I guess I should be scared. I think that a sane person might’ve realized there was always a third option: that James Barrasso, the son of a gang I didn’t even know existed until a few weeks ago, might actually overpower me. I’m just not wired that way, to consider that kind of failure.
“And don’t you think it’s sad?” I continue, fingering my planchet necklace. Maybe the spirit board really can conjure evil spirits and demons because James Barrasso looks just like one right now. “That a bunch of high school kids murdered your father’s men? Or that he sent you here to spy on us? That he asked you to see if you could fuck some information out of me?”
“What the hell is your problem?” James snaps, stepping toward me like he’s used to intimidating people smaller and lighter than him. He grabs me by the back of my hair, and I let him, so I can sneak my hand up my dress to grab the knife. It falls easily into my palm as Jimmy gets in my face with a snarl. “You’re a cheap whore who fucks a bunch of wannabe gangsters. You think that makes you special, bitch?”
“That’s not what makes me special,” I breathe, realizing that I’ve already made a mistake, but one that can’t be corrected. It’s too late now. “It’s how afraid of me you are.”
I intend to swing the knife up and around, putting it through his arm to get him to let go of me. If you cut the flexor tendons, your opponent can’t grip anything.
“He’s handsome,” Kali whispers in my ear, a ghost that I can’t seem to exorcise. “I’d fuck him.”
To exorcise her, that means exorcising my own inner demons, the ones that seem louder and louder the shorter my list gets. Once my mother’s been properly Havoc’d then what? I’ll have to face myself?
Somebody’s been working on picking the lock, and the door swings open with a creak. Callum is standing there, his black hoodie reminding me of the dark cloak worn by death. All he needs now is a scythe.
“Bernie,” he says with a smile as Jimmy backs away from me, his gaze dark and full of hate. I’ve blown it, I realize as I keep the knife hidden inside the baggy sleeve of the hoodie dress. Shit.
“Crazy cunt,” Jimmy growls as he storms off, pushing past Callum.
Cal lets him get into the hallway before he turns and throws his elbow into Jimmy’s stomach so hard that he chokes and stumbles, falling into the wall and then collapsing to the floor.
“Put the knife away,” Callum whispers as I move up to stand beside him, loving the way Jimmy’s struggling and failing to find his feet. I do what Cal says, noticing Oscar standing in the shadows at the end of the hall.
“Fucking wannabes,” Jimmy chokes as he finally uses the wall to get his feet. The look he throws back on Cal is cocky with a dollop of fear. He’s trying to act like he isn’t afraid right now. He really should be. I wonder if his father knows how easy it would be for Jimmy to die here tonight? He must, sending him into a murder mystery party surrounded by enemies. “Your girl was about to get down on her knees and suck me off.”
Callum just keeps on smiling in that enigmatic way of his, and I see a visible shudder ripple through Jimmy.
“No, she wasn’t,” he says, just like that, nice and simple. Cal bends down and puts his hands on his thighs, his tone patronizing. “Now, keep going before I decide to end this party early by revealing just who the murderer actually is.”
Jimmy scowls, storming down the hallway but then startling when he runs into Oscar. Not sure he even saw him through the shadows; the hallway lights above us are bright but there are no lights on in the entryway. It gives this optical illusion that there’s nothing beyond the end of the hallway but the depthless dark.
Oscar shifts out of the way as Cal and I move down the hall toward him.
“I had a knife in my hand. I think I was going to kill him,” I admit, but the reason I sound so sorry isn’t because of that douchebag kid that thinks his father’s gang makes him hot shit. It’s because of Kali, and they both know it. I feel like I’ve let them down, like I’m not as much of a Havoc girl as I thought.
“I wonder if we should?” Oscar asks, but Cal is already shaking his head.
“There are men all over this property,” he says, lighting a cigarette in the dark. “We shouldn’t kill anyone.” Cal pauses, breathes deeply, smiles again. “Here, I mean. We shouldn’t kill anyone here.”
I remember how terrified he looked on Halloween night, when he killed Danny Ensbrook with a baseball bat studded with nails. Callum is a careful monster. He’d never leave blood on the floor of a too-white art gallery.
