The Bad Ones

by Stylo Fantome

  “Um, thanks?” she managed a reply, then she glanced over his shoulder. The plague doctor was gone, replaced by a werewolf.

  “How come you don’t dress like this more often?” Chuck asked, his eyes traveling over her form.

  “What? I should wear a babydoll dress and mask to school every day?” she snorted, looking down at herself. The thick petticoat made the skirt of the dress stand out from her body, barely clearing the tops of her thighs. Her cloak fell just past the hem in the back, leaving most of her legs on display.

  “I wouldn’t complain,” Chuck leered. She rolled her eyes and went to step past him, but he moved with her. When she tried to go the other way, he took a step forward.

  “This is fun and all, but I’d like to get back to the dance now,” she said, moving back with every step he took forward.

  “Sounds good. I’d love to dance,” he laughed. When he reached out to grab at her ruffly petticoat, she jerked backwards and bumped up against a wall. He’d trapping her between a corner of the gym and the bleachers.

  “I don’t dance,” she told him.

  “C’mon, babe, what’s the deal? I’m the quarterback, you’re hot. Let’s see what we can work out,” he suggested, crowding in so close she was able to smell the tainted punch on his breath. She pressed herself flat against the wall.

  “If you don’t get away from me, I’m gonna work out how to plant my knee in your nuts.”

  “You’re a fucking snob, Dulcie. Always walking around acting like you’re better than the rest of us,” he suddenly snapped at her.

  “What are you talking about? You’re drunk, Chuck. Get out of my face,” she ordered, and she placed her hands against his chest, trying to push him away. He didn’t budge.

  “Shit, this is the first time you’ve ever even dressed up. You too cool for Halloween, Dulcie?” he snarled, then he surprised her by reaching out and ripping off her mask.

  She should’ve been scared – she was in a dark corner with Chuck Beaty. There were all sorts of rumors about him, about how he treated girls, about how he liked to get drunk all the time.

  But Dulcie wasn’t scared. She was angry, and she was annoyed. As was apparently becoming her new habit, she didn’t even think about what she was doing – she just launched her hand at his face, raking her nails down the side of his cheek.

  I want to see his blood.

  Chuck was shocked for a moment, then he looked really pissed. He grabbed the front of her dress and twisted the fabric in his fist before jerking her forward, then he slammed her against the wall. She immediately started slapping at his arms and yanking at his wrist.

  It never occurred to her to scream. Not once. She wanted to rip him in half, she was so angry, but she never got the chance. A dark figure stepped out from underneath the bleachers and grabbed Chuck by the back of the neck, pulling him away from her. Constantine Masters had lost his mask, but he still looked haunting and formidable in his all black costume, and it seemed easy for him to hold the smaller guy in place.

  “You wanna know why I lit your car on fire?” Con growled, and Dulcie watched as Chuck’s eyes opened wide in shock.

  “You fucking did that!?” he shouted.

  “Because,” Con ignored him. “I thought you were in it.”

  He moved forward and Dulcie leapt out of the way, tripping under the bleachers as Con slammed Chuck’s head against the wall. He did it two more times, until the other guy was unconscious and falling to the ground in a lump.

  Dulcie gripped onto the network of rails that surrounded her and tried to catch her breath. She was almost panting, and her heart was racing. She stared at Chuck for a moment, at his figure as it lay prone on the floor. Then she moved her gaze to Con. He was staring down at Chuck as well, and even in the dim lighting, she could see the muscle in the side of his jaw. Watched as it ticked away.

  When he moved, Dulcie stayed still. He slid between the rails, moving undern the bleachers till he was standing in front of her. He looked a little crazy. His face was flushed and his eyes were wild. He moved so they were touching, so she could feel his chest as it rose and fell with his heavy breathing. He was so much taller than her, she’d never really realized. She had to tilt her head back to look up at him and her hood fell away from her hair.

  “Are you scared of me?” he demanded, his voice hoarse sounding.

  “No,” she answered straight away.

  “I think you should be,” he warned her. She took a deep breath.

  “I think you should be scared of me.”

  When his mouth fell on hers, it felt natural. He needed to devour something, it was clear, and she was fresh meat. She wanted to split open for him and lay at his feet.

  She moaned and grabbed the edges of his jacket, yanking him even closer. They stumbled backwards till they hit the wall, then Con’s hands were moving over her body. Scratching across her chest, pulling at her skirt. When they slid around to her back, he grabbed onto the material of her cloak and yanked hard, causing the knot at her throat to pull tight. She gasped as her head was pulled away from him, but she still wasn’t scared. As his teeth left bite marks down the side of her neck, she thought maybe she didn’t need oxygen anymore. He could just breathe for her.

  Dulcie had been kissed before, but not in the way he was kissing her – she was pretty sure no one had ever been kissed like that. She was still a virgin, but at that moment in time, she didn’t care. She didn’t care that she was young and stupid, or that they were in a gym full of people, or that she barely knew the boy who was touching her. She wanted his darkness to swallow her whole. She wanted to be a part of it. She wanted to give her own darkness back to him.

