Aftereffect (The Order of Ravens and Wolves Book 1)

by T. L Hodel

  There was a quiet hiss, followed by grinding stone, as a door to my left pressed into the ground and slid out of the way.

  “You coming?” I asked Preston, who was leaning against the car with his ankles crossed.

  He lit a smoke and said, “You know I can’t.”

  I nodded and walked down the stone steps that led under Manning Keep. Soft lights lit up the stairwell as the door closed behind me. Some of the Kings argued for HQ to be moved to a more secure location, but I couldn’t argue with my father’s hide-in-plain-sight logic. Who would think to look for a secret society under ruins? Or a torture chamber under a cop shop?

  Once reaching the bottom of the stairs, I looked right, like I did every time I came here. At the end was a large oak door, intricately carved with wolves. Some were howling at the moon, while others hunted prey. I knew what was behind the raven door down the hallway to my right, but I don’t think anyone had been on the other side of that one.

  The raven door creaked open and my father stepped out. “Good evening son.”

  My eyes roamed over the sharp fangs of a howling wolf. “What’s in there?”

  “No one knows.” He shrugged and steered me through the King’s meeting room and down a hallway. “Like us, the wolves had marks to open their doors.”

  “So, copy the mark and open the door.”

  “A fine idea.” He sighed as if I’d just said something insignificant.

  It pissed me off when he dismissed me. I was the next King of Kings, and deserved a say in shit. Already had plans for his club. Ava and I were going to get rid of the girls and turn it into a BDSM club with high-priced yearly memberships and all sexual acts consensual. Already had a few rich pricks interested in purchasing memberships. By the time I was done with it, Malum wouldn’t be a bar with a brothel underneath. It would be a legit business with a much higher profit margin.

  “Tell me, son . . .” my father said. “How do you propose we get through that door, when all the information about it is on the other side?”

  We opened our door with a mark added to our raven tattoo that was only visible under certain lights. I’d get mine once I completed the task tonight.

  If the door was the problem, then get rid of it. “Knock it down.”

  “You’ve read the history on the wolves, correct?”

  I nodded.

  “Then you know they liked to booby trap things. If we force our way in there, then we could be destroying what’s on the other side. Besides, opening that door in any way other than intended would be . . . wrong.”

  And by wrong, he meant sacrilegious. Certain rules in the Order could be bent, but that wasn’t one of them.

  My father hummed and pushed open a large wooden door. “So, you see my dilemma.”

  That’s when I noticed the difference. Instead of photographs hung on the wall, there were paintings. The oldest was a group of seven men standing on the bluffs by the geysers. It wasn’t the old-fashioned suits or muskets hanging off their hips that caught my attention. It was one of the three scratched out names on the plaque below the painting. This one was still legible.

  Mathers.

  How did my father miss that? Maybe he didn’t? I thought he had a lot of information on Chase. Considering he was just a pawn to use against Riley.

  “What was the name of Chase’s shop? Mather’s Tattooing?”

  My father’s gaze briefly shifted to the painting in the hall. “Thinking about getting another tattoo, son?”

  Yeah, maybe I fucking am?

  “I’m afraid your self-mutilation will have to wait,” he said as we entered a room with the other Kings. “You’ll be rather busy tonight.”

  What the fuck was this? The walls were lined with various kegs – which I assumed to be alcohol based on the tinge in the air – there was a large vat that said Whitley Distilleries on the side in the middle of the room.

  My father passed me a glass of whiskey. “Welcome to your dominare la paura.”

  “Am I supposed to drink myself into a coma?” I asked, taking in the room.

  There was a pipe running in the side of the vat and another on the top, along with what looked like wires. What kind of fucking liquor did Preston’s father make in this thing?

  “Nothing quite so simple I’m afraid.” My father slipped the Order’s ceremonial black and purple robes over his shoulders, and then cocked a brow at me. “Shall we begin?”

