The Mask of the Damned (The Damned of Lost Creek Book 2)

by Danae Ayusso

  When I was done, I sat back against the wall and pulled my knees to my chest and hugged them.

  It isn’t possible.

  There is no way it could be.

  Price was there so many times when my Frenchman was…

  If he were real, Price would have seen him. Price would have chased him off or killed him, would sic the cops on him for trespassing at the very least.

  There’s no way he’s real…

  If he’s real, that means I’ve been talking about my crazy out loud to someone that could use it against me, use it against Price. Isn’t that what he kept warning me about?

  The stall door slowly swung open from the toe of the black leather boot that pushed against it.

  “That doesn’t look comfortable,” he said, eying me.

  Perhaps ignoring him will make him go away.

  Isn’t that how you get rid of demons? Either ignore them until they fade away into the darkness in the back of your mind and existence, where they only reside in shadows that can’t hurt you if you stay in the light? Or, at the very least, exorcise them?

  “I know you can hear me,” he said.

  I jutted my chin out in defiance and refused to look at him, to acknowledge him, or even breathe through my nose so I didn’t smell him…

  It made tasting him on my tongue that much harder to ignore but thankfully throwing up for twenty-minutes helped with that.

  “You can’t hide in here forever,” he said, squatting down in front of me.

  What would it take for him to get the hint that I don’t want him around me? That I don’t want him in my life? That I don’t need him?!

  Where’s Justice when I need a body dumped in the woods?

  “Eventually Price will come looking for you,” he informed me, his eyes moving over me many times. “The purple is interesting and different… Your ears are bleeding,” he said then moved in a blur that scared me and I shrieked and covered my arms over my head and clenched my eyes shut, huddling into a protective ball.

  Those that move like demons always hurt me.

  That’s the only thing I’m certain of…

  Well, that and non-demons don’t move in blurs of movement!

  I jumped, a shriek of surprise breaking past my lips, when something warm and wet caressed along my ear.

  “There isn’t much,” he said, carefully cleaning the blood up before pulling my arms away then turned my head so he could clean the blood from the other ear.

  He was so close to me, so close that I could feel each breath he exhaled caress my skin with warmth. His touch was tender and earnest, and it was accompanied by heat that seemingly went from him to me and permeated my skin.

  “Has the cat got your tongue?” he teasingly asked with a heavy French accent; his wide, full lips pulling up on one side as he watched what he was doing more intently than needed.

  “La parole est d'argent, mais le silence est d'or,” I retorted in a whisper, not entirely sure where that came from.

  Softly he chuckled. “Oui. Silence is golden, speech silver, but you are wearing platinum.”

  “You’re not real,” I whispered, struggling to swallow the lump in my throat.

  His brow furrowed. “Real compared to what?” he asked, though he didn’t sound interested in the answer in the least. “There, all cleaned up. I like that top on you. You have the lithe frame that can pull it off.”

  That isn’t normal, even for my crazy ass.

  “What is going on?” I pleaded.

  “Things are complicated,” he said.

  “You’re real?”

  “Flesh and blood,” he confirmed.

  “Were you real before?”

  Softly he chuckled, tossing the wet, blood dotted paper towel in the trash. “No, I was born only most recently,” he said.

  He stood and offered me a hand.

  I shook my head.

  He nodded, as if he understood, then stepped back, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Things are complicated,” he said, watching me pull myself to my feet, using the wall for support. “We’ve never met. We’re not friends. I’ve never seen you before, not until flex hour. Do you understand

  Unable to stop myself, I shook my head.

  In a blur of movement, he was in my face, shoving me back against the wall.

  “It would be in your best interest if you figured it out, and quickly,” he sneered, his accent flaring. “You cannot begin to fathom the repercussions from their cognizance. Price did not want your last name known for a reason!”

  “It was Justice,” I stammered. “I had no hand in it and I couldn’t stop her.”

  His top lip snarled. “It has already begun. Thank your other half for that,” he sneered, stepping back.

