by Katie May
Why do I have a feeling it’s going to eat away my insides?
The second it would’ve broken skin, Frankie turns away from me with a ferocious roar, aiming the needle at Headmaster’s neck instead. I have the pleasure of seeing the werewolf’s eyes widen in shock as Frankie barrels down on him.
Candlelight catches on something in his hand, and I’ve only just opened my mouth to scream Frankie’s name when he falls to the ground, a knife protruding from his chest.
My anguished sob gets caught in my throat as Headmaster advances on me. He doesn’t even look ruffled after the fight, as meticulous as ever, not a hair out of place.
With an annoyed grunt, he picks up the needle Frankie discarded and advances on me. I can’t even look at him, at the man who will inevitably kill me. My eyes are locked on Frankie still lying on the ground.
He tried to save me. He attacked Headmaster for me.
He didn’t betray me.
As if he can read my thoughts, Headmaster crowds my vision. His eyes are pinprick black orbs, startling against his tanned skin. “I knew the monster couldn’t be trusted. Started asking too many questions.” He clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “This is why you shouldn’t have feelings. Look at what they do to you! Look at how they destroy you!” Something dark, harsh, distorts his features. “Did I ever tell you about my late wife?”
Ahhh there it is. The evil monologue.
“Let me guess?” I monotone. “Dracula killed her?”
His eyes widen slightly, almost imperceptibly. “No. Why the fuck would you think that?”
Now, it’s my turn to scrunch my brows in confusion. Did I just totally misread this moment?
“Because you have me tied up and want to kill me. I’m pretty sure it’s because of some vendetta against my father or vampires in general.”
“Not at all,” Headmaster assures me. “You’re father is actually a pretty good monster, and I have nothing against vampires. I’m killing you to stop the bad press all these murders are giving my school.”
I was way off the mark.
Shaking his head, he continues with his story. “Anyway…” He pierces me with a look that warns me to keep my mouth shut. “We were in love until she left me for another man.”
“Dracula?” I assume, desperately attempting to search over his shoulder for Frankie. Is he okay? Is he…?
I don’t even want to think about the dreaded d-word. I know a piece of me will die with him. A piece of me I’ll never be able to get back. The strength of my feelings migrates down my body, settling in my core and tightening my chest. Piece by piece, these men have chipped away my defenses I once thought were impenetrable. They have wiggled their way into my twisted, dark heart—I can’t lose them. Any of them.
Even if they did betray me.
Headmaster makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, pulling me back to the conversation at hand.
“Why do you think everything has to do with your family? That’s pretty vain, if I do say so myself,” he reprimands. “Now, if you don’t mind…”
For the second time in minutes, a strange substance is inches from my neck.
Motherfucker, this is not how I expected my Halloween to go when I woke up in the morning. Go to the party, they said. You’ll have fun, they said. Never mind that it was my idea in the first place.
Once more, before the needle can be injected into my neck, Headmaster releases a guttural roar. He throws his head back as red seeps through his suit.
Frankie stands behind him, twisting the dagger he had quite literally used to stab him in the back. My eyes roam over Frankie’s body and face, searching for injuries. I gape at his blood-free chest, the only evidence of his wound a cut in his shirt.
“You’re okay!” I sob. Frankie’s smile is shy, uncertain, as if he doesn’t know how it’s going to be received.
“As he said,” he nods towards the Headmaster on his knees. “I don’t have a heart.”
There’s so much hesitancy on his face. The mask has been broken, ripped to shreds, and in his place is a forlorn little boy. How long has he known about Headmaster? Why didn’t he tell me? Those thoughts echo in my head, and I can't stop myself from flashing him an accusing glare. He lowers his gaze demurely.
“I’m sorry,” Headmaster rasps.
A second later, he lunges for me, hand outstretched. Not even Frankie can stop him from sticking the needle in my neck and pushing the disgusting liquid into my body.
My wide eyes meet Frankie’s terrified ones.
If the apathetic Frankie is scared…
I’m fucked.
Chapter 40
Violet
I brace myself for the pain—afterall, there’s always pain. I’ve learned to compartmentalize it, to group it into tiny boxes before burying each one.
There’s the least harmful pain. A tiny sting or ache, barely on your radar. A paper cut, maybe, or your stomach after you eat spoiled meat.
And then there’s the medium pain: getting your leg chopped off, having your throat sliced, and even getting your still beating heart removed.
Finally, there’s the excruciating pain. The one that makes you curl into a ball as tears drip down your cheeks. The one that makes you beg for death and all it has to offer: period cramps.
