Bully (Angel & Demons Trilogy Book 1)

by Ashley Love

  "Zane!" a voice calls out, and two people shove roughly past me, knocking me into another student. It's Noah and Ryker, and they jump into the fight, both taking one of Zane's arms and dragging him off of the bigger student. The boy Zane was hitting scrambles up and lunges towards him again, but a couple bigger guys from the crowd reach out and catch him before he can start up the fight again.

  Zane is breathing hard, his nose and forehead bleeding. One of the punches must have broken open the wound on his forehead that I had seen bleeding when he was in the forest. He looks so angry. Angrier than I have ever seen him before. He jerks in Noah and Ryker's hold, swearing at them and swearing at the guy he was fighting. Noah and Ryker drag him away through the crowd before anything else can happen.

  I stare at the spot where Zane and the other Cancers disappeared, and the crowd starts to disperse when the guy Zane was fighting growls angrily and stalks off in the other direction.

  "What happened?" a girl behind me asks.

  "I don't know, Peterson just jumped him," a guy replies.

  Kira turns towards me with a snort. "At least it wasn't you this time," she chuckles. I roll my eyes, giving her a shove, and she laughs.

  Victor and another teacher break through the slowly dissolving crowd then, but they're too late. Zane and the guy he was fighting with are gone. I stand there distractedly until Kira pulls me along.

  "Come on, you're gonna be late for class."

  I shouldn't care why Zane was in the woods while me and my friends were having the ghost hunt Friday night. I shouldn't, but I do. Just like I care about everything involving Zane. Because I'm pathetic, and Project FAZ is a bust, and I'm just so damn curious as to why he's behaving this way. And I care. I want to help. I want not to see such anger and emptiness in those green, green eyes.

  I spend the day distracted. I pay attention as much as I can in class, but I'm also busy trying to shut my brain off from coming up with different ways in which I could help Zane. And that's just stupid, because I don't even know Zane. And Zane doesn't want my help. Why would he? I'm just another weak little victim to him.

  When lunch rolls around, I don't buy anything, too wrapped up in my own head to feel hungry at all. Charlie and Mason both give me food from their lunches, forcing me to eat it, no exceptions. Olivia pours me half of her grapefruit juice in the lid of her thermos. I smile at them appreciatively, if a little bashfully, and finally accept the food after trying to give it back three times.

  I sit with my back to the windows like I've been doing for weeks now, forcing myself to not look at Zane out there at The Docks. Only, it has the opposite effect today. I'm facing the door to the cafeteria now, and I have a direct view of Zane walking in.

  He's alone when he enters, and he's still got that look in his eyes. The look of just blind rage. I watch his hands clench into fists, and then relax, only to clench again. He's like an angry tiger in a cage, ready to pounce the second the door opens.

  That proverbial door comes in the form of one of the football players with his friends. He's about the same size as Zane, wearing his Varsity letterman jacket, and he accidentally bumps shoulders with Zane while he's distracted saying something to his friends. He doesn't even look back when he runs into Zane, just keeps walking and talking animatedly, waving his hands and shoving his friends like a typical jock.

  Zane reacts almost instantly, like a coiled spring. He lunges, and I sit up straighter with a surprised gasp as he tackles the football player into a nearby table. A couple girls sitting at the table scream and scramble away as Zane and the football player land on their food.

  "Whoa!" Mason exclaims, his eyes fixed on the fight as Charlie and Olivia turn around to look at what all the commotion is.

  "Jesus, didn't Peterson get in a fight this morning too?" Olivia asks. "What a hothead."

  Mason and Charlie murmur in agreement as they watch, but I can't agree with that. Zane isn't a hothead. He's actually a calculating and intelligent bully, as far as bullies go. He doesn't just strike. He gets at people's weaknesses and finds his way under their skin. He's isn't a brute. But he's acting like one today. This is his second fight in only a few hours, at least that I've seen. There could have been more.

  Zane and the football player roll off the table and crash to the floor, taking swings at each other. People scramble out of their way, and a couple of the football player's friends reach down to try to pull Zane off of him. Zane swings his fist back and catches one of them in the nose before turning back and continuing to hit the first guy.

