by May Dawson
The three of us sink to sit cross-legged in the high grass, almost as if we’re having a regular meal together as we pass food back and forth through the bars. Somehow, Laura manages to make the conversation comfortable even though there should be nothing to talk about.
The way she loves her son is so apparent in the way she looks at him. Suddenly I understand the big picture, even though I don’t know the details.
Julian turned himself in for her.
She’ll be gutted if he dies. Whether he dies by my hand, or in those mysterious Finals people keep talking about.
When I’ve said goodbye to Laura, Julian lingers to say a final goodbye to her, and I head back through the woods and wait on the path. When he joins me, he’s light-hearted and smiling, as if the boy runs on sweet tea and fried chicken.
But I can’t forget the way he bowed his head against those bars, his hand in hers.
“Tell me about these scary Finals,” I tell him.
He heaves a sigh. “But I’m in a good mood right now, Eden.”
Despite his protest, he launches into an explanation. “Finals are the last life-or-death test for Nephilim at the school. The only one that matters, really. We run a gauntlet, so to speak, during the annual Culling.”
“A gauntlet?”
“Through Hell.” His tone is bleak, and I don’t think he’s speaking metaphorically. “We’re watched by the angels, but they don’t help us. If we survive, it’s graduation day. We get to leave the school and never come back. If we fail, we die. We stay there in Hell. If we survive through unethical means, like cheating or killing another Nephilim, they bring us back to the school to be executed. They love a good public execution here. Very medieval.”
I feel shocked. Which is weird, because two days ago I was plotting Julian’s gruesome death myself. The thought of someone hurting him sends a spike through my chest. “That’s horrible. When do you have your…Finals?”
“We have to be rec’d by the faculty for the Culling, either by being bad enough or being good enough,” he says. “I don’t know when I’ll get my nom for sure. Probably next year, the way things usually go.”
I didn’t expect to feel shaken by the thought of Julian suffering in Hell, and yet here I am.
“Don’t worry about me, Eden. I’m going to get out of here. I’ve made my mom cry enough.” He ruffles my hair, giving me one of those confident smiles. Every move he makes is charming; it’s no wonder that all the girls are in love with him. “But I sure wish you weren’t here.”
“Yeah, me too,” I say.
If I hadn’t wanted revenge so badly, I’d still be free. I might’ve been wanted, but as long as I stayed out of trouble, I could have avoided my reform school sentence.
But I came here for blood.
When I sought for blood, I always knew the blood that was spilled, in the end, might be my own.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I stay in my room most of the day, trying to read A Clockwork Orange and avoiding the guys.
For the past two years, I’ve been driven by revenge. Once I killed every one of the Lords who were there, I thought I’d have some kind of peace.
But I’m a million miles from peace right now, and I can’t help feeling that if I did kill Ever and Julian and Lincoln, I’d be running even further in the opposite direction.
What if they’re lying to me? What if they murdered Elliot? What if they knew? The thought makes it feel like my feelings are swelling to be too big for my body, as if I’m going to burst.
I can’t relax. Even though every muscle is sore and aching, I feel like I need to get some fresh air. I glance out the window at the dangerous campus, and decide to stay close. I’m not going off into the woods on my own until I know every odd thing about this school.
I poke through the library, watch the fountain for a while, keep a watchful eye on my fellow students. Three unsmiling Fae walk by looking as if they own the place, wearing swords that would startle me if I hadn’t already heard their swords are spelled to keep them in their scabbards. Lucky. We Nephilim train with swords in combat sports, but Esther definitely makes sure she collects them back up again. We can’t be trusted with stabby things.
I take a seat on the edge of the fountain, hoping no monster will rise up from its depths to murder me. I don’t think anything can be trusted around here, no matter how good the spring sunshine feels on my face.
