to Ahmar on the night she died, his expression darkened, his mouth turned tight and grim, and he arrested my father on sight.
And when my father was released due to insufficient evidence, that demon eating me up inside wore my skin for its own.
“Honey, nothing good comes from retaliation.” Lynda’s soothing voice comes on the line, brushing against the spindly thorns of those memories. “Whatever happened to make you do this—and Pete, I know she didn’t do this at random—you report it to a teacher, honey. Or your counselor. Or any responsible adult who can handle the situation appropriately. You understand?”
That’s what I did after Mom was murdered, I want to hiss. And look what happened. I was turned wrong, and my stepdad swore I was too traumatized by loss to see straight. And every single adult responsible for my well-being believed him. Including you.
“I convinced the headmaster to give you another chance,” she continues over the increasing loudness in my head, internal voices that won’t shut up, “and I hope you’ll take it. We’d also like you to see your guidance counselor weekly, if not every other day. Can you do that for us, honey?”
My mouth opens.
“Do it,” Dad says before I can agree. “Or else I’ll add behavioral psychiatrist to the list. And I’ll make sure they evaluate you for a prescription.”
I take a huge breath. Then another. I hope it’s enough to stop the quaking of my bones. “Okay. I’ll go to the counselor, I’ll take the punishment, but I’m not who they say I am.”
They’re hiding more than I’ve ever concealed.
I keep that thought to myself, since it will only convince Lynda and Dad of my perceived fragile mental state. Eighteen or not, he can still have me involuntarily committed with this evidence.
“Good,” Dad snaps. “You can forget about any parties, too. Halloween is out, and the headmaster agrees to keep someone in your dorms to ensure you stay in your room. And if, by Parents’ Weekend, you’ve kept your nose clean, we’ll revisit my desire to send you to some serious therapy.”
I swallow and attempt to emulate the scolded, contrite, want-to-be-good kid they’re determined to hear. “Understood.”
“We’ll see you in a month, Cal.”
“Be safe!” Lynda says before Dad ends the call.
My feet hit the floor with a light thud, and I readjust my backpack with cold, numb fingers. I’m late to calc, and after the talk with Dad and Lynda, it’s imperative I wear a squeaky-clean veneer.
I’ve been exposed to the drugs Dad threatens, and I never want to go back there. Not ever.
I descend the stairs one by one, mentally planning through my growing desperation of how I’m going to keep pursuing the society without setting off more alarm bells.
The Virtues have proven their control and talent for manipulation, but they’re so cocky and drunk on the academy’s power, they haven’t considered who they’ve come up against. I’m just as skilled as them, if I want to access that buried part of my brain badly enough.
And after this, I do. Oh, I so absolutely do.
21
The next couple of weeks inch by with the accompanying snot-trail of a snail.
Halloween night came and went, and I stayed in my room, despite Ivy’s How do I know about Riordan’s erection? Because after the Halloween dance, Ivy gained access into my dorm, arguing with the college student that she also worked the front desk at Thorne House, and thus, deserved a brothers-in-arms type of trust, and crawled into my bed, delighting me with her summary of hook-ups, fights, and passing outs.
Other than that, the only one other good thing that arose from this time-lapse was the removal of my bandage, revealing a nasty sunburn on my hand rather than an angry, second-degree mottling. The pink-tinged, sensitive skin still needs some doctoring, but as long as I apply ointment and protect it from the sun, I should be all right.
For the remainder of my punishment, I plan to keep my head down (as promised), reporting to my detention and cleaning duties on time and with a closed-lipped smile, despite the injustice inside me demanding I claw at the walls and scream at the top of my lungs.
But I don’t, because I’ve done all that before, and didn’t I learn my lesson back then?
Students largely ignore me, and I take enough time to wonder if it’s because I remain under Chase’s ill-begotten “protection,” or if I’ve just started to smell so bad from picking up garbage, they’ve all decided I’m not worth the trouble.
The dining hall’s become messier than usual, and cleaning up the grounds outside the school is no better. I use the same grasper tool I use in the dining hall, and since it and I have become so close, I’ve named it Grabby-Hands. We trudge all around campus, sticking everything from fast-food wrappers to used condoms that have somehow been tossed into the hedges.
I don’t know why, and I don’t want to know.
I’ve even been designated to empty the trash in the dorms but have been told to only do the girls’ rooms.
I suppose Marron has spared me from the truly questionable and haunting items occupying boys’ areas.
During class, I sit silently, only answering questions when called upon. It makes me less of a target and much more forgettable, a cloak I’m coming to accept with ease.
Chase goes out of his way to avoid me. On one Wednesday, when I was out near the fountain, clearing off tissues and receipts from Piper’s makeshift memorial of flowers and weather-beaten stuffed animals, Chase exited the school, and as he strode down the wheelchair-access ramp and lifted his head, he took one look at me and spun on his heel back inside.
Literally screeched his brakes and did a U-turn.
“Coward!” I’d called after him, but he was no use to me anymore. I didn’t give a damn whether he stayed or ran.
At least, my mind didn’t care. My heart has other ideas, but I threaten it daily.