“I can’t stand seeing Victor with that girl,” I tell them, glancing over and finding them both staring at me. Oscar’s head is tilted down just slightly, and I know he can see me above his glasses, a blurred figure with bloodred tips for hair. “My jealousy of his pretend seduction sort of ruined my own pretend seduction.” I sigh and reach up to ruffle my hair. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. “Though, based on my limited interactions with the creep, I don’t think he knows much.”
I open my eyes.
“Just a spoiled prince,” Oscar muses and Cal nods, like he’d already had that thought about James Barrasso.
“Pathetic,” he agrees, reaching down to take my hand. I love the way he does that, reaches for me like he can’t believe he’s allowed to touch me. His palm is hot, violence brimming in the center like a ball of dark magic summoned to the surface of his skin. “There’s nothing here worth anything. No people, no information.”
“Except for whatever Vic can get out of Trinity,” Oscar says, and there’s something about the way he says it that makes me sick.
“Where is Victor?” I choke, wondering all of a sudden if I’ve misjudged everything. If I don’t know Vic Channing at all. How far would he go to execute a plan? Would he … he’d never fuck an awful bitch just to prove a point, right?
I take off before Oscar can answer, finding Hael in the kitchen area, sweet-talking some girl who won’t remember which direction is up and which is down when he’s done with her. Our eyes meet as I slow down and he gives me this long, exaggerated sort of wink. I feel momentarily breathless.
How can I keep hold of so many men? I wonder, hating that that’s the way I think, how I was raised and brought up. How do I keep them? instead of how do I make sure they know what I’m worth and how lucky they are?
I keep walking, finding Aaron in the same place I left him, leaning against the wall and nursing a drink that someone must’ve fetched for him. He looks at me, his eyes making me feel dizzy and off-kilter.
“He’s in the other room,” Aaron tells me, like he’s pissed off on my behalf. I move down the steps into the sunken lounge, across the plush rugs piled on the old hardwood floor, and then up the steps on the other side. There’s a sunroom where people are dancing, surrounded by bright green plants that shouldn’t look so fucking happy in the dead of winter.
Vic is dancing with Trinity in the center of the room.
I watch them for a minute, but I can’t see Vic’s face, just his back. His shoulders are tense, but his body seems to be moving just fine. I know it’s all a game. I know that. Just like I let James follow me around and mix me a drink. I’m sure Victor’s giving Trinity that intense, obsidian stare of his and making her feel like the only woman in the world while simultaneously imagining ways to get rid of her.
I know that, but I can’t stop myself. I move through the crowd like I’m possessed, and people move the fuck out of my way. Maybe it’s the white-blond hair dipped in red? Maybe it’s the spirit board dress and the swinging metal planchet hanging in front of my chest? Or maybe they can just smell the violence making my hands itch and burn, making my fingers twitch like they’re the fingers of the devil?
My hand slides up Victor’s back and over his shoulder. He turns to look at me before his brain even registers why he’s doing it. He’s drawn to me like he’s spelled.
“Bernadette,” he says, the word half warning and half desperate heady whisper. He moves away from Trinity li
ke he’s forgotten she even exists. I know he wants me to go away, and I probably should, but I can’t help myself. My fingers tangle together behind his neck, and I pull him into the salsa-inspired rap that’s playing on a fairly low volume. This isn’t the type of place or party where you blast the biggest fucking speakers you can, until your eardrums bleed and you know you might go deaf, but you don’t care. It’s not a good sort of party, is what I’m saying.
“Victor,” I reply, and then I let go of him, so I can dance better. My body moves of its own accord, twining to the music, inviting Victor to sin. He watches me for a moment, going completely still. He’s not even dancing anymore, just watching me.
He closes his eyes for a brief second, opening them on me with a shine that says he’s about to snap. The king of self-control has a weakness, and if I’m not careful, I’m going to show every single person in that room exactly what that is.
But I can’t stop.
Victor grabs me by the hips and pulls me in close. This time, when we start dancing, our bodies are grinding together like we’re fucking.
