by Katie May
“There. You should be all set. Just make sure to reapply it every twenty four hours. Or I can. You can come to my lab in the basement at anytime. No charge.”
For some reason, his proclamation causes the other three men to inhale sharply. Well, two men. Hux is still staring at me intently, eyes roaming my skin and checking for an injury that doesn’t exist.
I wrap my arm around Frankie’s waist and smile gently.
“Thank you, Frankie. Truly.”
His eyes meet mine, and I’m struck by the color. They appear to almost be golden flecked with spots of brown. They’re beautiful, ethereal, and I know I can stare into them for hours and never tire. He’s staring at me just as intently as I am him. Finally, he clears his throat and scrambles to his feet.
“It’s whatever,” he mumbles sheepishly, cheeks burning.
“Ohhh...Frankie has a crush,” Mason says in a singsong voice, earning himself a punch from both the wind and Hux.
Straightening to his full height, Frankie pushes past Mason and stomps forward, towards the edge of the woods. Only when he’s out of earshot, lingering at the tree line with his head lowered, do I glare at Mason.
“Don’t be an ass,” I warn him. “He was being nice.”
The wind snorts in derision, pulling my attention off of Mason. “Frankie is never nice. You may think I’m a dick, but that man? He always has an agenda. A plan. I rule this school with my strength, but he rules it with his brains. A liar and a crook.”
Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I jump to my feet and stand toe to toe with the asshole.
“He’s my friend. Don’t talk about him like that.”
“Oh, so now you’re talking to me,” he snaps, his face inches from mine. His breath caresses my face; his nose is nearly touching my own.
“And I already regret it.”
“Don’t fucking be like this.” His tone turns pleading, desperate. “I let you beat me with a fucking arm. What more do you want from me?”
“An apology would be sufficient,” I say.
“Speaking of arms…” Mason’s head appears over the asshole’s shoulder, and he smiles encouragingly. “What happened to the arm you borrowed?”
“Left it for him in the lost and found.” I wave my hand dismissively, still focused wholly on the asshole and his asshole hair and his asshole perfect body. And his actual asshole.
I have no restraint.
“Do you know what you do to me?” the wind asks me, stepping even closer. I can see fireworks of brown in his eyes.
“Irritate you?” I guess.
His lips quirk.
“Among other things, yes.” The smile fades, and he takes my hands in his. “Violet, I’m sorry for the way I treated you in the cafeteria. I was just trying to protect you, I promise. My friends and family can be…”
“Evil?” Mason pipes in helpfully, once more ruining the moment. Both Vin and I whip our heads in his direction.
“Shut up, Mason,” we quip in unison.
“Okay, but why?” I question, focusing once more on Vin. And yes, he’s Vin now. He’s not completely out of my shit bowl (i.e. a toilet), but he’s no longer public enemy number one. “Why me? Why did you come up to me, of all people? Did you come to kill me?”
His face slackens with horror at my final statement, and Hux, behind me, inhales sharply.
“No!” Vin says vehemently. He shakes his head. “No, it’s not like that. I want to protect you. I need to.”
“Why is that, brother?” Mason asks suspiciously. If even Mason is suspicious, you know shit’s about to go down.
Because in a span of days—hours?—four guys have clung to me like a bunch of spider monkeys, and I’ve been helpless to resist them. Now, I just need to understand why.
“Look, can we talk about this later?” Frankie asks, storming back towards us. Apparently, he got bored waiting by himself. “I hate fight class. It would be nice if we got a pass for the rest of the week.”
“You already have a pass,” Mason mutters, but he drops the accusatory glare he was aiming at Vin.
“I worked hard for that pass,” Frankie retorts with an imperious upwards tilt to his chin.
“You sold drugs,” counters Vin, stepping away from me. One step. Two steps. Three steps. It’s only then do I feel like I can breathe again.
“Hard. Work,” Frankie stresses. “Now come on. We’re down to forty minutes. And we haven’t found any flags.”