  The fight is extreme, but it doesn't last very long. Victor comes running into the cafeteria, and a few other adults overseeing senior lunch step in, pulling Zane and the jock off of each other. I can't hear them from where I am, but Victor is saying something to Zane, and he looks like he's trying to calm him down. Zane is red-in-the-face angry, and I'm surprised that I can't see smoke coming from his flared nostrils. He flips Victor off, and Victor's mouth sets in a grim line.

  I watch as Zane and the football player are escorted out of the cafeteria. The crowds disperse again, much like they did this morning, and Charlie and Olivia turn back around. "Damn," Charlie mutters. "What's got his panties in a twist?"

  Mason pops a Skittle into his mouth. "You think it has something to do with what happened in the woods?"

  Olivia glances between the three of them. "What do you mean? What happened in the woods?"

  "Oh, it was crazy!" Charlie exclaims, "We were having this ghost hunt—"

  "A what?"

  "And Zane came out of nowhere all covered in blood and like totally high and stuff. It was insane!"

  Olivia's eyebrows shoot up. "Really?"

  Mason nods. "On Friday," he confirms. "It was me, Charlie, Ariel, and Kira out there."

  "What the hell were you doing ghost hunting?" Olivia asks, and I zone out of the conversation as they start rambling on about Elsa Hartley again. I stare at the girls across the cafeteria cleaning up the remains of their lunches that Zane and the football player landed on, and people around them are gossiping in hushed voices to each other.

  Zane isn't in math class later, which isn't a surprise to me. I sit there lost in thought, occasionally glancing back at the desk where he usually sits across the room, as if he will suddenly magically appear. I realize I'm worried about him, which is just stupid. I just need to finish up with today, go to theater this afternoon for rehearsal, and then go home and forget about Zane Peterson.

  I need to stop this madness in my head.

  28

  Zane sits in detention after school that day, staring at the clock the entire time, despite the fact that he knows time goes slower when you stare at the clock. He just wants to get out of here. He needs to leave so he can go smoke or drink or beat someone else up. Maybe all three.

  He's been in two fights today and he still doesn't feel any less angry. How many fights is it going to take? How long before he can just get the fuck over what happened at Ghost Town? Sure it only happened three days ago, but who cares? Liam needs him to be okay. His friends need him to stop acting like a psycho. And he needs himself back. He needs to sleep. He needs to breathe. He needs to be able to eat and think at the same time without feeling like he's going to hack up his gall bladder.

  There aren't that many other students in detention with him. It's difficult to earn a detention the day you get back from Thanksgiving Break, but leave it to Zane to accomplish that. The jock douche he fought with at lunch today is sitting on the other side of the classroom with a black eye, glaring at him, but Zane doesn't care. Maybe he and the kid can go for round two outside after detention lets out.

  His cell phone vibrates in his pocket, and he glances up at the detention supervisor to see if she noticed before fishing it out. He keeps it under his desk and out of view when he flips it open. It's a text from Noah, telling him to meet at The Docks after detention and they can all go to Ghost Town. Zane's hand tightens so hard on
the phone that he almost breaks it again for the second time today.

  He does not want to go to Ghost Town. He can't. He can't go back there. Not this soon. He feels like such a fucking wimp for it, but he can't. Just thinking about those old train cars sends an electric wave of chills up his spine, and suddenly his fingertips are ice cold and his temples are beading with sweat. This is stupid. He shouldn't feel this way.

  By the time the detention supervisor says they can leave an hour later, Zane is sweating bullets and he's scared and he's still so fucking angry he's having a hard time breathing. He kind of wants to wait for that jock and beat the shit out of him, but the guy stays behind in the classroom for a minute to talk to the teacher, so Zane just keeps walking. He has to get out of this school, now. The detention is held in The Dungeon (how appropriate), so the hallway is smaller, the ceiling lower, and the lights dimmer, and it's all so claustrophobic.

  Zane bursts out of the school and sucks in a deep breath of the icy air, filling his burning lungs, trying not to have a panic attack. God, why is this so hard? He's Zane fucking Peterson, he should just get the fuck over it already. So Slate attacked him. So what? It's not like he was fucking sodomized. So why is he freaking out so much? Why is he so mad? Why does he scrub his back raw every time he's in the shower now? Why are his scars burning and aching like there's fire living inside him?

