Mr. Fitzpatrick’s chest heaved with a sigh as he folded his arms over his chest and turned away, no doubt waiting for it to be over.
The music pounded, and the thrilled chatter from the other students filled the room.
“Where—oh, there they are!” a girl shouted, and I heard pounding coming from the hallway, sounding like fists beating on lockers, getting closer and closer.
“Let me see!” another student argued, pushing others aside.
A girl popped up on her tiptoes. “Move!” she ordered someone else.
But then everyone suddenly backed up. The doors swung open, and the students fanned out like a ripple in a lake.
“Oh, shit,” I heard a boy whisper.
Slowly, everyone spread out, some falling back into their seats while others remained standing. I gripped my pencil with both hands, my stomach flipping like a roller coaster as I watched them slowly step into the classroom, eerily calm and in no hurry.
They were here. The Four Horsemen.
They were Thunder Bay’s favorite sons, and they’d gone to high school here, graduating when I was a freshman. All four went on to separate universities afterward. They were a few years older, and while not one of them knew I existed, I knew almost everything about them. All four of them stalked slowly into the room, filling the space to where the sun’s rays turned black across the floor.
Damon Torrance, Kai Mori, Will Grayson III, and—I locked my gaze on the blood red mask covering the face of the one always in the lead a little more than the others—Michael Crist, Trevor’s older brother.
He twisted his head left and jerked his chin toward the back of the room. Students turned, watching one of the male students step forward, a smile pulling at his jaw even though he tried to hold it back.
“Kian,” a guy’s humor-filled voice called out, slapping him on the back as he walked past him on his way to the Horsemen. “Have fun. Wear a condom.”
Some students laughed, while a few girls fidgeted nervously, whispering and smiling to each other.
Kian Mathers, a junior like me and one of our school’s best basketball players, stepped up to the guys, the one in the white mask with the red stripe hooking him around the neck and pulling him out the door.
They grabbed another student, Malik Cramer, and the one in the full black mask pulled him out into the hallway, following the other two and probably off to collect more players from other classrooms.
I watched Michael, the way his size had nothing to do with how he filled a room, and I blinked long and hard, feeling the heat flow under my skin.
Everything about the Horsemen made me feel like I was walking a high wire. Cast your balance a hair in the wrong direction or tread too hard—or too softly—and you’d plummet so far off their radar, you’d never reappear.
Their power came from two things: they had followers and they didn’t care. Everyone idolized them, including me.
But as opposed to the other students who had looked up to them, followed them, or fantasized about them, I simply wondered what it would be like to be them. They were untouchable, fascinating, and nothing they ever did was wrong. I wanted that.
I wanted to look down at the sky.
“Mr. Fitzpatrick?” Gabrielle Owens sauntered up, followed by her friend, both of them carrying their books. “We have to go to the nurse. See you Monday!” And then they squeezed between the horsemen, disappearing out the door
I shot my eyes over to the teacher, wondering why he was just letting them leave. They were clearly not going to the nurse. They were leaving with the guys.
But no one—not even Mr. Fitzpatrick—tried challenging them.
The Four Horsemen, not only ruled the student body and the town when they attended school here, but they commanded the court and hardly ever lost in the four years they played.
Since their departure, though, the team had suffered and last year was a humiliating disaster for Thunder Bay. Twelve losses out of twenty games, and everyone had had enough. Something was missing.
I assumed that’s why the horsemen were here now, called back from college for the weekend to inspire the team or do whatever they had to do to pump them up and get them on track before the season started.
And as much as teachers like Fitzpatrick frowned on their hazing, it had certainly helped make the team a unit in their time here. Why not see if it would work again?
“Everyone sit down! You boys move on,” he told the horsemen.
Dropping my head, elation filled my body as my stomach floated up to my chest. I let my eyes fall closed, my head feeling light and high.
Yeah, this is what had been missing.
Opening my eyes again, I saw a pair of long legs in dark washed jeans walk past my desk, next to the window, and stop.
I kept my eyes down, afraid my face would give away what was happening in my chest. He was probably just scanning the room anyway, seeing if we had any other players in here.
“Anyone else?” one of the other guys asked.
But he didn’t answer his friend. He just kept standing over me. What was he doing?
Keeping my chin down, I tipped my eyes up, seeing his fingers, slightly curled, at his sides. I made out the vein over the top of his strong hand, and the whole room seemed to suddenly grow so quiet that dread filled my stomach and my breathing stopped.
What was he doing just standing there?
I slowly raised my eyes and instantly tensed, seeing golden hazel ones staring straight down at me.
I shifted my gaze side to side, wondering if I’d missed something. Why was he looking at me?
Michael looked down, his vicious red mask—a replica of the deformed and scarred Army of Two masks from the video game—making my knees weak.
I’d always been scared of him. The thrilling kind of scared that got me turned on.
I tightened the muscles in my thighs, feeling the throb between my legs, in the space that only felt empty when he was close but not close enough.
I liked it. I liked being scared.
Everyone sat silently behind me, and I watched him cock his head just a little as he regarded me. What was he thinking?
