Possessed: A reverse harem bully romance (Kings of Miskatonic Prep Book 3)

by Steffanie Holmes

  As I licked a drip of chocolate ice cream off my hand, something occurred to me. “Trey, how did you pay for these ice creams?”

  Trey flashed me a black card. “With my money.”

  “But you don’t have money. You’ve lived locked away in that school for twenty years. That card can’t possibly work anymore.”

  “This is the kind of card that doesn’t expire,” Trey slipped the card back into his pocket. “There’s so much money in this account I could buy a house if I wanted to. It was my expense account from happier times. I checked it in a machine at Arkham and the money’s still there. Dad hasn’t touched it.”

  “Your father has access to this account? He could track the purchase to us.” I gaped at him. How could he be so stupid?

  “Relax. My father has so much money in so many different accounts, he’s not going to notice a tiny ice cream purchase. He has no idea I still have this card. He’ll have forgotten all about it. Now, eat your ice cream before it melts. Let’s go back to Deborah’s place. I bet the dogs could use a rest.”

  Trey’s clipped tone dictated the end of the discussion. I didn’t share his certainty about Vincent’s lack of interest, but I couldn’t do anything about it now. He’d done the damage, now we just had to hope Vincent wouldn’t pick up on our location.

  Trey better be doing a fuckton of ‘hoping,’ because I was all out of hopes to give.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was weird hanging out in someone’s house while they weren’t there, but the fully-stocked kitchen cupboards and the dogs enthusiastic (if slobbery) excitement soon put me at ease. Trey spent the rest of the day playing with the dogs on the deck. It was amazing to watch him come alive as he rubbed bellies and threw balls and sticks for them. I found stacks of medical books on Deborah’s shelves and cracked them open, surprising myself by how much I understood just from listening to Gail’s descriptions of her lab.

  “Why are you reading those?” Trey asked as he came inside for a snack, three happy canines circling his heels.

  I set down the book. “I don’t know. I guess… I find it interesting. I wonder if I might have been a chemist or a phlebotomist or a pathologist if I had another life. If I’d graduated from a different school.”

  Trey’s ice eyes swept over the text, hardening as they lifted to meet mine. “You could still be those things.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, right. Even if I do survive my year at Derleth, which is unlikely, then I doubt any respectable college will accept my diploma – if I earned a diploma, which is even more unlikely.”

  I realized as I spoke I sounded just like Trey did earlier, quashing his dreams of being an engineer before he’d even had a chance to try, all because of shit he felt he had no control over.

  Trey must’ve realized it too. He pounded my book with his fist, his eyes flashing. “Don’t sacrifice your future for me, Hazel. I don’t want that. You should run as far as you can from me, from Derleth. I could wire you some money. Get yourself into a good school, graduate with honors, live your life the way you were supposed to before we fucked it up for you.”

  “Yeah, that’s not happening.” I gripped the spine of the book so hard my knuckles turned white. “I’m staying right here.”

  “No. I forbid it.” Trey’s face twisted with rage.

  “You can’t forbid shit. I’m a fugitive now. A fugitive with no high school diploma and a bargain with a cosmic god hanging over my head. Getting into medical school isn’t even on my radar. I’m not leaving you guys to fight this yourselves. I care too fucking much, and even if I didn’t, I have to stay and fight because it’s my future on the line, too.”

  Deborah arrived home, diffusing the tension flowing between us with two heaving bags of Chinese takeout. Trey peered into the containers, apprehensively sniffing the contents. “What’s this?” he demanded. “I’ve been to China. This isn’t Chinese food.”

  “Poor little rich boy. He’s never had food served from cardboard cartons before,” I explained to Deborah as I shoved a heap of sweet and sour pork and moo shu vegetables onto his plate.

  Trey gulped down the food like he hadn’t eaten a mountain of ice cream, and loaded up his plate with seconds. I leaned over and wiped a smudge of sauce from his cheek. Away from Derleth and all the trappings of wealth he wore so perfectly, Trey was so much more… human.