“Frankie’s right,” I reply. This confrontation can wait for a later date. I need to get straight answers from each and every one of them...but not now. Now, we need to kick some flag ass. “I want an A in this class, so let’s get to work. Where should we look first?”
Vin seems relieved for the conversation to be over.
“We were thinking maybe inside the student houses. Or around that area. Everyone would’ve found the ones in the forests, in the academic buildings, and in the dorms,” a soft voice says, and I turn towards Jack in surprise. His hair once more hangs in front of his eyes, and his glasses are back in place.
“Jack?” I ask. “Where did Hux go?”
His face falls in disappointment.
“Oh. I can grab him if you want.”
He sounds so depressed, so forlorn, that all I want to do is take him in my arms and hug the shit out of him. Maybe buy him a puppy. Puppies can make even the loneliest person happy—just look at the Grinch.
“No!” I say quickly, lifting my hands up. When he blanches at my sharp tone, I work to soften it and my features. “I’m sorry. I just meant I like both of you. In different ways, of course. I just wish you could both be here at the same time.” I sigh wistfully, and Jack echoes it.
I wonder if Hux is there right now, looking out through Jack’s eyes. Seeing what he’s seeing. Feeling what he feels. I wonder if Jack was there when I talked to Hux.
Would it be rude to ask?
The rest of his words come to me then, and I turn towards the boys in surprise.
“Wait. What fucking houses?”
Apparently, the upperclassmen have big, fancy houses a mile away from the school. It’s a bit of a trek, cutting through the cemetery and forest, but it is so fucking worth it.
All shapes and sizes, the off-campus houses have everything from balconies to wrap around porches to stained glass windows. One house stands a little taller than the rest with a gabled roof and numerous turrets. Mason elbows me slyly as we step in front of it.
“That’s our house,” he says, indicating the three other guys.
“Your house? You guys live together?” If my voice sounds incredulous can you blame me? I didn’t even know they knew each other let alone liked each other enough to be roomies.
In answer, Mason winks.
Numerous images assault me. Namely, being the fifth roommate to this gorgeous bunch. Emphasis on the room part of the equation. This freeloading bitch won’t need her own room. Nope, not me. I’ll be perfectly content to hop from one room to another like a mythical tooth fairy collecting orgasms instead of teeth.
Wait…
Is the tooth fairy real as well?
“I found one!” Frankie calls, and I’m pulled from my inner ramblings. He stands in front of a flagstand with a billowing flag raised. Just underneath it, tied to the pole itself, is the red flag we’ve been instructed to grab.
“Fuck,” Mason curses. “How are we supposed to get it?”
If I were to estimate, I’d say it was about twenty feet off the ground—give or take twenty feet (I’m not a good estimator). Either way, it’s too tall for us to reach out and grab.
“We might have a ladder in the basement,” Vin says, nodding towards their house. He jogs through the wrought iron fence and disappears inside.
“I can see about a potion,” Frankie mumbles, already pulling off his backpack and digging through it. This time, he pulls out a...is that a liver? A Barbie doll head. Something that resembles a vintage record. A bunch of pine cones.
I could hide a body in there.
And with that…
“Let me get it.” I crack my neck from one side to the other. I don’t really need to crack it, but I think it makes me look cooler. More badass.
“Um...what exactly are you planning on doing?” Jack asks with concern.
“Running and jumping, of course.” I thought the neck cracking made it obvious.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” asks Frankie, still crouched over his clown backpack. “I mean, you did trip while walking in gym class.”
“Running in gym class,” I correct snottily. “Have a little faith in me.”
“Pinkie, I want a lot of my things in you, but is this the best idea?” Mason chimes in.
“Just watch me be a total badass,” I assure them with a wicked grin. Keeping my eye on the pole—and our prize—I begin to back up until I’m at the edge of the lawn about twenty feet from the pole, give or take twenty feet (again, I’m terrible at estimating). “You ready?”