  “What has begun?” I demanded.

  He shook his head and headed to the door.

  Suddenly I was in front of him.

  How that happened, I don’t know, but I’m too pissed to try to figure it out.

  “What has begun?” I demanded, shoving him as hard as I could and he flew through the air before smashing into the far wall.

  He picked himself up from the floor then smoothed his shirt down before dusting plaster dust from the back of his head. “It doesn’t matter. There isn’t anything you can do to stop it now.”

  In a blur of movement, he was in my face, his hand wrapping around my throat and he was picking me up before slamming me against the bathroom door.

  I smirked. “Is that all you have, Bitch? My crackwhore mom hit harder than that,” I sneered.

  He cocked an eyebrow, his hold on my throat lessening but he didn’t remove his hand. “I didn’t do that on purpose,” he said.

  “Liar,” I snarled.

  He closed his eyes before shaking his head. “That is the one thing I will forever have to be,” he said in a quiet voice that disarmed me.

  Suddenly he was gone and I dropped to the bathroom floor on my ass.

  “What in the hell just happened?” I asked, looking around, confused.

  My school bag was hanging on one of the stall doors, waiting for me, and I was alone. The drywall on the far wall was caved in some and the paint was cracking, and I’m certain it wasn’t like that earlier.

  “This can’t be happening, not now… Not again.”

  Did you have a breakdown without me knowing?

  “I think this goes beyond breakdown, Sis,” I said, grabbing my bag. “I think he just broke up with me.”

  Uh who?

  “The French one,” I mumbled.

  That’s a good thing. It means that there’s just the two of us in here now. Right?

  I shook my head. “Yeah, not so much apparently,” I said.

  I need to call Price to let him know what Justice did and warn him of what the French one said. Then I’m going to chew Price’s ass for not telling me that the French one was real!

  Shut up. He’s real?

  “Flesh and blood, and shitty boyband hair.”

  This is not going to end well.

  “Yup. Time to see what your little daddy’s girl routine is going to cost me this time,” I grumbled, pulling the door open.

  I jumped back, startled.

  Standing in the hallway across from me, leaning against the wall, was a woman cleaning grease from under her black painted nails with a knife.

  “You Mikhail?” she asked, not bothering to look up.

  “Yeah. Are you going to shank me?” I asked. “I have to warn you, I’m not that easy to kill and you’ll only get one shot.”

  The corners of her thin, black painted lips pulled up into a smirk.

  “Not going to kill you,” she said. “I’m Remi and Mr. Meyers sent me to find you and escort you to shop. You pregnant or something? Is that why you were puking your guts out?” she asked, looking up at me. “Or you’re bulimic. You’re skinny as hell.”

  I shook my head, joining her in the hallway.

  “No on both accounts,” I assured her. “I got some rathe
r troubling news then a douche bag with shitty boyband hair invaded my space. I don’t like people in my space or being touched, both of which he did.”

  Remi nodded and closed the switchblade before pocketing it. “I feel you. That particular douche is exceptionally bad,” she agreed.

  “You know who it was?”

  “Yeah. Mr. Meyers told me what happened… He thought I’d be a better choice to get you from the shitter because I’m a chick, and since I’m the only one in shop, besides you, it defaulted to me. Isn’t that special?”

  I have a girl crush.

  She’s bald and we aren’t bi or lesbian.

  She’s somewhat hot in a gothic way… I’m guessing broken home.

  Shut up.

  “Besides, that douche rubs everyone the wrong way,” Remi said, pulling my attention. “He’s supposed to be in Paris on some scholarship or something in art. He has enough credits to graduate so he was going to hang out and paint naked bitches or something in his homeland at some art school Principal Wallace and Miss Lea got him accepted to. Personally, I think they just wanted the prick out of their hair. Then, he blows the opportunity off and comes back to this shithole for some reason. I swear he’s not playing with a full deck, regardless of what his grades suggest.”