“Oh!” someone calls out, and an audience forms around us like a ring. “Trinity, girl, you’ve got some competition.”
One of Vic’s legs is between my own, his palm splayed open on my back, our bodies swaying with the music. I can’t look away from his gaze, from the tightness of his jaw, from the tension in his neck.
Competition? She has no competition because she isn’t in the running.
Victor takes me by the hand all of a sudden and starts moving back. The crowd parts for him as he pulls me out of the room and slams me into the wall. Someone turns the music up, but I can still hear mean laughter underneath it all.
“You’re fucking this up for both of us,” he growls at me, his cock so hard and desperate for me that when I put my hand over it, it burns. “I cannot do this with you tonight.”
“You said you’d never cut us off from each other to punish me,” I tell him, but he’s already shaking his head. My fingers dig into his purple-dark hair, and he shudders like he’s been slapped. Vic’s eyes are closed now, so I can’t see what he’s thinking. I can’t read a damn thing.
“That’s not what I’m doing,” he assures me, and then he opens his eyes, and I can see even less than nothing. He’s trying so hard to control himself that he’s gone completely dark. “This plan makes sense, and you know it. If they think we might comply, they might not try to assassinate you. This buys us time.”
“I almost killed James Barrasso,” I tell Vic, and he goes very still. “I took out a knife, but Cal stopped me. Just so you know, the guy’s pissed. He’s out for blood now.” I wait a split-second before I decide to add, “Unlike you, I have trouble pretending to be attracted to someone else.”
“Mm,” Vic murmurs, nodding like he’s got me all figured out. He even has the audacity to chuckle. “You still haven’t quite learned to control your temper. That’s why you’re struggling.”
I give him a look, because the all-knowing leader persona is the last part of Victor I feel like talking to right now.
“Tell me the angle, Vic, or I’ll walk right in there and beat the shit out of Trinity Jade.”
“Hah,” he says, stepping away from me and holding his hands up, palms out. “You don’t have the balls.” Victor turns and takes off down the hallway, heading back into the lounge area as I fume behind him. I’m not so stupid that I can’t see when I’m being played.
You want me to beat Trinity up? I think, smirking. Fucking fine. Wish granted, you dick.
I follow after Victor and find that Trinity’s already dragged him into the middle of the room for another dance. There’s some old Daddy Yankee song on now, something from forever ago that still sounds current—in a bad way, that is. God, this song sucks.
People move out of my way as I walk calmly through the crowd, fingering the planchet. I pause right behind Trinity and pretend like I can’t hear Kali Rose-Kennedy speaking to me from beyond the grave.
“Vic might’ve been taunting you on purpose, but what if he were a little serious, too?” her poisonous voice whispers, making me question myself even when, by all rights, I’ve won. We won, right? The Charter Crew is essentially wiped off the face of the earth. My list is nearly done. Yet, I feel like a baby trying to walk for the first time. “Beat her ass the way you wish you’d beaten mine,” Kali hisses.
“Trinity,” I say, and as soon as she turns around, I’m grabbing her by the hair and yanking her forward. She gasps as Vic stops dancing, the rest of the partygoers in the room shocked senseless. This is Prescott High shit, right? Oak Valley Prep, Burberry Prep, Adamson Academy, or any of those other rich ass schools, they don’t know shit about fighting back.
Trinity stumbles along behind me, scratching at my hands, but I just throw her as hard as I can into the edge of the wet bar countertop. There’s a satisfying crack as she stumbles back and lands on her ass, blood pouring from the side of her head. It’s not a bad cut, really, but head wounds bleed like a bitch.
“Trinity!” Nose Job gasps, rushing over to her friend’s side. Several other girls do the same and a row of prep school boys make a line between me and Trinity. It’s enough to make me laugh as I light a cigarette right there in front of them, while they ‘guard’ Trinity from my evil.