  I shrugged and downed the whiskey, enjoying the way the alcohol burned down my throat and warmed my body.

  Dr. Creswell snorted and walked over. “Don’t underestimate us, boy,” he said, lifting my shirt and taping a small wire on my chest. “We’re more capable than you think.”

  “If you say so.” I sighed at the deeply embedded scowl on his face. If Silas didn’t learn to lighten up, the same angry lines on his father’s face would be permanently etched on his.

  “Alright, son,” my father said before he ushered me through the open door and into the vat. “You simply have to remain calm for fifteen minutes.”

  Great, should be done in fifteen minutes then.

  He pointed at the wire tapped to my chest. “We’ll be monitoring your heartrate.”

  I took one last look at the Kings, not sure if I liked the smirk on Dean Whitley face, and said, “Let’s get this shit over with.”

  “You will appreciate the thought that went into this when it’s over.”

  I highly doubted that. Imagination was one thing the Kings lacked, including my father. It was an interesting choice though. Using a vat as some sort of sensory deprivation tank. Which is what I assumed this was, based on the reinforced metal on the inside, and hissing click of the airtight door.

  I glanced around the dark interior and snickered. Was this the best they could do? Trapping me alone in the dark. Really, I expected more.

  ‘A gentle breeze . . .’

  What the fuck!

  I pushed off the wall and scoured the dark for the source of the sound.

  ‘It fills the sails of boats . . .’

  My pulse picked up and rage boiled through my veins. I hated this fucking song. My mother used to sing this shit to me when she tucked me in at night. She’d stare down, eyes shining with warmth and love. That was, of course, a lie. The selfish cunt wasn’t capable of love. She sure as hell was good at faking it though. I fucking fell for it.

  ‘Soon they will fly . . .’

  My father said she just wasn’t in her right mind. Bullshit!

  ‘Hushabye Mountain.’

  I kicked the side of the vat. The force of my strike vibrated loudly and somehow mingled with that infernal fucking voice.

  “Shut that shit off!” I yelled, kicking the vat again.

  Why the fuck did they have a recording of my mother? My fists clenched as I rolled my shoulders and released a long exhale. This is just a test. I can do this.

  ‘Sail far away . . .’

  Fuck!

  Finally, the song fucking ended. I could breathe. Should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. It started up again almost immediately. Only louder this time, so I could hear it over the water rushing in the bottom of the vat.

  “What the fuck!” I yelled, throwing my fists against the wall, pounding so hard I felt the skin tear on my knuckles.

  The pain didn’t bother me, nor did the warm blood dripping off my hand. The vat was filling up with water, lifting my body with it. I needed to get the fuck out of here! I couldn’t get trapped in a sinking tin can! Not again.

  Mase was getting so heavy. I couldn’t keep him above the water . . .

  I pounded furiously on the walls.

  We were sinking. Farther down into the darkness . . .

  “Let me out!” I screamed, using all my strength to try to break through the metal roof.

  It was so cold, I couldn’t stop shivering . . .

  “Please, just let me out.”

  “Mase, wake up!” I slapped him and frantically looked around. Everything
was black except for the inside of the car. Mase’s sleeping face was lit up by the interior lights. What did I do? He wouldn’t wake up and the water was coming in fast. “Mom?”

  “Shh,” she hushed from the driver’s seat. “Go to sleep, my sweet boy, and we’ll wake up on Hushabye Mountain.”

  How could she be so calm? Blood was rushing out of her nose and we were sinking into the lake. She drove us in here. Why would she do that? Didn’t she love us? Weren’t we good sons?

  But she didn’t do anything. Just laid her head back and started singing, “A gentle breeze . . .”

  The lights flickered and the car creaked. I looked at Mase still asleep in his seat. What was wrong with him? Even the chill of the water wasn’t waking him up. I had to keep him warm. Dropping my hands into the cold water, I unbuckled him and hugged him close.