When no pain immediately comes, I allow my eyelids to flutter open. Frankie has Headmaster pinned to the ground, an enraged roar flooding the room. It’s an odd sight to see—for as long as I’ve known him, Frankie has been gentle and quiet. The type of man to watch from the shadows instead of stepping into the light. He’s a monster, but he’s never been like the others. Frankie’s gentle. That’s not a word I usually use for monsters—and it sure as fuck isn’t one they like to hear—but it’s the only word capable of encapsulating Frankie’s silent strength.
He’s not vicious or cruel nor is he cold. There’s a warmth that radiates through him, even when he’s staring at me with dead, glacial eyes.
As he pounds his fist into Headmaster’s face, some of his warmth transfers to me causing my whole body to tingle.
He cares.
Probably not the time to think about that when you’re seconds from dying painfully.
And it’s definitely not the time to get the warm fuzzies over a crush.
“Enough already,” a cold, deadly voice snaps, and a second later, Dimitri Gray steps into the dimly lit room. His light hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, and he wears all black making him one with the shadows.
He slinks forward, a stealth to his gait I couldn’t even begin to replicate without tripping and dying. The next moment, he has Headmaster on his feet and a knife to his throat.
“What the fuck is going on now?” I exclaim. My mind feels sluggish, as if I’m wading through swampy waters. Seaweed tangles around my ankles, impeding my forward progress. Still, I forge on through waist-deep, disgusting water.
There’s answers somewhere in this room, and I’ll be damned if I don’t get them.
Ms. Stevens hurries into the cave, high heels clanking against the floor. Her wide eyes take in the scene with horror before she rushes to me.
“Diedre, if you would be so kind as to remove Ms. Dracula from the room,” Dimitri instructs, a clinical detachment to his voice that belies the fury radiating throughout his body. Ms. Stevens appears lightly dazed, but she complies, easily slicing through the ropes.
She must have a god-blessed knife. Only those are capable of cutting through this particular type of rope.
Once I’m free, wrists raw and bloody, I hurry to where Frankie still sits on the ground. He blinks rapidly, almost as if he’s attempting to focus. There’s a nasty bruise already forming around his right eye, and scratches mar his cheeks from Headmaster’s wolf claws. I’m grateful there’s no lasting injuries—bruises and cuts will heal.
When his eyes feast on me, he glances away quickly, almost as if he can’t bear the sight of my face. That hurts. Immensely so.
For reasons I
don’t want to divulge, I want him to look at me. See me. I want those cold eyes to dethaw the way they normally do.
“How are you feeling?” Frankie asks worriedly, eyes still locked on the ground.
His words remind me of what had transpired only seconds before. Namely, the unknown substance entering my bloodstream. And probably destroying my insides. I sit back and assess my injuries. Aside from my aching wrists and ankles from the ropes, I feel fine.
As if he’s privy to my thoughts, Dimitri sneers, “She’s fine. I changed out the liquid before you guys came down here.”
In some sort of weird synchronization, we blink at him.
The assassin huffs, rolling his eyes to the heavens. He won’t find what he needs to deal with me up there. I’m better suited for the warmer place, if you catch my drift.
Cue: a joke about me being too hot.
I’m too tired to think of one.
“I’m not an idiot,” Dimitri snaps, turning towards the Headmaster still held by knifepoint. “I knew about your plans even before the thought entered your mind.” His hard gaze flickers towards Frankie, but he addresses me. “I wasn’t sure if he could be trusted. I gave him a fifty/fifty chance of either killing you or saving you.” Frankie blanches at Dimitri’s assessment of him, face paling.
Fifty/fifty chance.
Huh.
Not even a seventy/thirty.
I’m actually kind of pissed that Dimitri has no faith in Frankie. Then again, I immediately thought he betrayed me, so I suppose I can’t judge.
“Now,” Dimitri continues, eyes glinting like chips of coal as he stares at Headmaster. “I almost didn’t accept the job.” At Headmaster’s questioning gaze, Dimitri rolls his eyes once more. “To kill you, of course. I almost refused the job and let you live. You were a good headmaster, and from what I saw, you cared for the students. I don’t just kill every random person.” He clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Unfortunately, you decided to go after a student—”
“A murderous student!” Headmaster interrupts, flashing me a belligerent glare. Dimitri shakes the man’s shoulder, knife pressing further into his skin.
“It’s rude to interrupt,” he says stoically. “Anyway, you only signed your own death warrant when you attempted to kill Ms. Violet Dracula. And now, I even have an excuse for disposing of you. A way for me to remain at the school. I saw you kidnap and attempt to murder a poor, defenseless student. What was I to do? When I tried to stop you, you attacked me. It was only self-defense. Isn’t that right, Diedre?”
Ms. Stevens still looks shaken up, but she manages a timid nod. “That’s right. I saw the entire thing.”
“You lying—”
Before Headmaster can finish his curse, Dimitri stabs the knife in his neck. Blood spurts out, and Headmaster’s hands immediately rise to squash the blood flow. His eyes are wide, dazed, helplessly glancing from person to person. They rest on Frankie, an eloquent plea in their murky depths.