“She’s only sixteen,” Mr. Fitzpatrick spoke up.
Michael held my eyes for another second and then turned his head, looking at Mr. Fitzpatrick.
I was only sixteen—until next month, anyway—which meant they couldn’t take me with them. The basketball players’ ages didn’t matter, but any girls that joined them had to be eighteen, leaving school grounds of their own free will.
Not that they were going to take me anyway. Mr. Fitzpatrick was mistaken.
The teacher glared, and even though I couldn’t see Michael’s eyes, turned away from me as he was, I deduced that it unnerved Mr. Fitzpatrick, because his stare faltered. He dropped his eyes, blinking and backing down.
Michael turned his head back, looking at me once more as a drop of sweat glided down my back.
And then he walked out of the room, followed by Kai, who I knew wore the silver mask, the door swinging closed behind them.
What the hell was that about?
Whispers broke out across the room, and I could see Claudia’s head turned toward me out of the corner of my eye. I glanced at her, seeing her eyebrows raised in question, but I just ignored her, turning back to my paper. I had no idea why he was looking at me. I hadn’t seen him since he’d been home from college briefly in the summertime, and he’d ignored me then, as usual.
“Alright, everyone!” Mr. Fitzpatrick barked. “Back to work. Now!”
The excited chatter lowered back to whispering, and everyone slowly got back to work. The music, which had faded into a distant hum, cut off, and for the first time since I entered the room, I let go of the smile I’d been holding back.
Tonight would be chaos. Devil’s Night wasn’t just hazing. It was special. Not only would they grab players from all of the rooms, take them to an undisclosed location, rough them up a bit, and get them drunk,
but later...the horsemen would wreak havoc and turn the whole town into their playground.
Last year, with them gone, it had been boring, but everyone knew that it was on tonight. Starting right now in the parking lot as all the guys and a few girls loaded up in the cars, no doubt.
I picked up my pencil, my breathing turning shallow as I bobbed my right knee up and down.
I wanted to go.
The heat in my chest was already starting to dissipate, and my head, which had just felt like it was higher than the trees a minute ago, was slowly descending and returning to the ground.
In another minute I’d feel the same way I had before he walked in the room: base, cold, and trivial.
After class, I’d go home, check on my mom, change clothes, and then head over to the Crist’s to hang out, a routine that started shortly after my father had passed away. Sometimes I’d stay for dinner, and sometimes I’d go back home to eat with my mom if she was up for it.
Then I’d go to bed, trying not to worry about how one brother tried to wear me down more every day while denying what woke up inside of me whenever the other one was close.
Laughter and howls drifted in from outside the windows, and I faltered, stopping my knee from bobbing.
Fuck it.
I reached under my desk, grabbing my Pre-Calc textbook, and leaned over, handing it to Claudia with my bag and whispering, “Take this home with you. I’ll pick it up this weekend.”
Her eyebrows pinched together, looking confused. “Wha—”
But I didn’t let her finish, already slipping out of my desk and walking toward the teacher.
“Mr. Fitzpatrick?” I approached his desk, my hands clasped behind my back. “May I use the restroom, please? I finished the assignment,” I lied in a quiet voice.
He barely looked up, nodding and waving me off. Yeah, I was that kind of student. Oh, Erika Fane? The demure one who’s always in dress code and volunteers to work concession at the athletic events for free? Good kid.
I headed straight for the door, not even hesitating as I left the room.
By the time he realized I wasn’t coming back, I’d be gone. I may still get in trouble, but it would already be too late to stop me. Deed done. Suffer the consequences on Monday.
Racing out of the school, I spotted a group of cars, trucks, and SUVs way off to the left, trailing around the corner of the building. I wasn’t planning on asking them if I could come or letting anyone know I was there. I’d either get laughed at or patted on the head and sent back to class.
Nope. I wouldn’t even be seen.
Jogging toward the group of cars, I spotted Michael’s black Mercedes G-Class and dived behind it, hiding as I peered around the corner.
“Get ‘em in the cars!” someone shouted.
I spotted Damon Torrance right away. He had his black mask sitting on top of his head as he walked through the cluster of cars and tossed a beer to a guy in the bed of a pickup truck. His black hair was pushed back, hidden under the mask, and I noticed his high cheekbones and still-striking black eyes. Damon was good-looking.
But I didn’t like anything else about him. Since I was a freshman when they were all seniors, I didn’t have much first-hand knowledge of their demeanors at school, but I’d seen plenty of him at the Crist house to know that something was wrong with him. Michael gave him a long leash, but it was still a leash and for a good reason. He scared me.
And not in the way Michael did that I liked.
There were about twenty-five people so far, counting the basketball team and some girls, but school would be out in less than an hour, which meant car loads more would be searching them out to join the party.
“Where are we going?” one of the guys asked, looking at Damon.
But it was Will Grayson who stepped up, slapping Damon on the shoulder as he passed. “Where no one can hear you scream,” he answered.
Smirking, he opened the door to his black Ford Raptor, climbing up and standing between the open door and the truck, looking over the hood.