The three Fae stop near me, deep in conversation. The one in the center has golden wings that draw my eye, both because he’s gorgeous and because it seems strange to see wings out. We Nephilim guard our wings. A few other students give them wide berth. I tilt my face back, letting the breeze tease my hair. I was here first. They can be scary and beautiful elsewhere.
One of the Fae wraps his wings around his friend. "What wicked punishment are you aiming for, Quince? You broke four Court Dictates in the last hour."
"Five." Quincey examines his nails. "But who's counting?"
The ebony-skinned third one snorts. "We are, as well as the Head of House, and the Dean..."
"I'm shooting for a record today." Quincey's lips curl into a malevolent smile.
They seem like they’re having more fun here than I am. I’m curious to eavesdrop more—as if I don’t have enough drama of my own—but the rest of their words fade as they wander away.
A few huge berserker men amble by. One of them gives me a tentative smile, and I stare back at him. Maybe it’s time for me to head back to the dorm. If I lock myself in my room, I’m almost guaranteed to stay out of trouble, and I really want to stay out of trouble.
But as I’m coming back to the dorm, I run into Mia and Vanessa and two guys standing outside.
The way they smirk as they move to intercept me tells me that I’m in trouble.
It’s going to be so hard to get out of here without kicking their asses.
Mia steps in front of me, eyeing me dismissively.
“You think you’re so special,” Mia accuses.
I shrug. When I talk, it usually makes people want to punch me in the face more. It’s a personality problem.
“You’re too good to answer me?” Mia demands.
“Do you really want to do this?” I ask wearily.
Vanessa’s beautiful lip pulls up into a sneer. “What do you think Julian sees in her?”
“Oh wow,” I say, my eyes widening as I look between the two of them. “Does he have a magic dick?”
“Shut up,” Mia warns me.
“Does it vibrate? Does it light up? Is there glitter?” I ask, pretending real curiosity. “Wait. Does it smell delicious? Maybe like hot cocoa? Strawberry shortcake?”
If Julian’s dick glitters and vibrates and smells like strawberries, then I can understand why that boy always looks so damn cocky.
“Like you don’t know,” Vanessa says. “We’ve all heard what a slut you were for the Lords.”
I nod. “Sure.”
It doesn’t matter what the truth is. Their opinion is irrelevant to me.
I take a step toward the door, and the two guys move to block me so fast that their shoulders bump. I look up at them. “Are you also fans of the magic dick?”
I snap my fingers, as if I’ve suddenly understood. “It doesn’t just smell delicious, does it?”
“You’ve got a smart mouth on you, girl,” one of them warns me. “There are consequences for not falling in line around here.”
Mm-hmm. I fell in line for three years with the Lords, and there’s nothing I regret more.
“I’m kind of a loner,” I say. “So I would love to join your dick fan club, but I’m going to pass.”
I start to edge past the guys as I’m speaking, sauntering but ready for a fight. Sure enough, one of them grabs my shoulders and throws me backward toward the girls.
But I expected that.
I use my momentum, throwing myself into a backbend and flipping my legs over. My heel cracks hard into Vanessa’s face, and I hear her let out a wet,
gasping sound.
Then I’m on my feet, the world a blur as it flips right-side up again. Mia is right there, and I side-step her fist before grabbing her arm. I yank her toward me as I plant a fist in her kidney to soften her up. The guys are coming toward me, so I shove her at them.
She runs into one of the guys, still trying to catch her balance, and he pushes her away so that she falls on her ass. She scrambles up right away. Behind the guys, I glimpse Vanessa’s bloodied face as she follows them toward me. These guys look at me as if they have every intention of killing me.
Hardly a fair fight, four to one.
I grin as I bring my fists up and head toward them.
“What the hell is this?” Esther strides into the center of our fight, and suddenly everyone reacts with downcast eyes, their hands hanging loose at their sides. I stare at them suspiciously. My adrenaline’s up, ready for a fight.
The truth is, I don’t want peace right now.