  He let go of her cloak, allowing her to breathe again, but his hands didn’t remain idle. They immediately moved under her skirt, pawing through all the ruffles, finally finding skin. Nails dug into the soft flesh on her thighs and she groaned into his mouth.

  “Please. Please, I want this,” she assured him, though he hadn’t voiced any questions or concerns.

  “I know,” he growled back.

  She would never know how far they really would have gone. Con was so much more experienced than her, maybe he would’ve had more self restraint. She certainly didn’t have any – she’d been ready to start ripping off clothing. But then a series of flashing flights played across her closed eyelids and she blinked back to reality, holding up her hand as another bright flash went off.

  “Whoa ho ho there! Dulcie! Now I see why you didn’t wanna take the photos tonight!”

  It took a second for her brain to stop spinning and recognize the voice. Gary was a sophomore who was on the yearbook committee with her. And the little asshole had just taken their picture. One of Con’s hands was up her skirt, and both her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck.

  “You little shit, I should make you eat that fucking camera,” Con started to threaten, and he moved towards the younger kid. A frightening gesture to be sure, and Gary quickly backed away. Then he stumbled over something and when they all looked down, they realized he was tripping over Chuck’s unconscious body.

  “What’s going on here? What did you guys do!?” Gary yelled.

  “Nothing, Gary. Just wait -” Dulcie tried to calm the situation down.

  “Nothing he didn’t fucking deserve, and you’re gonna be next,” Con interrupted.

  There was silence for about a second, then Gary took off running, yelling for the principal.

  Well, shit. There goes the night.

  “This is gonna be worse than detention, isn’t it?” Dulcie groaned.

  “It’ll be fine, c’mon.”

  Con didn’t explain, he just grabbed her arm and began pulling. She stumbled as he dragged her down the length of the bleachers. When they got to the other end, he still didn’t say anything, he just pushed his way through the fake spider webs before yanking her to a set of double doors. They led to the back parking lot, and Con pushed one of them open.

  “What
are you doing?” she asked, a little confused as he shoved her outside.

  “I’ll take care of all this,” was all he said, then he went to shut the door between them. She reached out and grabbed it, stopping his momentum.

  “What is going on here?”

  It was the million dollar question – and she wasn’t talking about the dance. She wasn’t even talking about the kiss. She was talking about the feeling she was having whenever he was near. She knew he felt it, too. She was pretty sure if they’d been out in the open, the entire student body would’ve felt it. That’s why he’d pulled her into the dark to kiss her. If they’d been standing in front of other people, they might have seen their true forms.

  Whatever those are.

  “Nothing, Dulcie. Go home.”

  And with that, Con yanked the door out of her hand and slammed it shut in her face.

  4

  By the time Con got back to Chuck Beaty, the kid had been coming to, thank god. Con was able to get him onto his feet before the principal showed up. At least it didn’t look quite as bad as it had before, and despite the little shit Gary whining about being threatened, Con was able to convince the principal it had just been a scrap. Just boys being boys, some healthy rivalry.

  If there hadn’t been a game the following weekend, Con was sure he would’ve been in big trouble. But the match was an important one against a long standing rival, and without Con, their team would lose. He watched as the principal struggled with what to do about the situation.

  “I can’t keep letting these things go, Masters,” he grumbled. Chuck was leaning up against a wall, his head in his hands, not quite “there” enough to offer his two cents. “I have to do something.”

  “Understandable,” was all Con said in response

  “Alright. Three days suspension. Banned from any future dances. And I have to call your parents. Okay?” the principal asked. Gary made a noise like he wanted to argue, but Con just nodded.

  “Fine.”

  “No more fighting, Masters.”

  “No more.”

  “And no more funny business. I heard something about a fire a couple weeks ago, your name was -”

  “Got it. Let’s go.”

  Con didn’t bother waiting, he turned and led the way out of the gym.

  Being a teenager was a strange process, Con had always felt. He didn’t feel young. He didn’t feel any particular age. He felt like he was always going through the motions, always pretending to be something he wasn’t; something he didn’t want to be, anymore.

  The only time he felt real was when he was doing something wrong. And not like cutting class or cheating on a test. Like setting Chuck’s car on fire. Or the time he’d beaten the shit out of some guy, after a game in a neighboring town. Or when he’d kissed Dulcie. Only when he was completely letting go did he truly feel free.

  So sitting in the office, listening to his dad yell at both the principal and himself, Con didn’t feel real. He felt like a paper doll, just sitting in a chair, waiting for his dad to pick him up and move him. Tell him how to be, tell him what to do, until the moment came when he could be himself again.

  After the principal had been reminded of exactly WHO Con’s father was, and exactly HOW valuable Con’s arm was to the town, they left. The elder Masters went home in his own car, and Con followed close behind in his truck. He didn’t want to go home. He wanted to find Dulcie and finish what they’d started. Whatever the hell it had been.

  It was a human sacrifice, and she was offering herself to your altar.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you, Constantine!?”

  Con sighed as they walked through their front door and his father instantly began yelling. It wasn’t a surprise. Once upon a time, Jebediah Masters had used his fists to keep his son in line. But then Con had gotten bigger than his dad, and he’d never been afraid to hit back. So the striking had taken a back burner to preaching. His father could talk and talk and talk – before becoming mayor, he’d been a very successful lawyer.