  He leans against the side of the school for a minute just trying not to pass out, tunnel vision fading. When he opens his eyes, he's surprised to find that it's snowing. Not much, just the occasional flake drifting past his face like it just started. It's cold as hell out here, and he hugs his jacket tighter around himself, sniffing and rolling his neck before setting off towards The Docks. He can't go home right now. He doesn't want to scare Liam with the way he's acting, because lord knows he's been scaring Liam and himself the past few days enough as it is.

  Noah, Ryker, and Gordon are all at The Docks when he gets there, and they stand as he arrives.

  "You ready?" Gordon asks.

  Zane swallows back the urge to start screaming. "Can we just hang out here today?" he asks, in the nicest voice he can muster, which turns out sounding like a growl.

  His friends all glance at each other, and then they shrug. "Sure," Noah says, gesturing towards the space on the cement slab next time him. "Have a seat."

  Zane lifts the corner of his mouth very briefly in thanks, sitting down and accepting the cigarette Noah hands him without question. It feels good to have a smoke now. He didn't get one at lunch, what with being too occupied fighting a douche jock and all. Ryker and Gordon start up their own conversation, and while they're occupied, Noah leans in towards Zane and talks low.

  "You wanna tell me what's going on with you, mate?" he asks. "I heard you got in two fights today."

  "Shut the fuck up, Noah," Zane growls shortly, not looking at him. He will not be talking about this with anyone. He actually full-body shivers as a new wave of anger rolls through him. Noah just stares at him for a moment, and then leans away, fishing in his backpack and pulling out a bottle of Glencraig whiskey, cracking it open and handing it to him.

  Zane looks at it, and then glances at Noah, and Noah gives him a little smile.

  "Do the honors?"

  Zane just eyes him for a moment, and underneath all the anger he's feeling right now, he feels a swell of gratitude. This cocky British dirtbag is the best friend he has, and while it doesn't mean much, he's grateful for it. He swallows and takes the whiskey, giving in a smell first before tipping some back down his throat.

  It's awful stuff, but Noah once told him Glencraig is his favorite, so he doesn't complain and allows the alcohol to do its work. Ryker and Gordon join in with the drinking a few minutes later, and together, the four of them drain the bottle impressively fast, feeling the heat of it in their guts as snow continues to slowly fall, drifting like feathers. They hide the bottle a couple times as Victor saunters around the corner of the building on his rounds.

  Usually, when Zane drinks, he forgets about his problems. But right now, it's having the opposite effect. All the alcohol is doing to him is inhibiting his ability to control what he thinks. He has no power to stop his brain from going back over what happened on Friday. He sees Slate's bloody face in his head. He feels him thrusting against his back, and hot semen soaking into his shirt. He feel a hand around his dick, squeezing painfully, a fingernail pressing into his slit. He feels his forehead impacting the floor of the train car.

  He can't stop it. He has no control over his mind right now, just like he had no control in that train car. He has no control. He needs control. He needs this to stop. Noah and Gordon and Ryker carry on chatting away drunkenly beside him, but he can't do it. He can't focus on having a normal conversation when his emotions are like a hurricane caught in a glass jar. He feels like he's going to explode. His heart is beating impossibly fast once again, and his throat is constricting, and he just wants someone to bleed. He needs to kill. He wants to kill Slate. But he's in the hospital, and Zane needs to kill now.

  He has no idea how long they sit there after they finish the bottle of Glencraig. He brain is at war with his body, and he can't even listen to his friends. He's going to fucking lose his mind if he doesn't hit something. He's nearly blind with the rage by the time Noah nudges his shoulder and snaps him out of his daze.

  "Check out Riley with her little girlfriend," he chuckles, and Zane blinks a couple times. His eyes are watering with fury, but any mention of Ariel is enough to break him free of his trance for just a couple seconds at least. The girl is like a fucking lighthouse to Zane's lost ship of a brain.

  "Is she a dyke or what?"

