Aftereffect (The Order of Ravens and Wolves Book 1)

by T. L Hodel

  Warily, I flowed into the line of students, wondering how one was supposed to act in this environment? Was there some kind of protocol? Or was it just a ‘be yourself’ type of thing? I snickered. The last thing Ashworth wanted was for me to be myself. That was pretty clear when they kept referring to me as Logan’s stepsister.

  The displayed menu posed another problem. Half this crap I couldn’t pronounce, let alone consider eating. Maybe Shelby could help? I pulled out my phone and texted her.

  Me: What the hell is a Larb salad and Fergburger?

  Shelby’s text came nearly immediately.

  Shelby: Are you watching some weird alien movie again?

  Me: No, it’s on the menu at Ashworth.

  Shelby: Trina says they might have fish eggs and snails in them. I say try it. Maybe you’ll start putting on dresses and wearing makeup. You know, like a girl.

  I scoffed. If only she knew.

  Me: I’m wearing a skirt right now, thank you very much.

  Shelby: What! No way. Let me see!

  Me: Yeah right, and give you blackmail material, don’t think so.

  Shelby: I would never!

  I cocked my brow at the phone.

  Me: Who do you think you’re talking to.

  Shelby: Oh come on, let me see. I’m not going to stop until you do.

  Me: Well I guess it’s a good thing I can turn off my phone then.

  The last thing that Shelby texted before I hit the power button was, bitch! I’d pay for that later. She’d be calling nonstop after school. Eventually, I’d cave and send her a pic. But only because I didn’t want Shelby showing up here. I needed to keep her out of danger and away from Micha.

  I ended up settling on a chicken salad sandwich – simple, tasty, and absolutely no chance of fish eggs. With tray in hand – which was shiny and silver, not plastic and crappy – I exhaled and scanned the crowd. A group of cheerleaders sat in the middle next to the tables of jocks, followed by the typical cliques of misfits, smart kids, and so on.

  I almost cried out in relief when I spotted Harper, sitting alone in the back. Her head was down, and she jumped when I dropped my tray on the table. The girl spent so much time staring at the floor that she could probably identify people by their shoes.

  “Of all the gin joints in all the worlds, you had to walk into mine.”

  Her big doe eyes rolled up and stared blankly.

  “Casablanca?”

  Still nothing.

  “Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman?” I shook my head and sat down. Didn’t anybody watch movies anymore?

  “What are you doing?”

  “Eating,” I replied, taking a bite out of a carrot stick.

  “Here?”

  “Sure.” I shrugged, and then paused to shoot her a worried glance. “Why? There aren’t any Teletubbies around, are there?”

  Her brow rose.

  “What? Those things freak me out.” They really did. Dancing around all happy and shit. It wasn’t natural.

  “You’re strange.” She ducked her head, but not before I saw a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

  I can live with strange. If that’s what it took to get her lighten up for a few seconds then I’d be strange all damn day.

  Most of our lives, Shelby and I had been the weird girls. Even when we were kids, Shelby was in a different league. Everybody wanted her attention. Why she chose to give it me, I never understood. Besides for being a little meek, Harper was a more likely choice for Shelby’s friend. Anyone could see she was beautiful. Why wasn’t she sitting at the table with the other beautiful girls?

  “Oh my God, Harper,” a tall girl with caramel- colored skin squealed as she bounded toward us. “Why didn’t you tell me someone slapped Mason!” Her dark hair bounced off her back as she cocked her hip and waggled her head. “I was with you all morning and you didn’t say a thing!” Her tray dropped on the table with a resounding bang. “Was it really Logan’s stepsister? What’s she like?” She plopped down next to me, curiosity shining in her bright hazel eyes. “Is she a tight ass like her old man?”

  Harper’s worried eyes shifted over at me.

  Would she still think my dad was a tight ass if she knew he sold me into human slavery?