  Who is she talking about?

  I’m not sure, but I have a sneaking suspicion it’s my waking nightmare in the flesh.

  “Come on. We still have twenty-minutes left of shop and I need a smoke,” she said, motioning for me to follow her.

  Not threatened, and feeling strangely safe with the knife wielding bald girl, I followed her down the stairs to the lower level.

  “I have to warn you,” Remi said when we started down a long hallway. “He’s in shop. As much as I wish I could say he’s only there to fuck off like the rest of the assholes in the class, I can’t. His artistic ability transcends to all mediums, apparently, and he’ll have his nose buried in a sketchpad before he starts whatever State winning project he’s going to be working on all semester.”

  “Who?” I whispered.

  Remi stopped outside the metals doors at the end of the hallway. “Draven Van Zul,” she said, as if it were obvious.

  My eyes widened.

  My Frenchman is Draven Van Zul? The one that beat Shep up? Kin to my father’s arch nemesis?!

  This couldn’t get any worse if you tried, Sis.

  Remi gave me a look. “Dude, are you going to puke again?” she asked. “Don’t puke on me. This is the only clean outfit I have.”

  I shook my head. “I threw everything I’ve ever eaten up already,” I whispered. “Draven Van Zul?” I asked. “Shitty boyband hair, round muscular ass, cocksure smile, sporadic French accent?” I wanted to clarify.

  “Yeah, you met him in flex hour. Planted that big ass of his on your desk I heard, you freaked out and ran, he went after you. I’m surprised you weren’t fucking like wild animals in the bathroom or something,” she said.

  I shivered.

  “Like I said, surprised,” she said with a chuckle. “Not many have the balls to tell Draven Van Zul to fuck off. With merely the cock of an eyebrow and a smirk, he can get a woman’s panties off. He’s a man whore with a capital M and W. Y’know what I mean?”

  Yes, yes we do. We knew many man whores in Philly, so why you tripping out? You didn’t let him play with our delicate bits, did you?

  Delicate bits? Shut up!

  It’s the least colorful option and you know as well as I that I don’t like that point to where they touched you on the doll shit, so you get delicate bits. Besides, what’s the big deal? So you got played by a player. Get over it. It happens.

  Not to us… Not to me!

  You can’t blame yourself.

  Why are you being so fucking supportive?

  Because I’m trying to hide the crazy you are sharing with the world.

  No, you’re trying to be nice because you think Price is going to be pissed at you for revealing our last name, that’s why.

  And if it is?

  Uh… That’s as far as I figured out.

  She chuckled. Just try to reel the crazy in and ignore him just as I do.

  How do you do that though?

  Honestly, Sis? I haven’t a clue. Just keep your mouth shut and don’t look at him, don’t talk to him, don’t touch him, don’t do anything but give the fucker the cold shoulder. Okay?

  I can totally do that.

  You are so going to suck at this.

  Remi cleared her throat.

  “Yeah?” I asked.

  “You were totally out of it there for a minute,” she said. “Are you high as fuck right now?”

  I shook my head. “No, crazy. Talking to myself, arguing I guess, about how to approach class with that man whore.”

  Remi chuckled. “Just ignore him. It’ll drive him crazy. Besides, you’re way too good for that bastard,” she informed me, opening the door and waved me inside. “I’ve seen the bitches he’s thrown it in and not one of them I’d touch with the borrowed dick of my worst enemy.”

  “Gee thanks,” I said with a chuckle and walked into class with her.

  Mr. Meyers offered a small wave from the desk in the corner.

  “Sorry,” I apologized. “I didn’t want to puke all over your classroom.”

  He nodded his understanding. “Not a problem, Mikhail. Remi’s the shop foreman so she’ll show you around. If you have any questions that she can’t answer, bring them,” he said with a wink then returned his attention to his magazine.

  Shep joined us. “You okay, Mikey?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Yeah, just peachy.”