“Fighting?” she demands, which seems like kind of a no-brainer, as she glances around. She locks eyes with me, and she raises one eyebrow. “Getting your ass kicked?”
Then her eyes fall on Vanessa’s face. Vanessa tilts her head, trying to stem the flow of blood pouring from her nose. Vanessa’s eyes are wide, terrified, as if it’s the first time anyone has ever made her bleed. She keeps tilting her head in different directions, as if that’s going to help.
“That’s so gross,” Esther says. “Get out of my sight, and don’t tilt your head back. You’ll just make it worse.” She waves a hand at Vanessa, dismissing her, and Vanessa hurries off.
Esther studies me curiously, and I have a funny feeling she sees more than I’d like.
“You three, get out of here too,” she says. “Behavior modification fields for you all on Friday.”
The three of them look worried, but they don’t argue with her. She shoos them away and they hurry off.
“As for you,” she says slowly, her gaze still fixed on me. “You need to get yourself right, my young friend.”
“I’m trying to adjust.”
She cocked her head to one side. “Are you? You don’t really seem like the type to fall in line and fit in.”
There’s not much I can say to that.
“You are playing some game,” she muses. “And I’m not having it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Mm, well, then I’ll give you some time to think about it. Detention center overnight.” She gives me a cold smile. “Fighting is unacceptable on school grounds, but I’ll let you off with a light punishment this time. See that it doesn’t happen again.”
I’m not sure that one night in the detention center is all that light a punishment.
“How come they just go to the behavior modification fields and I get the detention center?” I know I shouldn’t say it, but I’m curious about her game. I raise my eyebrows at her as I add, “It seems like bullshit.”
“Mm, perhaps, but so is your push-up form.” She sweeps her arm toward the academic building. “Come with me to the counselor’s office. She needs to check that you’re in sound mind while the detention center is prepared.”
Oh, that’s not terrifying at all.
“What if I’m not in sound mind?” I ask lightly as we head toward the building.
“Oh, I’d wager money you aren’t,” she says lightly. “And it doesn’t really matter.”
I can’t help looking back over my shoulder, though I can’t see the Nephilim house through the trees; for some reason, I hate the thought that I’ll just disappear and the guys won’t know where I went.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Everett
THAT EVENING, I can’t find Eden. I know she’s been avoiding me, but when I knock on her door and she doesn’t answer, the quiet strikes me as odd. I’d expect her to be happy to tell me to my face that she hates me, as usual.
I head down to the dining hall when she doesn’t answer her door. Julian has one of his usual girls, Vanessa, perched in his lap, which seems to make it difficult for him to eat his burger, but he’s a resourceful kind of guy. Another girl, Deborah, massages Julian’s shoulders, standing behind his chair like some servant to the king.
Lincoln ignores it all. He always does. Linc could easily have his own bevy of women, but he doesn’t like anyone. I’m not convinced he likes Julian, even though they’re inseparable.
When I stop at the edge of their table, though, Lincoln doesn’t ignore me. His dangerous gaze meets mine.
“Are you lost?” he demands.
“Have you seen Eden?” It’s easiest to ignore Linc’s temper tantrums.
“Did you lose your charge again?” Julian’s lips tug up in a gleeful smile. “Oh, Everett, you’re usually so competent.”
Deborah is busy rubbing her thumbs into his shoulder blades, but she turns her head, ducking to hide a smile.
Julian’s not that funny. He never is.
With a flash of insight, I grab Deborah by the hair, yanking back her head so her glittering eyes meet mine.
“What happened to Eden?” I ask, my voice low and cool.
“Hey psycho, let go of the girl,” Lincoln says, rising to his feet.
I shake my head, looking at Julian. “You think you can make them all jealous of each other with no impact. What a stupid game you play to stroke your ego and your dick. And now one of them hurt Eden.”
“She’s not hurt,” Deborah snarls, and my fingers tighten in her hair. Her voice is more restrained when she adds, “She’s in the detention center.”