  “I didn’t know Sheriff Adams had a kid, did you?” the girl continued. “I mean, where’s she been all this time? And who’s her mother? I can’t imagine him with a wife and kid. Yeah okay he’s hot, but he married Paisley Hudson. Paisley!” She pointed a forkful of salad at Harper. “There’s seriously something wrong with that woman. She comes to church every Sunday with a big smile, and a plate of homemade cookies.” She waved her fork in the air, flinging salad everywhere. “And I know she didn’t bake those cookies. No one looks that good and bakes.”

  Harper shifted in her chair. “Um . . . Lana?”

  “Oh, don’t give me that look,” Lana groaned. “You’ve heard the rumors about Logan’s dad. They have to be somewhat true. Logan’s clearly crazy, and his mother acts like she just finished hosting a children’s show.” She stabbed her fork in the salad and shoved it into her mouth. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she was a robot.”

  Huh? This chick might not be so bad.

  Lana’s eyes went wide and she placed her palms flat on the table. “Maybe the stepsister is just as crazy as they are?”

  “Lana!” Harper called out in frustration.

  “Oh, come on! She hit Mason. Mason! Mess with one Kessler and you mess with them all, everyone knows that.” Her forehead crinkled and her lips pursed. “Come to think of it, Stacy Kroner said Micha hit some guy for saying something about some girl named Riley. Who the hell is Riley?”

  My brow rose. He did what?

  “Lana!” Harper yelled.

  “I know!” Lana proclaimed, sounding amazed. “I wouldn’t want to be on Micha’s radar, either. I mean, they’re all dicks, but Micha is down right scary. I wonder what she did?”

  Harper looked at me and said, “Maybe, she didn’t do anything?”

  Lana sat back and twisted the cap off a bottle of water. “She had, to have done something.”

  “Maybe, Micha’s just an asshole,” I interjected, unable to maintain my silence anymore.

  Lana turned my way, shocked to see someone else sitting at the table. Well, if she stopped talking long enough to take a breath, she might notice things around her. Shelby did the same thing. Once she spent three hours with me before she noticed Marnie was there, too.

  “Who are you?”

  “Um Lana this is –”

  “The infamous stepsister,” I finished for Harper.

  Lana’s jaw dropped. “You’re Sheriff Adams’ daughter.”

  “According to my mom,” I shrugged, “but I’m still holding out hope for a secret love child scenario.”

  “But you’re so . . .” she paused and rolled her hand, “hot?”

  “According to you, so is my dad.” I snickered, kind of flattered. I’d always considered myself average at best.

  Lana hid her face in her palms and groaned, “Harper! Why didn’t you stop me?”

  “Seriously?” Harper grumbled. “I tried to stop you, but like always, you wouldn’t shut up.”

  “I don’t talk that much,” Lana huffed.

  I just met this chick and couldn’t help but snort in disagreement.

  “You suffer from a chronic case of verbal diarrhea,” Harper muttered.

  Lana rolled her eyes and turned to me, “Hi, I’m Lana.”

  “Riley,” I replied, happy that someone in this place didn’t automatically assume my name was Logan’s stepsister.

  “Riley, huh?” Lana sat back and eyed me. “What does Micha Kessler want with you?”

  I shrugged, because what was I supposed to say? ‘Oh my dad signed a contract, and now I’m basically engaged to someone I hate?’ Yeah, that didn’t make me sound crazy at all.

  Lana tilted her head to the side. “You’ve heard of the Knights, right?”


  “Of course.” Who in this town hadn’t? “And before you say it,” I added when her mouth opened ready to spew more words, “I’ve heard the rumors too. Secret societies, and dark rituals, blah, blah, blah. They’re just rumors.”

  Marnie spent all last year researching the Order of Ravens and Wolves. She thought it would be this huge article for the school paper. Guess what she found? Nothing. Nada. Zip. Not even so much as a mention in any of the town’s history. Though, now I couldn’t help but wonder if there might be some truth to the town gossip?

  “So you don’t believe any of it?”

  “Nope,” I said, following Harper’s lead and concentrating on my food.

  One bite of my sandwich and I was lost in flavor overload. Jesus, even the chicken salad was better here! How could something so simple taste so good?