  I liked it. I hated how much I liked it.

  Deborah reached under the table and pulled out a thin book. “I have something to show you both.” She set the book on the table and opened the cover.

  I recognized the symbols dotting the pages as sigils – a ritual drawing that denoted the names of entities or the patterns of a spell. Between the symbols, delicate watercolor illustrations showed animals playing in the trees or detailed line drawings of plants and flowers. It reminded me a little of Parris’ skin-bound grimoire, except prettier.

  “This book belonged to one of my ancestors,” Deborah explained, turning the page. I peered at the image of a deer wreathed in a border of flowers and herbs. “She was a great magic worker, but she wasn’t content to dabble in healing potions and midwifery – the types of ‘soft’ magic usually reserved for women. She was interested in power – especially the power of what we now term a soul. She wanted to know how to obtain power, wield it, and redistribute it from those who had it to those who didn’t. A lot of her writings read like proto-feminism – shocking ideas for a time when even being a literate woman with ideas would likely get you killed. This was her grimoire – written and illustrated in her hand and the hands of her descendants. It’s been passed down through the women of my family for generations.”

  “It’s beautiful,” I breathed. “Why are you showing it to us?”

  “Because my ancestor was Rebecca Nurse. This is her grimoire.”

  “I know. Zehra had your name on a family tree. But why didn’t you think to show us this before?”

  Deborah paused. I knew there was something else she wasn’t telling us. Unease prickled up my spine. I trusted her, and she was keeping secrets from us. “I needed time to think about whether you require it. I thought it might just be a coincidence – you sought me out because I worked with Hermia, not because of my ancestors.”

  “Don’t you think that seems like an unlikely coincidence?”

  “Not necessarily. I grew up in Arkham. Many of the families in the area have been here for centuries. Descendants of Parris’ cult still inhabit the area, including my own. Many members of the Eldritch Club, including Trey’s father, are descendants of the cult.”

  “Did you show this to Zehra?”

  A shadow passed over Deborah’s eyes – a flicker so fast I barely registered it before it was gone. She closed the book and pushed it across the table to me. “I didn’t. I knew she would want to take it with her. I tried to take photographs of the pages to send her, but they all come out blank – something magical in the binding doesn’t allow it to be copied. This is the most precious thing I own – a record of the magic flowing through my veins. And look,” Deborah opened the book and pointed to an entry at the back. “This is my sister’s handwriting. She wrote it before she ran away from home. She was fifteen. It’s the last thing I have of hers. I didn’t want to part with it unless it was absolutely necessary.”

  I folded my arms and glared across the table at her. “It’s necessary.”

  “I realise that now.” Tears pooled in the corners of Deborah’s eyes. “I didn’t know… how bad things had gotten at the school. I think you need it more than I do.”

  I reached gingerly for the book. “It’s not bound in Rebecca’s skin, is it?”

  Deborah touched the cover with affection. “Nope, just ordinary leather.”

  “I like this woman already.” I reached out and touched the book. As my fingers brushed the carved leather, a flicker of flame darted between my fingers like an electric shock.

  “Just remember, Hazel.” Deborah’s eyes bore into mine. “The power Rebecca speaks
of takes no sides and offers no moral judgment. It’s you who must decide how it is used. You seem to have a particular connection to Rebecca’s magic, but be careful of the power you wield. It can come back to haunt you.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  With our test results still in Gail’s hands, there was nothing else Deborah could do for us. She begged us to stay with her a final night, where she stuffed us so full of burgers and fries and apple pie and ice cream that I felt sure I’d burst. The next morning she sent us off with brand new cellphones, a supply of snacks, and backpacks stuffed with new clothes.

  “Call or message me with any new information,” she said. “I will do the same. If you find those keys again, I’ll try to find a way to get into Hermia’s lab and see what she’s been up to. We’ll get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, you two look after yourselves.”

