“Tillie Fairchild and Courtney Haynes are two of your class leaders. They’ve proven themselves trustworthy and responsible. Miss Haynes has also become close with Loretta Putnam, so I know you’re not speaking truthfully. Why would Courtney pay for a room in the dorms for a girl she was bullying?”
“Because… because she’s brainwashed Loretta. It’s probably something to do with sacrificing her to your demon god and then bringing her back to life.”
The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. To my surprise, the god let me speak them. Either the stranger in the room knew all about the agreement or the spell that stopped my tongue had lifted.
Ms. West didn’t react how I expected. She looked down at the file on her desk and sighed. Then she turned to the teachers and the strange man. “See? This is what I’m talking about.”
My fingers started to tingle as rage bubbled inside me. I stared down at that paper under her hands, my picture pinned to the front. A file about me, just like the one Ayaz had kept in Parris’ book.
I hocked a wad of spit right in the center of it.
Ms. West didn’t flinch. She picked up the paper, folded it in half, and slid it into her trash can.
That was when I knew I was in deep fucking shit.
“You’ve made wild claims about things at this school,” she said, her voice all concerned and soothing. “Human sacrifices, rats in the walls, a cosmic god living under the gym, students raised from the dead to torment their classmates. You have quite the imagination.”
I folded my arms and glared at her. What are you playing at?
“These wild stories have us concerned. We love our students to exercise innovation and imagination, but when you start to blur the world between fantasy and reality, you become a danger to yourself and others.” Ms. West reached across her desk with taloned fingers, like she wanted to hold my hand or some shit. I folded my arms across my chest and shoved my hands under my elbows. “Quinn Delacorte brought you to the infirmary after he found you passed out with a bottle of floor polish in your hand. After emptying your stomach of the poison, you claimed it was Courtney who forced you to drink it.”
“I never went to the infirmary!” I said. “And she did force it down my throat. And down Greg Lambert’s throat, too. Ask him if you don’t believe me.”
She turned a page on another file. “I’ve already spoken to Mr. Lambert. He was at rehearsal for the school production at the time of this alleged attack, as was Ms. Haynes and her friends.”
I rubbed my head. This isn’t real. She’s trying to mess with my head. She knows we’re getting closer to destroying her.
The strange man spoke up. “I’ve read the file. This young lady believes she took part in a cultist ritual, and that delusion allows her to justify her behavior within her own reality. For whatever reason – probably because her mother entertained men of the type who might join such a society – she seems to have latched onto this Eldritch Club as the root of her psychosis.”
“The Eldritch Club is a very old and very prestigious student supper club here on campus,” said Vincent Bloomberg. “It’s a social group for students, and has never been involved in any occult practices.”
“But this is crazy!” I leapt off my chair. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here. I don’t have any psychosis. The Eldritch Club is—”
Ms. West kept talking in her creepy soft voice, like I hadn’t said anything. “We’ve seen this before, especially among scholarship students. Miss Waite arrived at this school with no experience of our rigorous curriculum and competitive spirit. She has strained herself mentally striving for unattainable goals and in the process, created this delusion to explain why she has not achieved the high standards we set.”
The strange man was nodding vigorously. “It’s understandable that given the tragic circumstances of Hazel’s past, she’s attached herself to the tragedy of Miskatonic Prep.”
“There’s a reason we don’t allow material related to that event in the school,” explained Professor Atwood. “It can cause unpredictable trauma in some students, especially those with darker proclivities.”
“I don’t have darker proclivities!” I screamed. “I’ve been deliberately brought here as a sacrifice!”
“Vincent thought you might double down on your delusion,” Ms. West sighed. “I hate to do this, Hazel, but it’s for your own good. Come in, Mr. Demir.”
I whirled around. Ayaz stood in the doorway, his dark eyes sweeping over me with a detached hostility that made my hair stand on end. He looked just the way I remembered him when I first saw him across the dining hall – rich brown skin, dark cropped hair that curled a little around his ears, a row of dark stubble across his strong jaw. And his eyes… those dark storms watched me without a trace of kindness, of the Ayaz I’d come to know, to trust.
“Ayaz, what… what’s going on?”
Ayaz knelt in front of me, his dark eyes boring into mine. “Please,” he whispered, the word clipped and curt. “You need to go with them. You’re sick, Hazel. They will get you the help you need.”
“No.” I shook my head. “You’re lying. I’m not sick. You know I’m not. What about everything we’ve been through together?”
“We haven’t been through anything,” he said savagely. “We’re not friends. I don’t even like you. You’re a pig-ugly piece of trash who doesn’t belong at this school.”
You’re beautiful. His words wrapped around my chest like a vise, squeezing tight. I struggled for breath.
“What about Parris’ book? What about that night in my bedroom? What about this?”
I pulled my sleeve up to show him the Elder Sign. But when I stared down at my wrist, it wasn’t there.
“What?” I rubbed my skin, but apart from the scar, it was perfectly unblemished. “But I had a tattoo. You gave it to me.”