That means she’s not hurt yet. The detention center always causes its share of pain.
“Why?” I demand.
She starts to resist me, a rebellious look written across her face, then her gaze registers my fury. She hesitates, then caves. “She got into a fight.”
“Impossible,” Lincoln drawls slowly, his arms crossing his chest. “Our little ray of sunshine getting into a fight?”
“With who?” I snarl.
“Mia, Vanessa, Marcus, and Dylan.”
Four of them versus Eden. As cocky as she is, she still could’ve been hurt.
When I release her, she stumbles back a step.
Julian pushes Vanessa off his lap and stands as well, his movements graceful.
“You and I are done,” he tells Vanessa, his voice very soft.
Lincoln’s jaw sets. The three of us stare at each other, everyone else forgotten, even though the dining hall has gone very quiet.
“Let’s speak outside, gentlemen,” I suggest.
I haven’t exactly spent much time with them the past two years. I’m not afraid of much, and yet I don’t like the idea of my former best friends telling me to fuck off in front of everyone.
Especially not when Eden needs us.
Silence hangs between us all.
“Fine,” Lincoln says abruptly. He heads for the door.
“Julian, let me explain,” Vanessa pleads, still sitting on the floor. She grabs for the hem of Julian’s trousers, but he doesn’t seem to notice her at all. He heads out of the hall behind Lincoln.
When I reach the doors, I can hear shocked gasps, then a rush of whispers, but I leave it all behind.
The three of us steer toward the detention center. Lincoln crosses his arms over his powerful chest, his body taut as a stretched bow. He’s barely spoken a word, but his body language gives him away.
“Do you really think they hurt Eden because of me?” Julian asks me, frowning.
Yes. But I don’t want him to dwell on that, at least not now. “They’re a bunch of psychos. What matters is that Eden is alone in detention.”
“You’ve been in detention before,” Lincoln drawls. “It won’t kill her.”
It shouldn’t. But there’s this sense of foreboding that dogs me. Trouble follows Eden Greyson.
“I didn’t care for it much,” I say lightly, which is the understatement of the century.
They say the deten
tion center changes to inflict the maximum psychological distress on the culprits. Sometimes that distress isn’t just psychological.
Not everyone who goes to detention comes back.
“I’m going in after her,” I say finally. “Once I’m sentenced, I can influence a guard to put me in the same cell as her.”
“That is idiotic,” Lincoln says, “even by your standards.”
“She hates your guts, Ever,” Julian reminds me lightly. The thought seems to cheer him up a bit.
“I can live with her hating me,” I say. I can’t live without her, though. Now that I know she’s alive, the thought of losing her again—even if all she’s going to do is glare at me from a distance—terrifies me.
I flash a smile at the two of them. “Now, who’s willing to let me punch them in the face?”
“I’m happy to punch you in the face,” Lincoln begins, just as I spot a guard out of the corner of my eye.
Close enough. “If you’re willing to dish it, you should be willing to take it.”
I throw my best right hook at Linc, slamming my fist across his jaw so hard that the skin on my knuckles bursts open.
Julian, the adorable psycho, bursts out laughing, even though someone’s blood is freckled across his face.
Lincoln starts for me, fury in his eyes, but Julian grabs his arm. I’m not sure if he’s saving me from Linc’s considerable fury or saving him, because the guard is already running toward us, pulling out his baton and barking orders.
I turn my back to the guard as I raise my hands in the air, so he can’t see me grin.
Julian grins back at me, and at first, I think it’s just his psycho drama-loving reaction, but when his eyes meet mine, there’s genuine warmth.
It’s a nice thing to see right before the baton busts across my shoulders, dropping me to my knees.
“THIS PLACE IS HOPPING TONIGHT,” the school psychologist, Cora, says as she sits on the edge of the table in her office. Her skirt hikes a little higher up her thighs as she crosses her legs.