Chase lied. He lured me in with a book that turned out to be fairly useless, turned against me without blinking an eye, and sided with the Virtues, basically okaying their attack.
He uses his school powers for evil, and I am so done with that bastard.
Instead, my attention turned to Eden, who I’ve been watching carefully through the veiled lens of boredom as I sit quietly and unobtrusively in the classes we share.
She’s the one who told me Piper was a Virtue, meaning she knows more than she’s sharing, but I haven’t gotten a chance to get her alone.
I plan to change that.
Eden’s slippery, though. She’s always in some sort of extra-curricular or so intense about her studying, that when I clean up enough to go visit Ivy in the evenings, she actually turns feral if I try so much as to say hello.
But there will come a moment when I corner her. Everyone gets themselves alone at some point during the day, and if I have to back her into a bathroom stall, I will.
Grabby-Hands and I are done for the day, so after swiping sweat-damp hair from my brow, I store him in the janitor’s closet and head to the dorms.
Emma might be there, or she might not, but I’m finished pondering over her nightly escapes and where she goes. Ever since Chase showcased his talent for throwing me under the bus, I consider her an untrustworthy accessory.
After keying into our room, I walk into our quiet, deserted central area, peeling off clothes as I go. Emma’s door is shut, and I don’t bother to call out that I’m home, deciding a hot shower will be a much better greeting than anything I’d receive from Emma.
I spend a lot of time under the spray, enjoying how the water massages my aching shoulders and back, and taking pleasure in washing my hair and scalp. Once I’m confident I smell more like vanilla-orange blossom than day-old pizza, I turn off the faucet and grab the towel.
I’m wiping my face, when my phone dings where I left it by the sink.
The steam I’ve cr
eated in the small bathroom has misted both the mirror and my screen, so I give it a quick wipe before reading the text, continuing to towel off with one hand.
Private Number: You’ve been accused of something you didn’t do.
The towel drops to the floor. I read it again, then reply:
Who is this?
After a few seconds, another message comes through.
It doesn’t feel good to be framed, does it? Watch out. They’re just warming up. Arresting you for Piper’s murder is next.
Goosebumps appear on my forearms, despite the steam.
Me: Whoever you are, you missed the latest. Her sister’s boyfriend’s been arrested.
Unknown: But did he do it? Or did they?
I worry the inside of my cheek, coaxing my heart into a regular rhythm despite those very words circling my mind every day.
Me: You don’t sound too sure either.
Private Number: I have dirt on the Nobles and Virtues, and I’m willing to share it with you.
The phone falls to my side, and I tip my chin up to the ceiling, closing my eyes on a sigh. I’m supposed to be squeaky clean—and not in the literal sense. I shouldn’t be dipping into conspiracy tunnels and going off the rails with theories I can’t back up. Not now, when my credibility is so shaken. But the temptation is there. No, the need.
Maybe I can do this one thing. All I have to do is listen and see what this person has to say. No physical action required, other than being careful.
I go back to my phone.
Me: Meet me in town Saturday morning at the lobster shack.
Private Number: Too exposed. I’ll meet you in the public library, at the Briar exhibit in the back.
I suck on my tooth as I stare at the screen. Meeting in the most deserted, low-lit part of a failing library isn’t my first choice, but if I scream, Darla will come running. Won’t she?
Me: Ok. 9 am sharp.
Private Number: See you then. And keep alert. They’re far from done with you.
God. Cryptic as all hell.
I drop my phone in the sink, combing my hair back and studying my face in the mirror. My cheekbones are sharply angled by the new hollows under my cheeks. My eyes, which used to be the same chameleon hazel as my mother’s, have dulled to a murky gray. I’m paler than I should be, chewing on multi-vitamins no substitute for food, and my hands resemble blue, veiny claws rather than the soft, long-fingered femininity they once claimed.
A rumbling fear stirs in my belly the more I study my reflection. My inner demon cracks open an eye.
Was that a noise?
I glance at the locked bathroom door, sure I heard the clomp of shoes on the other side.
Emma rarely wears shoes indoors. It’s how she creeps up on me so easily.
Another sound, familiar in its clatter, piques my hearing.
Someone’s rifling through our fridge.
Visions of my cloaked visitors and the strange roses they leave behind creep alongside my periphery. Nightmares of the Virtues breaking in—Addisyn at the helm—and finishing the job pound against my exposed flesh.
They’re far from done with you.
I step back from the door, pick up my towel, and wrap it around my torso. Then, I cautiously unlock and crack open the door.
22
A hunched figure leans into Emma’s and my fridge, grunting as he clanks around jars.
I push the door open farther, calmer now that it’s clear there’s not a hoard of Cloaks ready to descend on my naked, vulnerable form, and pad out into the center of the room.
My gaze narrows.
That butt. I’d recognize that ass anywhere.
“What the hell are you doing with my food?”
My loud question causes him to jump and curse as he nails his head on the top of the fridge.
Chase staggers to his full height and faces me, an open carton clutched in his hands.
He swallows, his glazed stare running over me, then going back to the food. “I’m looking for my sister.”
“Well, you’re not going to find her inside my pad thai.”
Chase grunts, then throws it back in the fridge and slams the door, bottles rattling. “It’s bland, anyway.”