Ayaz shook his head. “Tattooing without proper training is dangerous, and that would mean I had to touch you voluntarily. I’d never do that. You’ve been saying such strange things. I think you’re really sick if you think I’d ever be caught dead alone in your room with you.”
“What about Zehra?” I demanded. “I didn’t imagine her. You held her in your arms. And last night, she didn’t show up, and I think—”
“Please,” Ayaz closed his eyes. “I wish I’d never told you about my poor, dead sister. You can’t keep pretending she’s alive and that you spoke to her. It’s not true, and every time you do it, it hurts.”
Behind Ayaz’s violent eyes, I was dimly aware of Vincent Bloomberg moving to the doorway, ushering in two nurses in grey scrubs. They advanced on me, their pleasant smiles sinister. “Please don’t worry, Ms. Waite. We’re taking you away to a nice, safe place. The Bloomberg Institution will provide you with the care you need to cure you of these hallucinations.”
A hand clamped on my wrist. I wrenched my arm free, but Vincent grabbed my hand in midair and yanked it down. Atwood and Dexter fell on me, holding me down in the chair while the nurses unrolled leather restraints and… and…
A straitjacket.
I screamed and howled and bucked and kicked. I gave Vincent a good jab in the instep, but they soon had me overwhelmed.
“Ayaz!” I cried. “Help me!”
But Ayaz wouldn’t even meet my eyes. He turned away as the nurses yanked my arms in front of me, tugged on the straitjacket, and tightened it so I couldn’t escape. The last thing I saw as they dragged me away was Vincent wrap Ayaz in a warm, fatherly embrace.
TO BE CONTINUED
Secrets. Lies. Sacrifice. Find out what happens next in book 3 of the Kings of Miskatonic Prep, Possessed.
Need more reverse harem in your life? Join a brooding antihero, a master criminal, a cheeky raven, and a heroine with a big heart (and an even bigger book collection) in a new steamy reverse harem paranormal mystery series by USA Today bestselling author Steffanie Holmes. Read book 1, A Dead and Stormy Night, in KU now.
From the Author
She is nine
years old. Two girls at her school pretend to be her friends, but mock her and humiliate her behind her back. She confronts them one day, tells them she’s sorry if she’d done something to upset them.
“I just want us all to be friends,” she says.
Their faces break into smiles. “That’s what we want, too!”
One of them says she has something awesome to show the others. “We just found it!” She drags the girl behind the school hall. “You’ll love it.” She tells the girl to bend down and look under the hall.
As the girl bends over, a hand grabs the back of her neck, forcing her head down. She twists away, but not before her face is pushed into a pile of dog shit.
She stands up and watches her friends double over with laughter, cackling like the witches of Macbeth. She floats outside her body, looking down on herself – this pathetic girl with dog shit all over her face. She runs. She runs from the school, their laughter following her down the road, around the corner, somewhere, anywhere away from them. She doesn’t remember how far she runs or how her mum finds her. She just remembers running.
This is a true story. It happened to me.
I have a rare genetic condition called achromatopsia. It renders me completely colour-blind and legally blind. I was also a generally imaginative, weird, and introverted child. I was good at art and making up stories and terrible at sports. I wasn’t like the other kids, so they ostracized me, called me names, deliberately invented games to humiliate me, locked me in cupboards, told me that I was stupid, useless, pointless, that I should just go away, that I should never have been born.
It took me years to learn to trust people, to let them see the real me. Social situations still make me anxious, and I’ve struggled with low self-esteem and internalising anger.
In part, this is why I put myself inside Hazel’s head to write this book. But it’s not the main reason.
I want to tell you a different story.
During my first year at university, I met this girl in my dorm. We bonded over a mutual love of Stargate SG1 and Terry Pratchett and became fast friends. We moved in together and were flatmates for two years. We had many of the same classes together, we participated in the same clubs and societies, and she inserted herself into my growing circle of friends. She even started dating my BFF.
In my fourth year, the friendship started to unravel. I was doing postgraduate studies in a different subject to her. I’d moved out of our flat. I was making new friends and developing new interests. I started dating a guy she didn’t like. She felt like she was losing me – this person who was so important to her life and her sense of self.
She was frightened, I think. And her fear pushed her behaviour to greater extremes. She became obsessive, demanding to know where I was every moment, controlling my life, forbidding me to go out without her. She accused me of lying, of stealing from her. She created elaborate scenarios in her head where I had wronged her and had to make amends. I moved her into my new flat, hoping that some proximity would help her to calm down. Instead, she grew more erratic and obsessive.
My boyfriend at the time saw all this happening. He watched me become fearful of this person who was supposed to be my friend. He noted me trying to appease her, cancelling plans because they’d upset her, choosing her over my schoolwork, retreating into my shell.
He knew I was giving into her because of my past, because I was so grateful to have a friend that I didn’t want to lose her. He could see she was taking advantage of my nature to control me.
One day, my friend and I had a particular horrible fight about something. I was staying at his house, and I was terrified to go back to my flat because she was there.
My boyfriend couldn’t watch me hurt anymore. He drove me to the flat. He insisted on coming inside with me. Just having him by my side made me feel stronger.