  “We will,” Trey promised, embracing her and accepting slobbery kisses from the dogs. I shook Deborah’s hand, not yet willing to give over my trust to her. I felt guilty about doubting her after all her generosity, but I didn’t like that she’d waited to tell us Rebecca’s relationship with her family. She was keeping something from us, and I didn’t understand what, or why.

  “What do we do now?” Trey asked as we hiked through the forest in the direction of the bus stop in the next town over. I hiked the backpack on my shoulder, the corner of Rebecca’s grimoire jabbing into my spine. “California? Hawaii? Budapest? I’ve always wanted to see Prague…”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You know we’re not going to Prague. We’re heading to the school.”

  “Be serious, Hazel. We’re lying low somewhere until we get the test results—”

  “No. We’re going back to Derleth Academy.”

  Trey stopped in his tracks. His fingers circled my wrist, jerking me back. “No way. It’s suicide. Dunwich Institute will be shitting themselves over letting you escape. They’re going to be looking everywhere for you. My father, too. Remember those assassins he sent after Zehra? I bet he’s got them on speed dial.”

  Once again, Vincent Bloomberg spoiled everything. I jerked my arm from Trey’s grasp.

  “So? I’ve told you, I’m not abandoning everyone just because of a little death threat. Besides, they won’t expect us to return to school. They don’t have enough imagination for that.”

  “Right. Because that would be stupid.” Trey looked exasperated. “And we’re not stupid. Although right now you’re doing an excellent impression.”

  I punched his arm. “Maybe you can live with yourself running off to Budapest and carrying a giant hunk of rock around with you for the rest of your life, but I’m not abandoning Greg or Andre, or Quinn either.”

  “And Ayaz?”

  I looked away. “He already abandoned us.”

  “Maybe not.” Trey sighed. He fingers knitted in mine, and he squeezed a little. I looked up at him and dared a smile.

  “Of course I want to save him too, as long as he accepts my help. What are you thinking, rich boy?”

  “I’m thinking that you’re an exasperating, headstrong, stubborn person and that if I wasn’t already dead, spending time with you would rapidly make me so.”

  I grinned. “You’re welcome.”

  Trey sighed again. “So we’re going back. Quinn will be pleased. Can we stop at a store? He asked me to bring him back something called a Twinkie. Apparently, they’re his favorite food from when he was a kid.”

  “Quinn’s still a kid.” I grinned. And I can’t believe you don’t know what a Twinkie is. “Thank you.”

  “You won’t be thanking me when we’re staring down into the god’s abyss, right before they throw us in.” Trey linked his arm with mine. “Fine. I should know better by now than to argue with you. Back to that hellhole we go.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Trey and I hitchhiked back to Arkham with a truck driver delivering food to the general store. He kept teasing Trey about wearing his hoodie pulled tight around his face the whole time. “You’re Kenny from South Park,” he kept saying. It was some cartoon I’d seen on Hulu but never watched, so I didn’t get the reference, but Trey seemed to know exactly what the guy was talking about. I guess it must’ve started back when he entered Miskatonic Prep.

  I forgot sometimes that Trey’s life had this huge pop-culture black hole. The only shows he remembered were from 20 years ago. He’d never seen Stranger Things or American Horror Story or even Supernatural. I wished we’d had more time so we could have watched movies and TV shows together and I could have introduced him to Netflix. I bet he still thought TV had commercials.

  When I freed him, we were going to have some serious fun.

  If I freed him.

  After waving goodbye to our driver, we peeled off the main road as quickly as we could and entered the woods. My stomach twisted as we began the long climb up the peninsula. We passed by a strange rock formation – a jagged circle of sharp points ejected from the earth beneath like predator’s teeth. Trey leaned in between them and deposited his rock in a small gap, hiding it beneath a pile of dead leaves and moss. “I don’t need to keep carrying that around now,” he said, picking up an old t-shirt wrapped around another object.

  “What’s that?” I pointed to the damp bundle.