“I can’t watch this,” Frankie groans, turning away. Mason gives me a thumbs up. Jack just looks pained.
Before I can chicken out, I break into a run. For a moment, I feel suspended—weightless. The rest of the world disappears in a blur around me until all that exists is the flagpole and me. My prize and me. When I’m in close enough range, I kick off from the ground, using my strength to give me a much needed boost, and jump.
I can see it, a hair’s breadth away. So close. So. Close.
My head bangs against the flagpole, and I fall unceremoniously onto the concrete.
“Ow…” I moan, holding my forehead. Everything hurts. My back, my legs, my fucking head from the damn, traitorous flagpole. Even my vagina hurts from that fall.
Three sets of feet surround me, and I peer through the blinding sun at Jack, Mason, and Frankie. Mason winces when he meets my gaze, and Frankie crouches down, handing me a pink concoction.
“For the pain,” he explains.
“She hit the flagpole?” Vin calls from wherever the hell he is.
“Yes,” all three men say together. “Bring the ladder.”
“I fucking hate you all,” I gripe, still holding my forehead. I hear the clink of the ladder, the pounding of footsteps, and then—
“Got it!” Vin says only a second later, and I turn to see him waving the red flag in the air.
When a monster loses to a fucking ladder…
Violet: zero.
Ladder: one.
Chapter 16
Frankie
I’ve dealt with my fair share of monsters. My entire job is dependent on forging these connections and evoking trust in my clients.
But never, in all of my history, have I met someone like Violet.
While she’s a monster, she isn’t cold. If anything, she’s warm. Real and vibrant, slowly melting away the icy fortresses erected around my heart with painstaking finesse. And while I have seen numerous bodies before—male and female, naked and fully clothed—I’ve never experienced such a carnal reaction as I do with her. I’ve never before wanted to strip someone completely and learn their body through touch alone.
These feelings are immensely dangerous—ones that should be discouraged.
She’s going to burn me, of that I have no doubt, but I’m going to welcome the pain.
To my utter amazement, her body heals itself right before my very eyes. If this had happened to anyone else, I would’ve wanted to study her in detail, plan a way to profit off of the unimaginable.
But with Violet, all I can do is marvel and be relieved she has this protection.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Now, she’s a few feet ahead of me, skipping through the forest like some real life Red Riding Hood. Mason, of course, is skipping right alongside her with a raucous laugh patented only for her.
Vin and Jack hang back with me.
These men have been my roommates since my first year, but I’ve never felt as close to them as I do now. I would’ve considered ourselves mere acquaintances only a day or so ago. Not friends, but not necessarily enemies.
“She’s...enthusiastic,” Vin says, watching Violet jump off the ground in a feeble attempt to catch a butterfly. She falls to the ground, laughing hysterically, and Mason picks her up by the waist and spins her around.
“She’s in a lot of danger,” Jack murmurs softly, and both Vin and I whip our heads in his direction, trying to discern if what he just said is a threat or a warning. He isn’t looking at us, however, but at the golden-haired beauty currently clinging to Mason’s back. “Hunters. Other monsters. She’s Dracula’s one weakness, and the other monsters know that. It’s a wonder why Dracula sent her here in the first place.”
“I can handle the hunters,” Vin says resolutely, and I give him the side-eye.
“But—”
“I said I can handle the hunters,” Vin repeats with a dangerous glint to his eyes. This motherfucker is scary on most days, but add in that glint? He’s downright terrifying.
“We need to protect her,” I reason. Violet has now taken to...to somersaulting? Why the fuck is that girl somersaulting on the forest floor?
“Agreed,” Jack and Vin reply in unison. When Vin pulls his attention away from us, becoming fully enamoured with Violet’s antics, I turn towards Jack.
“I might be able to help with your little issue,” I say with a shrug of my shoulders. His brows scrunch in confusion, but he doesn’t cease his walking.