  Remi pushed him away from us. “Shoo, Blondie. I have a tour to give,” she said, motioning for me to follow her.

  Shep chuckled, nodding his understanding.

  “Arc welding booths are back there,” Remi said, motioning with her chin towards the back of the shop. “Forge is over there, material is in the closet and you’ll need me or Mr. Meyers to unlock it for you to get whatever you need for your project. The Tungsten Inert Gas welder is closed to new students… Mainly because the man whore you’re trying not to look for had Mommy and Daddy pay for it his sophomore year and it’s for more artistic welding. As much as I can’t stand the prick, his metalwork is beyond words and pieces of art. First lesson you’ll have will be on oxy acetylene welding,” she said, grabbing one of the welding torches from the empty booths next to her on the side of the large shop. “Any questions?” she mumbled, a cigarette dangling between her lips before she lit it with the torch.

  “When’s woodshop?” I asked.

  Smoke rolled from her nose as she turned the torch off before hanging it back up. “Second quarter. The school year is broken into four quarters: two in each semester. November starts the second quarter, right after Thanksgiving break. The woodshop is the next shop over and is closed up until second quarter,” she explained, smoking rolling from her nose.

  That makes sense, I suppose. I really wished Price was here now though, because I needed to talk to him, like now.

  I looked around, telling myself that I wasn’t crazy and that I wasn’t looking for Draven Van Zul of all people. That was when I noticed the bag on the table. It was one of the bags Price had taken to the Child Services Division for Foster kids and protective custody wards of the State.

  Remi leaned against the table, as if trying to block my view of the plain bag, and crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s up?” she asked.

  “Where do I start?” I rhetorically asked. “I wasn’t ready for this,” I admitted, hopping up on the table across from her. “High school and… Yeah, I wasn’t ready for this.”

  “You’ve never been to school before?”

  I shook my head. “No. If you understood where I came from, you’d get it.” I looked around her to the bag. “Then again, I think you’d get it.”

  To my surprise, she nodded her understanding. “My mom’s a drunk that drank the electri
c bill money away again. Because of that, it got me a one-way ticket to a foster home until the trailer is inhabitable again. Not much of a reprieve though. The old fucker I’m stuck with keeps sneaking in the room I have to share with two other people. One guess where he’s been trying to put his hands,” she said before taking another drag from her cigarette.

  “No guess needed,” I admitted. “Been there and done that, a few times, but usually it was while crackwhore of the year was in the same room, watching. Isn’t that special? The bitch liked to watch apparently.”

  Wait, why am I telling her any of this?

  Remi nodded, taking another drag before flicking the butt away. “Shitty. Not much you can do about it now though.”

  “No, no there isn’t,” I agreed. “You want to come home with me tonight?” I asked.

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Ooh, so you swing both ways, too, huh?”

  “Not really. I figured I’d reserve my bi-curious nature for college or something,” I said and she laughed. “I have a safe home,” I said when the bell rang. “I now know what it feels like to be safe, and I think you should as well.”

  Remi grabbed her bag from the table. “I’m not a fucking charity case,” she informed me.

  Neither am I.

  “Fine, a slumber party with pillow fights and more food than you could possibly ever eat,” I said, getting in her face.

  To my surprise, she chuckled.

  “Works for me. Which class you heading to?” she asked, motioning towards the door.

  That’s going to be interesting. I am not sharing a bed with her and that snoring mound of fur.

  We have enough guestrooms. I’ll tell Price so you don’t have to.

  “English lit block,” I said.

  Remi chuckled. “I’ll show you to class, Baby Girl.”

  When we reached Dillon’s class, I pulled Remi to a stop. “Will you tell Dillon, Miss Shepherd, that I’ll be late?” I asked. “I have to call in.”

  Remi chuckled. “Probation officer, huh?”

  “Grams,” I said, and she laughed.

  Remi nodded and headed into the classroom as the bell rang.

  I pulled my cell phone out as I headed down the hall towards the restroom in the opposite direction.