  The car was quickly filling up, and I couldn’t hear my mother’s voice anymore. She just sat there and let herself drown. With Mase tucked under my arm, I tried opening the door. When that didn’t work, I tried rolling the window down. Tears rolled down my face as I stared at my little brother.

  “I’m sorry, Mase.” I was supposed to protect him, but I didn’t know what to do.

  Light flickered off the trophy I won at the go-cart track.

  “Hang on, Mase.” I said, propping him up against the back of the passenger seat. “I’ll be right back.”

  It took three times, diving under the water to grab it. I swam over to the window and began bashing it.

  “I’ll get us out.”

  My arms ached and felt heavy, but I couldn’t stop. This would work. It had too . . .

  I pounded on the roof, fists raw and aching.

  This wasn’t my mother’s car. Mase was fine. I smashed that window and pulled him out of the lake, the same time our father and Dr. Creswell showed up. Their headlights were the last thing I remembered seeing.

  The Kings succeeded. I was officially freaked the fuck out. Trapped in another tin can full of water, with my mother’s god forsaken voice blaring in my ears. I couldn’t help but snicker. If only Riley could see me now. Bet she’d love this shit. The sad fact was, she’d probably be the first to dive in after me. Ever the hero my mouse.

  A week after my mother’s funeral – which my father made me attend – Brandon decided to taunt me at the park. Riley came out of nowhere and punched him in the jaw. She still had the cast on her leg from when I pushed her off the swing, but that didn’t slow her down. She punched him three more times and kicked him with her broken leg.

  I could still see her blue dress flapping in the breeze as she rained her fury down on him. Watching Brandon get taken down by a little girl was better than anything I could’ve done. I might’ve even stopped giving Riley such a hard time, if she hadn’t opened her fucking mouth.

  “I’m sure your mom loved you very much. You must miss her.”

  I pushed her down on top of Brandon and threw dirt in her face. Might’ve even kicked her a couple of times before I walked away. I hated that sad fucking look in her eyes. I just hated her. She thought she didn’t have to fall in line with everyone else. And I tried to make her. Hurt her, tried to destroy her confidence, and show her there were consequences for her actions, but she was too fucking proud. I hated her. At least . . . I thought I did?

  Now I wasn’t so sure. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way she looked coming on my fingers. Plump, pink lips parted as she threw her head back and screamed in extasy. The way her pussy clenched down on my fingers, along with the sweet yet sinful scent in the air. Fucking perfect.

  I was drug out of my thoughts, when a loud click reverberated through the vat and the water began to recede. My chest heaved with heavy breaths, as I rode it down. The second my feet touched the ground, I collapsed, and lay in the puddle on the ground listening to the drips coming off my soaked clothes and hair. I barely had the strength to roll over when my father opened the door. Probably a good thing, considering all I wanted to do was fucking hit him.

  “Congratulations, son,” he said gazing down at me. “You passed the test.” He squatted to my level and cocked his head. “I know you don’t want to hear this right now, but it appears Riley may have run. She isn’t at home.”

  Anger surged through me, giving me the energy boost I needed. I peeled myself off the floor and stormed out of the vat. “Fucking find her!”

  “And when we do?”

  I glared back at my father. “She won’t fucking run again.”

  Words were one thing, now it was time to show my mouse who she belonged to.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Riley

  I ducked behind a large firebush, narrowly avoiding the security guard’s flashlight. Okay, so maybe sneaking out to paint Ashworth wasn’t my best idea. I was just about packed up when some guy came out of no-where, shining his light in my eyes, and yelling at me to stop. That was a half hour ago. I thought Mr. Kessler had good security, but this guy . . . he took school safety seriously. I guess that was a good thing, just not necessarily when right now. But hey, at least no one would kidnap me from school.

  “I know you’re out there,” the security guard called out, scanning his flashlight across the landscape. “Don’t make me call the cops.”

  Shit.