He marched up to her and he told her that she was going to lose me as a friend if she continued what she was doing. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t call her names. He calmly laid out how she was acting and what it was doing to me. He reiterated how much he cared about me and he wouldn’t stand by and watch me hurt.
It was the first time in my life I remember someone standing up for me. Listening to him speak to her that day was like hearing him speak to every one of my old bullies.
Reader, I married him.
Time and again in my life my husband has stood up for me, stepping in where I wasn’t strong enough. And I’ve done the same for him – I’ve been the lighthouse to his ocean when he needed me most. Now, I don’t need him to fight for me, because he helped me uncover the strength to fight for myself.
I’m not Hazel, and she isn’t me. She’s way more badass. She says the things that I think of an hour after a confrontation and wished I’d said.
Hazel doesn’t need no man to help her find her strength. But I hope as the series progresses, you’ll see how Trey, Ayaz, and Quinn can become her lighthouses when she needs them most.
I know this note is insanely long. Bear with me – I just have a few peeps to thank!
To the cantankerous drummer husband, for reading this manuscript in record time and giving me so many ideas to make it better. And for being my lighthouse.
To Kit, Bri, Elaina, Katya, Emma, and Jamie, for all the writerly encouragement and advice. To Meg, for the epically helpful editing job, and to Amanda for the stunning cover. To Sam and Iris, for the daily Facebook shenanigans that help keep me sane while I spend my days stuck at home covered in cats.
To you, the reader, for going on this journey with me, even though it’s led to some dark places. Warning: if you thought book 2 was tough, book 3 is a whopper. Get it here.
If you’re enjoying Kings of Miskatonic Prep, and want to read more from me, check out my two other reverse harem series. The Nevermore Bookshop Mysteries is what you’d get if you crossed Agatha Christie with Black Books and added a harem of famous literary men. It’s my most popular series to date, and it’s a lot more light-hearted and fun (despite all the murder). Start book 1, A Dead and Stormy Night. If you turn the page, there’s a short excerpt from book 1.
The Briarwood Witches series is about a science nerd heroine who inherits an honest-to-goodness English castle, complete with five hot British/Irish tenants, a fas problem, and some magic she can’t control. It’s a little bit dark and angsty and sexy, and complete at 5 books. You can grab the box set here.
If you want to hang out and talk about all things Shunned, my readers are sharing their theories and discussing the book over in my Facebook group, Books That Bite. Come join the fun.
I’m so happy you enjoyed this story! I’d love it if you wanted to leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads. It will help other readers to find their next read.
Thank you, thank you! I love you heaps! Until next time.
Steff
Want more reverse harem from Steffanie Holmes
“Sizzling hot, sexy characters, and a plot filled with magic, mayhem, excitement, suspense, and fairies. Fantastic.” - Laure Eccleston
“I love all the guys and this book is hot!” - Gilda Rodriguez
“Maeve is feisty and no damsel in distress. I want more!” - Stephanie
Dear Fae,
Don't even THINK about attacking my castle.
This science geek witch and her four magic-wielding men are about to get medieval on your ass.
I’m Maeve Crawford. For years I’ve had my future mathematically calculated down to the last detail; Leave my podunk Arizona town, graduate MIT, get into the space program, be the first woman on Mars, get a cat (not necessarily in this order).
Then fairies killed my parents and shot the whole plan to hell.
I've inherited a real, honest-to-goodness English castle – complete with turrets, ramparts, and four gorgeous male tenants, who I'm totally not in love with.
Not at all.
It would be crazy to fall for four guys at once, even though they're totally gorgeous and amazing and wonderful
and kind.
But not as crazy as finding out I'm a witch. A week ago, I didn’t even believe magic existed, and now I’m up to my ears in spells and prophetic dreams and messages from the dead.
When we're together – and I'm talking in the Biblical sense – the five of us wield a powerful magic that can banish the fae forever. They intend to stop us by killing us all.
I can't science my way out of this mess.
Forget NASA, it’s going to take all my smarts just to survive Briarwood Castle.
The Castle of Earth and Embers is the first in a brand new steamy reverse harem romance by USA Today bestselling author, Steffanie Holmes. This full-length book glitters with love, heartache, hope, grief, dark magic, fairy trickery, steamy scenes, British slang, meat pies, second chances, and the healing powers of a good cup of tea. Read on only if you believe one just isn’t enough.
START READING NOW
Agatha Christie meet Black Books
What do you get when you cross a cursed bookshop, three hot fictional men, and a punk rock heroine nursing a broken heart?
After being fired from her fashion internship in New York City, Mina Wilde decides it’s time to reevaluate her life. She returns to the quaint English village where she grew up to take a job at the local bookshop, hoping that being surrounded by great literature will help her heal from a devastating blow.
But Mina soon discovers her life is stranger than fiction – a mysterious curse on the bookshop brings fictional characters to life in lust-worthy bodies. Mina finds herself babysitting Poe’s raven, making hot dogs for Heathcliff, and getting IT help from James Moriarty, all while trying not to fall for the three broken men who should only exist within her imagination.
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