  “Okay,” Lana said in a hushed tone, and pointed. “Then explain that.”

  I turned around just in time to see Micha and his friends saunter in the cafeteria. The atmosphere instantly changed. Loud chatter, dulled to quiet whispers. The air felt thicker, and eyes around the room tried to avoid direct contact. It was like when a crowed restaurant pretended they weren’t paying attention to the couple arguing in the corner.

  Logan and Mason followed Micha. Behind them was the English class creeper, who Lana introduced at Silas Creswell. Besides for his obvious anger issues, Silas was just as good-looking as the rest of them. He was tall, with black hair, and light crystal blue eyes.

  The last and tallest was Parker Whitley. I only knew him because of the stories of his cold-hearted brother, Preston. Lana seemed to like him, though. Her voice went all high and squeaky when she pointed him out. He was okay, I guess, if you were into the whole surfer look. His sandy hair hung loosely to his shoulders and he carried himself in a carefree manner.

  While they were all stunningly handsome – I was starting to wonder if they put something in the water here – my eyes were drawn to Micha. Even among these gods of teenage boys, he stood out, radiating power and confidence. He didn’t have to wait in line or tell people to clear a table. He’d simply look their way and they scurried away like he was the devil himself.

  “Oh, girl,” Lana sang, when Micha’s eyes rolled up and locked on me, “you’re in trouble.”

  Tell me about it.

  Though I could feel him watching me, I tried to ignore him and went back to eating. Which was fruitless. My sandwich didn’t taste so good anymore. Sighing, I dropped it back onto the tray.

  “Whose tie is that?”

  “It’s Micha’s,” Harper quietly answered.

  Lana’s eyes went wide.

  “I couldn’t figure mine out,” I explained with a shrug.

  “Don’t you know what wearing a guys tie means?”

  “No,” I sighed, “but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

  “Ivy’s wearing Duncan’s tie.” She nodded at a blonde, before turning my attention to another table. “That’s Julie, she has Neil’s.” Her hand swung over to the group of cheerleaders. “And over there is Pam and Carter. They’ve been together for two years. Guess who’s tie she’s wearing?”

  “So, what you’re saying is –”

  “Honey, you’ve been claimed.”

  I looked down at the tie around my neck, and then at Micha.

  Son of a bitch!

  I knew something was up! Well, if he thought he could get away with shit, he was wrong! I glared at Micha and grabbed the tie, pulling the knot loose. Micha tilted his head and cocked his brow in warning, when I slipped the silk over my head.

  “Don’t,” Lana warned in a hushed whisper. “You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

  “I don’t care.” And I really didn’t. I was so far beyond giving a fuck, it wasn’t funny.

  Standing up, I strolled across the cafeteria and held the tie up, making sure to look at Micha as I dangled it over the trash. His eyes darkened with warning as he shook his head.

  You think you can own me, Micha Kessler?

  I dropped the tie and skipped out of the cafeteria with a smile on my face.

  Own that, asshole!

  Chapter Eleven

  Riley

  Expecting retribution, I hid in the back corner of the library with my sketchbook. But retribution never came, and I soon got lost in the phoenix I was drawing. Why a phoenix? I don’t know. That’s just what came out. By the time the bell rang, I was already feeling better, hopeful even. Maybe I did have a chance after all?

  Should’ve known better.

  As I was rounding the corner for my locker, someone grabbed my arm. I squealed and threw my elbow back, but all that got me was a soft ‘oomph’.

  “Let go of me!” I demanded, fighting to stay in the hall. But my struggles were in vain. I was yanked into a dark room, away from witnesses, and slammed up against the wall.

  “Did you think that shit was cute?”

  Despite my current predicament, it was somewhat comforting to hear a familiar voice.

  I twisted my neck and peeked over my shoulder at Micha. The shadowy room deepened the scowl on his face, bringing out the anger burning in his eyes – which of course made me smile.

  “A little,” I sang, looking around the room. Not that I could see much as the only light that filtered in was from under the door. A faint hint of dust hung in the air, and a couple shelves with a few items on them, lined the wall to my right. Some kind of storage room maybe?