“What do you mean?”
“You and Hux,” I explain. “I might be able to help with that.”
His eyes widen slightly, marginally, as hope and fear dance within their depths. He looks as if he desperately wants to believe me...but doesn’t want to hope for a whimsical fantasy.
But I make a career out of whimsical fantasies.
Before he can reply, a scream ruptures the serenity of the forest. Not just any scream.
Violet’s.
Ice cold terror steals all the warmth from my body. It reminds me of the Abominable Snowman trailing a finger from the nape of my neck to the middle of my back.
I break into a run—yeah, I’m just as shocked as you are—a few steps behind Vin and Jack. Curse my chubby legs.
The tension thrumming through my muscles somewhat alleviates when I see Violet safe and sound, snuggled into Mason’s chest. He’s holding her tightly, one hand stroking her mane of hair and the other wrapped around her waist. His attention, however, is on the forest floor.
Correction: the dead body on the forest floor.
From an analytical standpoint, I see that the death was recent, the color having yet to drain completely from her face. I also note that it’s a female with an abnormally generous amount of hair.
The last thing I catalogue away is the way she died. The bite marks evident on her tan neck.
“Fucking hell,” Vin murmurs, anxiously running a hand through his hair. He backs up a step, pauses, and then stumbles forward. With hopeless abandon, he presses his fingers to the woman’s neck, checking for a pulse. I know, even before he solemnly shakes his head, that he wouldn’t find one.
“I know her,” Violet cries softly, voice muffled from where they’re being spoken into Mason’s shirt. Mason shushes her gently, still stroking her hair, but she continues on dogmatically, “Her name is Ali, and she was in my first class with me. Do you remember, Jack?”
She lifts her gaze to meet Jack’s. His nod is more hesitant, more calculating, but it only makes the wheels in my head spin faster and faster.
“She tried to attack me,” Violet continues, voice edging on manic disbelief. Has she never seen a dead body before? I realize immediately that sounded heartless, even mentally, and focus instead on the matter at hand.
This girl tried to attack Violet...and now she’s dead.
<
br /> With vampiric-like wounds on her neck.
I exchange a long, loaded glance with Vin before glancing once more at the body.
With clinical detachment, I lean down and—being careful not to touch anything—survey her body and wounds with renewed vigor.
The wounds haven’t scabbed over yet which means the perpetrator hadn’t actively tried to heal the bitemarks. Only a lick from a vampire is capable of that. Not even their salvia—though heavy in venom—can heal a wound completely. These two are still bloody and raw, but no longer bleeding as profusely as I had no doubt they once were.
And…
And the cuts are too meticulously clean, the type of work you would get from a knife.
A vampire did not kill this woman.
“They’re trying to frame me,” Violet says in horror, obviously coming to the same conclusion I had.
“Can’t we test the venom or something? See who actually killed her?” Mason asks anxiously, clutching Violet even closer as if he wishes to meld with her and become one.
“It’s not a vampire,” Vin responds tiredly. I can see his mind rapidly sifting through possibilities, through suspects. People who want Violet dead. People with an agenda against Dracula.
The list is too long.
“It’s not?” Mason buries his face in Violet’s hair, his body shaking. Or hers is shaking. It’s becoming increasingly hard to differentiate.
“Someone obviously wanted to frame the vampires,” I say. “And if I had to wager a guess, I’ll say that they placed Violet’s venom on the ‘bite marks’ just in case it was tested.”
“Who the fuck would do that? How would they have even gotten my venom? The only person I drank from was Vin. So who did this? Who’s framing me?” Violet rapid-fires, parroting all of our thoughts. She finally removes her head from Mason’s chest and glances at each of us before lowering her gaze to the body. “And what do we do now?”
We. I’ve never been a ‘we’ before, and despite the terror of what we found, the fear of what is to come, I feel an excited tremor reverberate through my body. I really wouldn’t mind being a ‘we’ with Violet.