Will held his white mask with a red stripe in his hand, his brown hair styled in a faux hawk and his seductive green eyes laughing. “Hey, did you see Kylie Halpern?” he asked, looking over Damon’s head to someone else.
I peered around the car, seeing Kai with his silver mask on top of his head, and Michael, his face still hidden behind his.
“Holy shit, those legs!” Will went on. “A year did her a lot of good.”
“Yeah, I’m missing high school girls,” Damon said, opening the passenger door to the Raptor. “They don’t give any lip.”
I watched Michael, less than five feet away, open the rear driver’s side door of his G-class and toss a duffle bag in, slamming the door closed when he was done.
I tightened my fists, my arms suddenly feeling weak. What the hell was I doing? I shouldn’t be doing this. I’d either get in trouble or embarrassed.
“Michael?” I heard Will’s voice call. “It’ll be a long night. Did you see anyone you liked?”
“Maybe,” I heard him respond in a deep voice.
And then I heard another voice laugh softly. I thought it was Kai. “Dude, I dare you,” he challenged like he knew something. “She’s beautiful, but I’d wait until she’s legal.”
“I’ll try,” I heard Michael say. “A year did her a lot of good, too. She’s getting harder not to notice.”
“Who are you guys talking about?” Damon cut in.
“No one,” Michael snapped, sounding suddenly short.
I shook my head, brushing off their words. I needed to get out of sight before anyone saw me.
“Get everyone in the cars,” Michael ordered.
My chest rose and fell faster, and I sucked in a deep breath and squeezed the handle on the truck, hearing it click open as I pulled on it.
With a quick glance to the guys again and my ears on alert, I opened the door and quickly dived inside, pulling the door closed and hoping they didn’t notice in the madness of everyone loading into other cars.
I shouldn’t be doing this.
Sure, I’d paid attention to them over the years. Absorbed their conversations and mannerisms, noticing things that other didn’t, but I’d never followed them.
Was this stage one or stage two of stalking? Oh, Jesus. I rolled my eyes, not even wanting to think about it.
“Let’s go!” Kai shouted, and car doors started slamming shut.
“See you there!” I heard Will call out.
The car under me shook, and I widened my eyes as people climbed into Michael’s car.
And then, one by one, all four doors slammed shut, the silent cabin now filled with the laughter and banter of several male voices.
The SUV roared to life, vibrating under me, and I rolled onto my back, letting my head rest on the floor, not sure if I should feel good that I hadn’t gotten caught or sick that I had no idea what I’d gotten myself into.
Present
“THIS WAY, MISS FANE.” The man smiled and took a set of keys, leading me toward some elevators. “I’m Ford Patterson, one of the managers.”
He held out his hand, and I shook it.
“Nice to meet you,” I replied.
I looked around the lobby of my new apartment building, Delcour, as we walked. It was a twenty-two-story skyscraper in Meridian City, built to house apartments and penthouses, and even though it wasn’t nearly as tall as some of the buildings surrounding it, it still stood out. Entirely black with gold fixtures on the outside, it was a work of art, and the interior was just as lavish. I couldn’t believe I was living here.
“You’re all the way up on the twenty-first floor,” he explained, stopping us at the elevator and pushing the button, “which has an amazing view. You’ll be pleased.”
I gripped the strap of my bag over my chest, barely able to wait. Nothing sounded so good as to wake up in the morning and gaze over the vast city, a horizon of buildings that touched the sky and millions of people working and living.<
br />
While some felt lost in large cities—the lights, noise, and action too much—I couldn’t contain the thrill of being part of something bigger. The energy excited me.
I checked my phone again, making sure I hadn’t missed a call from my mother. I was still worried about her. And kind of worried about me, too, even though I didn’t let it stop me from leaving Thunder Bay this morning.
After Mr. Ferguson had left my house last night, having found nothing inside or around the premises, I’d crawled into bed with my mom and stared at the note that had been left in the box with the dagger.
Beware the fury of a patient man.
I’d Googled it to find that it was a John Dryden quote, and I knew what it meant. Those
who are patient, plan. And beware the man with a plan.
But a plan for what? And who was that at my house last night in masks? Could it have been the Horsemen? Would they have sent me the dagger?
I woke up this morning, ignored a curt message from Trevor who was angry with me for leaving the party early, and questioned my mom and Irina, our housekeeper, both of whom knew nothing about the mysterious gift or who’d left it.
The note wasn’t signed, and no one knew how the box got there.
I’d caught the momentary flash of worry that crossed my mother’s face, so I’d hid the note and brushed off the dagger as something Trevor had probably left for me as a surprise. I didn’t want her to be scared for me.
But I definitely was.
Someone had been in my home, right under my mother’s nose.
In the rush to get on the road this morning, I’d slid the slender box, with the dagger, into the car and drove off not knowing why I’d brought it. I should’ve just left it at home.
The soft bell dinged, and I followed Mr. Patterson into the elevator, seeing him press twenty-one. But I narrowed my eyes, noticing that there were no floors higher than that.
“I thought there were twenty-two floors,” I inquired, standing next to him.
“There are.” He nodded assuredly. “But that floor houses only one residence, and he has his own private elevator across the lobby.”
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