  All four of them look over and see Ariel exit the theater with a red-haired girl. Zane has a class with her—Charlie Cooper, if he remembers her name correctly. It doesn't matter right now. His ears are ringing. He can barely hear anything above the sound of his own blood pumping. He watches as Charlie and Ariel step outside of the theater, and they smile and hug themselves against the cold, laughing about the fact that it's snowing a little.

  Charlie rubs her bare arms, blowing into her hands, and Zane watches as Ariel shrugs out of her sweatshirt—a dorky thing with alligators on it—and hands it over to her. Charlie protests, but then accepts the jacket and puts it on, leaving Ariel there in just her ratty jeans and overly-large T-shirt that has a Seattle Seahawks logo on it.

  Zane almost smiles. Deep down somewhere in a distant part of his mind, he thinks it's sweet that Ariel gave Charlie her jacket because she doesn't have one. But right now, those thoughts don't seem to matter. Right now, Ariel is meat. And Zane is a fucking bulldozer.

  As Charlie and Ariel say their farewells across the parking lot, and Charlie heads off towards the front of the school, Ariel turns and begin to walk to the woods, hugging her arms against the cold, her backpack looking somewhat empty on her back. Zane supposes no one really got too much homework today, given that it's the first day back after break.

  The four of them watch as Ariel disappears into the trees, and when she does, Zane sits there for a moment, heart racing and throat burning. Ariel is right there. And Zane is so angry. It's the perfect opportunity. There's no one else around here to take his anger out on anyway, besides his friends. And he won't do that. Because he needs them, no matter how much he dislikes them. So that leaves just Ariel.

  Before Zane knows what he's doing, he's standing up, a little dizzy from the alcohol, but mostly lightheaded from his anger. He starts walking towards the trees after her, and Gordon, Ryker, and Noah hesitate before standing up and following him. He doesn't really care whether they come with him or not. He's going to hurt Ariel either way, alone or with his friends.

  He starts to see that red again as he enters the trees, and this time there's no blue to combat it. Zane is seeing red. It's not an acid trip, it's not blood. He's quite literally so angry that everything is red, like the walls of hell itself. The trees are dark and
they seem to tilt inward towards him. He feels teeth sinking into the back of his shoulder and fingernails digging into his scars. And it makes him angry.

  Who the fuck does Slate think he is, that fucking piece of shit? Where does he get off doing the things to Zane that he did? Why does Zane care so much? What the fuck is wrong with him? What the fuck is wrong with everybody?

  He needs to draw blood so much that he can taste it.

  The douchey jock and the big lunk in the hallway he'd beaten up today weren't enough. He needs more. He needs to kill Slate.

  Zane and his friends catch up to Ariel quickly, the mess of dark hair and pale skin walking at a leisurely pace through the woods. She doesn't look back as they approach, and Zane belatedly realizes she's wearing headphones.

  She can't hear them coming. It's perfect. It's horrible.

  Zane reaches her first, and grabs her shoulder, startling a surprised yelp out of her. He spins her around, and sucks in a shocked gasp when, instead of Ariel's face, he sees Slate's. Slate is grinning at him, all teeth and bloody bitten tongue and rancid breath. Zane stares at his face for a moment, and his eyes are watering, he's so livid. His heart is hurting his ribs it's pounding so hard, and he can't breathe. He can't breathe.

  Distantly, he sees Ryker come up behind Ariel—no, Slate—and pull her headphones off, stealing her iPod, and Gordon is there too, tearing her backpack off. Zane doesn't care. He doesn't care what they do. Because he's swinging, before his brain even catches up to what's happening. His vision is tunneling, and he throws the first punch.

  Slate—no, Ariel—crumples to the ground with the impact of the punch, and Zane is on top of her in an instant, swinging, landing punch after punch, eyes so teary he can barely see, face boiling hot, the back of his neck coated in a cool sweat. He's lost his mind, and right now all he can focus on is the hurt. He wants to get it out of him, get this pain out from inside him. It's overflowing, and he just wants to give it to someone else. Hurt someone as much as he's hurting. He wants Slate dead, but Ariel will have to do for now. What's the difference, right? They're both just bags of meat.