  “Don’t you talk to my son that way!”

  Ah, Mrs. Masters joined the fray, complete with martini in hand. She, unfortunately, was not bigger than her husband, and her face sported fresh bruises to attest to that fact. It didn’t bother Con – his mother had been an absent figure in his life, spending most of her time in bigger cities. When she had been home, she’d always turned a blind eye to the hitting and shouting. Defending Con now, it was just ammunition against her husband. Another reason to yell at each other.

  While the two “adult” Masters screamed and shrieked at each other, Con sat down at the head of their twelve seat dining room table. It had been set for the holiday season, complete with garland laced with purple tinsel and orange candles burning down the length of it.

  He stared into a flame while he listened to his parents argue. Parents. More like animals. It would explain a lot, really. A harpy and a snake, snarling and hissing at each other. Trying to draw blood, but neither brave enough to actually do it.

  Con was brave enough, though. He was a different kind of beast.

  Just burn it all.

  He reached out and tipped over the candle that was directly in front of him. The flame flickered as it hit the table top, but didn’t go out. The pillar of wax rolled into the garland, which quickly caught on fire. The plastic tinsel acted like a fuse and it was only a matter of seconds before the entire runner was up in flames.

  Con wasn’t a pyromaniac, not at all. Fire was just quickest and easiest. He’d set Chuck’s car on fire simply because he’d had a lighter on him. If he’d only had a bat, he would’ve beaten the shit out of the car. If he’d had a gun, he would’ve shot his parents. But all he had was a flame and a thought, and without bothering to dwell much on either, he set their dining room table on fire. While he watched the flames grow and spread and drip down onto an expensive Persian rug, his mind was miles away.

  I wonder what Dulcie tastes like. I wonder if she’d let me bite hard enough to find out.

  5

  No one knew Gary Eckland existed, let alone listened to him, so word never got around about Dulcie and Con’s private little moment. No one would have believed it, anyway. Half the time, even she didn’t believe it had really happened.

  News about the “fight” between Con and Chuck did spread around, though. Some stories claimed Con had beaten him to within an inch of his life. Other tales claimed Chuck had almost won, and Con had just gotten in a sucker punch. No one knew the truth, except for Dulcie and Con. She wasn’t talking and Con was suspended, so the stories went unchecked.

  She didn’t speak to him for almost the entire month of November. More rumors swirled, talk of the fire department being called to the Masters household. He came back to school for one day, then the team left for an away game, which they of course won. Two weeks later, Thanksgiving break happened. Two weeks after, Christmas break. The Masters took their annual trip to Vail to go skiing.

  Dulcie worked through the holidays and avoided home as much as possible. Matt, her crazy half-brother, had been getting even crazier. She’d come out of the bathroom fresh from a shower more than once to find him lurking near the door. Her mother was also spending more time at home, but that wasn’t any help – she turned tricks to her husband’s friends in exchange for drugs, which her husband then sold for money that he kept for himself.

  Weeks turned into months. Winter into spring. Dulcie had dreams about a shadowy man, stealing her away and carrying her into the night. Kissing her in the dark and touching her in ways that had her waking up in a hot sweat, panting for more.

  But Con wasn’t saying anything. It was like nothing had ever happened. The most profound moment in her short life, and he acted as if it hadn’t even mattered. Of course, maybe it hadn’t. Con kissed lots of girls. Had slept with lots of girls, had lots of girlfriends. Kissing Dulcie was just more of the same for him, probably.

  No. He felt it. We were in that space together.

 
It didn’t matter. They bumped into each other a couple times. One time, they’d even somehow wound up in the main hallway together, after the last bell for class had rung. She’d been fighting to get her portfolio into her bag and had dropped it. Before she could pick it up, someone was standing in front of her and grabbing it off the floor.

  He’d asked her how her art project had turned out, if she’d been able to make it work without her camera. She’d been shocked he’d even remembered breaking her camera. Before she could answer, though, half the football team had flooded into the hallway. Con made a joke about asking if Dulcie did nude portraits, and everyone laughed. Then he winked at her and walked off with his friends. As if she was just some regular girl he could flirt with and tease.

  I am NOT a regular girl, Constantine Masters.

  Similar incidents happened. He’d magically appear in a place she’d be – the library, the art room, the back gym – but before anything could be said, someone would interrupt them. And it was like watching a mask fall over someone’s face. He would smile and he would be cute, but it wasn’t Con. She just knew it wasn’t him.

  Graduation day came and while most kids were excited, Dulcie felt like she was being strangled. It was like Con had brought something to life in her, then taken it away just as abruptly. Most juniors were celebrating become seniors, and all the seniors were celebrating the end of high school. There were parties everywhere, every night. She wanted to go, wanted to corner him somewhere, wanted to kick and scratch and bite until he recognized her for what she really was – his reflection.

  But she was weak, and she was nervous, and when all was said and done, she was just a seventeen year old girl. A stupid, stupid seventeen year old girl, who had been cliché enough to fall for the good looking jock.

  Little red riding hood fell for the wolf.