I lean in for a closer inspection, noticing the red rimming his eyes and how they can’t quite focus on a single object. His posture is lopsided, his uniform rumpled, his hair askew.
Yep. He’s either drunk or high. Probably both.
My lips go tight. “Haven’t you heard the latest? No one’s allowed in or out of my dorm room, other than my meandering roommate.”
“Mm.” Chase pretends to think on the house arrest he helped to cause. “My sister’s re-acclimating to the academy slowly. I’m allowed in to help her along.”
I make a sound of disgust. “You should go back to your dorms, where maybe somebody might be happy to see you.”
“Nope. I told you. Looking for Emma.”
I glance toward Emma’s room but notice her door’s ajar and she’s nowhere inside.
“Checked there already,” Chase says as I turn back to him.
“You won’t find her in my room, either. And since I was in the bathroom…” I wait for Chase to finish my sentence. When he doesn’t, I sigh. “She’s not here, Chase.”
“Oh. Damn.” Chase leans against the countertop instead of making a move to leave.
When I see where his eyes drift, my grip tightens at the top of my towel.
My nipples, however, have other ideas and demand to be set free, exposed to the air and Chase’s sexual survey.
I clear my throat. “Can you leave now?”
Chase angles his head, his attention frozen on my chest. After a moment, he murmurs, “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”
Ignoring the traitorous twinge of my heart, I growl, “Fuck off and go, Chase.”
“I remember what you look like under there.” He gives a heavy-lidded blink. “It’s singed into my brain, how you curve in all the right places, the way you fit into my hands.” His eyes flick up to mine. “Your taste is still on my tongue.”
“You don’t get to do that,” I rasp. “Not after what you’ve done.”
He flinches, and that brief flash of emotion gives me more insight into his thought process than he’s ever allowed before.
Chase is ashamed, even though he’s made it clear where his loyalty lies. He wants to destroy my time here, or at the very least, ruin it, but I’m starting to think … is it because he has a personal vendetta, or is there another factor at play?
He doesn’t follow up with an excuse, though, and for some reason, that enrages me further.
“Why did you lie to Marron?” I ask him in a stronger voice.
Chase looks up to the ceiling instead of answering, and damn it, I should’ve expected that. Chase doesn’t give answers; he incites more questions.
Yet, he stills as if he’s preparing himself for a battering, so I persist. “You know I didn’t vandalize the chem lab.” I suck in a disgusted breath. “If this is some fucked up way of getting back at me for ending what we had, need I remind you, it was you who walked out of here after I told you Piper was pregnant. It was you who asked me to find out the DNA of the fetus. And it was you who gave me Howard Mason’s book, pretending like you were trying to protect me when you just wanted to set me up for them.”
A low rumble sounds from his throat. “There’s so much. So much you don’t know.”
“What have I done to make you want to hurt me?” The question comes out unfiltered, and I wince at the emotional whimper it becomes. “Did you enjoy toying with me? When I fell for your act, when I let you into my bed, were you turned on by the pain you were about to cause?”
In a blink, Chase is centered in my vision, stepping so close that he puts his hands on my waist.
I gasp, losing what little breath was escaping from the thickness of my throat, and look up at him.
This close, I smell the liquor on his breath. The weed.
He’s only attracted to me right now because he’s lost his sobering armor. That fact is like a bucket of ice water splashing over my head, my shoulders, and my face crumples with the icy realization before I can stop it.
I place my hands against his chest, pushing him back. He doesn’t move.
“This isn’t you right now,” I whisper near his heart. “You can’t give me what I want, so I’m not going to give into you.”
The barest brush hits the bottom of my chin as he tilts it up. His eyes search mine with bleary melancholy.
At last, he says, “The rules within the academy were written long before you got here. I can’t disregard them the way Howard Mason tried and the way you want me to.”
“Thorne and Rose Briar created rival societies in this school,” I murmur in return. “But what does their twisted past have to do with your relationship with me?”
He strokes a finger down the side of my face, and I turn in to it like the starving, friendless cat that I am. Chase is compromised, yes, but he looks so damn tired, and I wonder if, under his stare, I resemble the same.
“I can’t tell you everything but know this…” he says. “I care about you.”
I snort, hoping to jar myself back into reality. “But your actions will never show it, will they?”
Chase ensures I meet his eyes, then repeats, “I care about you.”
I shove at his pecs. “No, you fucking don’t. You lied for them. You helped them.”
He bends close. “Listen to my voice behind my words. I care about you.”
My lips slam shut as I search his eyes, the emotion in his tone hitting my ears, but in all the wrong places. It isn’t right, what he’s communicating. It isn’t fair.
“So, you lied to protect me? Is that it? You’re helping them to protect me?” I push at his shoulders again, but his body doesn’t give way to my angry shoves. “My life could be ruined because of your so-called protection. I was nearly beaten to a pulp because of it. My dad wants to commit me. Do you know how fucked up that—?”
Chase catches the rest of my question with his lips, the pressure so sizzling, so startling, my body buckles until his grip holds me steady.
Virtue (Briarcliff Secret Society Series Book 2) Page 14