  If my dad saw the south wall, I’d be on house lockdown for the remainder of my teenage life. I peeked over the hedge at the large cheerleader I had painted. Totally worth it! Especially considering Naomi was my muse. To be fair, I think I did her justice. She looked great. Hourglass figure, and manicured nails. I even got the brown highlights in her hair. The reflection in the mirror she was looking at, now that was another story. Something told me Naomi wouldn’t appreciate the rotted face with half the jaw showing.

  The trash in my locker was bad enough. Then she had to go and flaunt Micha in my face. Hanging off him this afternoon and smiling at me, like she knew he was ignoring me. Not that I was jealous . . . Okay, I might’ve been a bit jealous, but that wasn’t the point. Naomi walked around here, making people’s life hell. People like poor little Harper. Someone had to put her in her place.

  Now if I could just get the hell out of here.

  My chance came when the guard turned the corner. I jumped up, and dashed across the field, straight into the forested area bordering the school. Falling back against a large tree, I took a second to catch my breath. This whole thing was oddly exhilarating. My heart was pumping a mile a minute, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t have long to enjoy the moment. The security guard came running back, flashlight lighting up a dark patch between the trees. I groaned. Did this guy have super sonic hearing powers? Pushing off the tree, I darted left. There was one place he’d never find me.

  My heart didn’t calm down until I saw the outline of a familiar bridge through the tree line. Or what used to be a bridge. Other than a stone arch in the middle of an overgrown field, there wasn’t much left. I stepped out into the field and took in the scent of wildflowers.

  No one really cared about this place, or they didn’t know it was here. Leaving it to us rejects. Some people said this used to be a plantation house and the ghosts of slaves hung from that very bridge haunted the area. I don’t know about haunted. If there was anything here, I’d have seen it. That bridge was covered in graffiti, most of which was mine – had to hone my skills someway – and I hadn’t run into Casper yet. We did find some neat stuff though. A few old plates, a doll and some pictures of a guy named Causgrove, which led us to start calling our little hideout the Causgrove.

  I slung my backpack over my shoulder and tromped through the tall grass. The roar of the geysers echoed from the nearby bluffs. The only thing separating the Causgrove from the bluffs was a small forest, and on a clear day the red water could be seen over the treetops. There was a large cave over there that was a popular party spot for the kids in town. Some of my friends would sneak in the forest and watch them, not me, though. Learned that
lesson the last time Micha spotted me. They had some sort of mud pit set up for girls to wrestle in, and let’s just say, it took forever to wash the mud out of my hair.

  The soft glow of a crackling fire caused my lips to tip up. Tico must be here. When things got bad at home – his dad liked to smack him around – he slept on the rundown red couch under the bridge. I hadn’t seen him all summer, and rushed forward.

  “Tico!” I sang excitedly. “You wouldn’t believe –”

  My words died on my tongue. Tico wasn’t sitting on the couch. Micha was. I swallowed my gasp. The soft glow from the firelight cast an eerie shadow over his face, deepening his scowl and blackening his eyes. I referred to him as the devil, but right now, he looked like it. His commanding presence took over, dwarfing the small rundown couch he sat on, and silencing the roar of the geysers in the distance. He was all I could see hear and feel. There was nothing but the king sitting regally on his throne.

  “Expecting someone?”

  He had the same tone in his voice he did this afternoon. It was terrifying watching him go off on Evan, yet I couldn’t look away. I heard every sickening crunch, and witness every blow. I could still hear the squelch of Evans blood face when Micha’s fist rained down on it.

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “What about Tico?”

  Micha’s gaze shifted, and that’s when I noticed the dark head of hair poking out of a sleeping bag in the corner. I didn’t think, I just moved, needing to see if Tico was okay.

  “Don’t.” Micha’s words halted me. “If you so much as move in that direction, your friend won’t wake up in the morning.”

  So that meant he was alive, but was he okay. “What did you do to him?”