  “I’ve been lenient with you.” Irritation dripped from his every word. ”But my goodwill only goes so far.”

  Pfft, lenient!

  If this is what Micha called being nice, then he was in serious need of a dictionary.

  “Do you think I like to share my shit, Mouse?”

  That made me snort. I once saw him push a kid off the swings because he looked at the sandcastle Micha was building. I kicked it over after that, by the way.

  “My brother tells me, you’ve been getting a bunch of unwanted attention.”

  “How’s that my fault?” I snapped, and then smirked. “Besides, who says it’s unwanted?”

  Much like the sandcastle incident, it didn’t take me long to regret my actions. Micha stepped in, flattening his front against my back, and my body instantly went into traitorous mode. Warming up as his hot breath fanned over the shell of my ear.

  “Stay away from Callaghan.”

  Who the hell is Callaghan?

  “You don’t get to dictate who I spend my time with!”

  “The fuck I don’t!” Micha roared, slamming his fist against the wall.

  I squeaked and pressed my forehead into the wall. I’d seen Micha angry – hell, I’ve intentionally pissed him off – but he always kept his stone-cold exterior. I couldn’t help but be afraid. Was this when my tormentor took things over the line of humiliation to violence? Not too far of a jump, considering Micha hated me.

  “Leave me alone.”

  “I’m sorry,” Micha said, tilting his head so his ear was next to my face. “What was that?”

  “Leave.”

  My teeth gritted. I will not be intimidated!

  “Me.”

  Fists balled. I will stay strong!

  “Alone!”

  Micha jerked back from my shrill tone, and I jumped. I ducked under his arm and made a break for the door, but I didn’t make it far. My hand reached out, barely managed to touch the knob before I was grabbed and slammed back against the wall. This time with enough force to knock the wind out of my lungs.

  “Where the fuck do you think you’re going!” he ground out, pressing his heavy hand between my shoulder blades, to hold me in place.

  I coughed, fighting to pull air back into my chest. “On my way to church.”

  “Gonna go confess your sins, little mouse?” His deep rumble poured through me, making my head swim.

  How did he do that? Make a simple statement sound like the dirtiest porn on the planet?

  “I figured an exorcism was in order,”
I said, closing my eyes and concentrating on the cool feel of the stone wall. Anything but Micha’s clean masculine scent. “You know, since I’m being stalked by the Antichrist.”

  “Don’t get cute with me!”

  Maybe an exorcism wasn’t a bad idea? There was clearly something wrong with me.

  “I thought boys liked cute?”

  Why does he have to smell so damn good?

  Micha stilled behind me, dragging the silence on for what seemed like forever. I stood there, fighting to keep my shivering body from giving me away. When he did speak, I could feel the triumph in his tone. “You’re shaking, Mouse.”

  “It’s cold in here.”

  “Are you afraid of me?” He drug his finger down my spine, causing me to openly shiver. “Or are you afraid of how much you like it when I touch you?”

  Both!

  “I hate it when you touch me,” I grumbled, cursing my stupid teenage hormones.

  “Is that so?” His hand slid up my leg, over my skirt, and around my hip.

  I clamped my thighs together and closed my eyes. His fingers splayed out, covering most of my abdomen with his large hand. And heaven help me, I loved the weight of his warm palm.

  He leaned in and whispered, “I bet you’re wet right now.”

  I whimpered and pressed into the wall, praying for some higher power to grant me the ability to meld into the stone surface. Because he was right. The only thing stopping my arousal from seeping through my damp panties was how tightly I had my thighs squeezed together.

  “Fuck.” he growled, releasing a low throaty groan. “I can’t wait to find out if you taste as sweet as you smell.”

  My brain checked out – packed up and left the building. Micha Kessler wanted to taste me! My heart pounded wildly, as I took shallow breaths. This all had to be a dream, some sick way of fucking with my head. It couldn’t be real! It just couldn’t!

  “If you had any idea of the shit I’m going to do to you, you’d run and never look back.”