  Trey unrolled the edge of the t-shirt, showing me the collection of hammers and chisels wrapped inside. “I stole them from the maintenance shed,” he said proudly. “We’re going to need them.”

  After twenty minutes, we both puffed as we clambered over craggy rocks and scrambled through dense forest. Nothing looked familiar, but I guessed I’d only ever traveled this far from Derleth blindfolded, under cover of darkness, or sedated. After what seemed like hours, we mounted a wooded ridge and I could just make out the roof of the dormitory building sticking out above the trees.

  The moon was high by the time we reached the edge of the fields. Trey stood behind the row of rose bushes where we hid after tagging the gymnasium wall. I looked over the field – they’d painted the wall a blazing white to cover over our graffiti. A line of charred earth burned through the middle of the field, breaking the symmetry of the space with its cruel irregularity. That’s from the fire in my dream.

  My dream was real. My fire could reach beyond my subconscience and impact the real world.

  What.

  The.

  Actual.

  Fuck?

  I didn’t have time to ponder it in any great depth. Trey turned to me, and the look on his face was unreadable. “What do we do now?”

  “We’re going to see my friends. Quinn told me there were three secret passages into the school, and Andre and I found an additional one that leads to Ms. West’s lab. The swinging mirror was bricked up, and I don’t like our chances with the icehouse. Where are the others?”

  “Neither of them will work,” Trey said. “One goes into the faculty wing, the other one comes out near the gymnasium, and it’s filled with those… shadow things.”

  I shuddered at the memory of the shadows that attacked me in the gym. “No thanks.”

  “Agreed. It’s why we never use them. Show me the bricks. We’re going to have to get through them. Luckily, I’m now a champion at chiseling.”

  We picked our way back through the woods to the edge of the cliff, where rough stone steps led down to the ancient pleasure garden. At the top of the stairs, Trey thrust out an arm, holding me back.

  “What gives? You almost—”

  The fierce look in Trey’s eyes silenced me. It was then that I heard the voices rising from the garden below. Students laughing. Not just any students. I recognized Courtney’s unmistakable purr.

  We’re not alone.

  Unable to stop myself, I laid down the tools and flattened myself against the ground. I drew out Zehra’s knife from my boot and gripped it in my hand as I peered over the edge of the cliff down onto the pleasure garden.

  “Oh, Ayaz!” Courtney squealed in delight. She stood on the edge of the grotto, her
panther-like body clad only in a white bikini. She held up her hands to her face as a figure in the water splashed her playfully. The figure laughed, his voice like velvet.

  Ayaz.

  The sight of him made heat flame inside me. He looked amazing, his torso glistening with water and painted with tattoos, his dark hair lost against the murky water. He picked up a squealing Courtney, threw her over his shoulders, and dragged her into the water. I leaned out further, twisting my head to see, but they’d gone under the rock shelf and deeper into the grotto.

  To the place he had kissed me, when I told him I’d seen Zehra. How can he be there with her? How—

  A hand grabbed my shoulder, yanked me back into the trees. Trey frowned at me as he clutched me against his chest, sandwiching my arms in place with his superior strength.

  “We should get closer,” I whispered, struggling against his iron grip. “We need to hear what they say.”

  “We can’t. They’ll see us as soon as we leave the trees.”

  “Fine. You run around, create a distraction. Then I’ll sneak down and—”

  “Hazel, right now you don’t want to hear what Ayaz is saying.”

  I sagged in Trey’s arms, the knife slipping from my grasp. “You’re right.”

  Trey let me go. I bent to retrieve my knife, needing the reassuring weight of it against my skin. Even though my whole body prickled with heat in my desperation to run after Ayaz, to shake his gorgeous shoulders and drag answers out of him, I stayed crouched beside Trey, the knife handle hot against my fingers, straining to hear something from below and yet not wanting to hear. After what seemed like hours while my imagination tore wretched images of what they might be doing down there, Ayaz and Courtney and the other monarchs climbed back up the staircase, laughing and joking as they headed back in the direction of the school.