“It doesn’t even hurt, it’s fine,” Trinity snarls as her friends fawn over her. She flicks her strange brown gaze over to me. “I want you out of my house,” she continues, letting her friends help her to her feet. Trinity storms over to stand behind the boys, pointing at me from a relatively safe location. “Get out. Now. And you can forget about that annulment.”
“You’re damn straight,” I tell her to her face, pointing with the cigarette. “If I see you touch my man again, I will kill you.”
Nose Job starts to scream at me, but it’s all the usual stuff, things I’ve heard a million times. Diseased slag. Whore. Cunt. Bitch. Slut. White trash. Cum dumpster.
Trinity remains completely silent, which is a million times worse somehow.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, gesturing back at her and then tossing my character card on the ground. “I’m the maid, not the murderer. Try the gardener though. Pretty sure he’s guilty.”
Trinity straightens her dress out, once again surprising me by having much less of a reaction to an assault than you’d expect.
Fuck, that woman is scary.
Her eyes follow me out of the room. All four of the other boys are standing near the door now, watching.
“That was beautifully done,” Oscar murmurs as I pass by him. “She’ll be begging Ophelia for Victor by morning.”
“Excellent,” Vic says, sticking a cigarette between his own lips as I make my way to the front door, suddenly desperate to get the fuck out of that house and away from these people.
And here I’d thought Kali and Mitch were bad.
James aka Jimmy and Trinity are a million times worse.
“So this was your plan?” I ask Vic, turning to look at him and feeling relief pour over me in a wave. “Get me all fired up, so it’d look real?”
“If we accept their deal too easily, it seems like we’re not serious at all. They need to see some resistance before we give in or they’ll be overly suspicious,” Vic explains as Hael moves ahead to hold the front door open for us. I grab my phone on the way by and then pause, taking the entire tray.
“Oh, wicked,” Cal says, grinning as we take the phone of every person at that damn party with us when we leave.
“You have no idea,” I say, looking back at Vic. He’s staring right at me, but I can’t decide if the relief I’m feeling is premature or just right. This guy’s going to be the death of me, I think as I stop Hael just short of opening the car door for me, climbing in and throwing the phones on the floor in my own version of a hissy fit.
Hael seems to know exactly how to cheer me up though, starting the Firebird and then driving nice and slow past the shiny surface of the black Mayb
ach.
Jimmy’s in the front seat, yelling at someone on his phone. Damn it. Means we didn’t get his in the haul. Hael hands me a key and I know without having to ask what he wants from me.
I roll my window down and lean out, keying the length of James’ car as Hael hits the gas and we speed past, leaving through the already open gate at the end of the driveway.
“Can I spend the night at your place?” I ask Hael just a few minutes after arriving back at Aaron's house. Everything is quiet and dark, buttoned-down and ready for bed. The girls are still at the babysitter's house, and I could really use a break from Victor. He’s already gone into the master bedroom and kicked off his boots, so I know he plans on staying here tonight.
Hael pauses to glance over his shoulder at me, keys clutched in his right hand. He was reaching for the door to leave. Pretty sure I just stopped him dead in his tracks.
I cock a brow.
“What?” I ask, putting a hand on my hip and wondering if there are any hidden spots of blood on my dress that I can't see. “You don't want me there?”
“I never said that,” he starts, trailing off and then hooking a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. “Does Vic know you're leaving?”
I shake my head.
“No, but I'll tell him,” I reply, my voice even and much more self-assured than I actually feel on the inside. Telling Victor I want to leave and spend the night with Hael isn't going to make him very happy. I bite my thumbnail, and I swear I taste blood. Frowning, I pull it away from my mouth and glance back at the door to the master bedroom.
It’s open now, and Vic’s standing there in shadows looking at me.
“What do you want?” I ask, and I hear him let out a frustrated sound that’s halfway between a laugh and a scoff. He moves down the hall, and I almost gasp when his face emerges from the shadows and I can see him in a bit of moonlight coming in from the sliding doors. Outside, rain pours in a steady, silver wave.
“You want to go to Hael’s house?” he asks me, laughing again and shaking his head before he moves past me. “Go then. I won’t stop you. I already explained my position to you.”
Anarchy at Prescott High Page 25