Frankie. His assistant.
His partner in crime, apparently.
But Frankie merely turns his head away, expression blank.
Dimitri watches Headmaster fall to the floor in the disinterested way he regards everything. After a moment, he glances towards a pale-faced Ms. Stevens. “If you would be so kind as to escort Ms. Dracula back to the school, please?”
“I...um...yes. Of course. Come on, darling.” Ms. Stevens helps me to my feet, wrapping one arm around my waist. The touch isn’t necessarily comforting, but I don’t want to be that rude bitch who shakes it off after our headmaster was just murdered by an assassin/teacher.
Seriously, why would Headmaster even hire Dimitri in the first place, a known assassin? And who paid for the hit against the Wolfman?
Frankie stands up to follow us out, but Dimitri stops him with a bloody hand.
“Not you,” he says curtly. “We need to talk.”
“Dimitri—” I say on an exasperated sigh. His eyes don’t leave Frankie’s face.
“That’s Mr. Gray to you. And I want to hear from the man himself how big of a role he had to play in this…adventure.” His teeth are bared; his eyes, similarly, shine with an unparalleled fury. It’s a look designed to instill fear in his victims.
If Frankie’s shaking hands are any indication, it works.
“Go,” Frankie murmurs to me. Like Dimitri, he refuses to look at me. “I’ll be right behind you.”
But I can’t leave it like that. I won’t. There’s a reason winter turns to spring. A reason why the snow melts and flowers begin to bloom. A reason why leaves grow on previously skeletal branches.
There’s something beautiful about that growth, about the dethawing of ice. Something magical.
I yearn to see the ice diminish from Frankie’s eyes completely. Maybe I should be more cautious. Maybe I should be angry at him for not telling me Headmaster’s plan sooner. Maybe I should worry about his intentions.
Instead, I whisper, “I forgive you.”
Frankie tenses, hands balling into fists, but he doesn’t respond. It’s okay, I suppose. He doesn’t need to. Me forgiving him doesn’t mean I’m not pissed as fuck at him.
Dimitri pierces me with an unreadable look, breaking the staring contest he had with Frankie only seconds before.
“You’re too kind, Violet. That bleeding heart is going to cost you.” All this is said without any inflection, any emotion.
I shrug. It might...and it might not. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m a monster. My so called “bleeding heart” only goes so far. I forgive as many people as I murder.
Without humoring Dimitri with a response, I follow Ms. Stevens out of the tunnels.
Chapter 41
Vin
I don’t know how the fuck I got roped into prison guard duty. Honestly, I blame bad luck. Maybe I’m cursed. You can’t have a cock like mine without some repercussions.
Cal and Barret moan and bitch as I lead them to the upper level of the school. When I was asked to escort the two monsters back to their holding cell at midnight, I couldn’t refuse. It was in my Van Helsing blood to handle wayward monsters.
And the Boogeyman and Cupid? Definitely wayward.
“Just one more hour,” Cal pleads as I type in the now familiar combination on the door. It swings open on silent hinges revealing a pitch black hall of classrooms.
“Unless you want the magic that makes you spontaneously combust to kick in at midnight, I recommend getting your asses inside,” I instruct, already tiring of this conversation. I need to find Violet, to explain. I know she saw me and Cheryl together, but I had to make her understand.
When Cheryl cornered me, demanding an explanation for our breakup, I felt it was the least I could do. I never loved Cheryl, but she had been my girlfriend for the better part of five months. She dragged me into her room, tears brimming in her fucking awful eyes, and begged me to take her back. To love her the way I never could.
But it wasn’t as if I could tell her I found my fated mate in Violet, now could I? Van Helsings don’t have mates, and they sure as fuck don’t engage in relationships with vampires. I know my family will not hesitate to kill me and her if they discover I tarnished the Van Helsing’s prestigious name by fraternizing with the enemy.
Nothing happened between me and the viper. I told her, in no uncertain terms, to fuck off and leave me alone. Leave Mason alone. I may have threatened to stab her if she refused.
What can I say? I’m a monster through and through.
“I hate it here,” Barret says, but he doesn’t sound angry, only resigned. “It’s dark.”
“Is the Boogeyman afraid of the dark?” I ask, lifting a brow.
“I got used to the dark,” he admits after a long moment of silence. “I just don’t like being alone.”
Cal tries for a cheerful smile, but it comes across as forced. More like a grimace. “You have me! And I’m better than anybody. No offense,” he adds to me hurriedly.
“None taken.” I shru
g. “I don’t like people. Or monsters. Or anyone, really.”
Cal gives me a cryptic look, a look I can’t quite read, before saluting me.
“Tell Violet to come visit anytime,” he says. Barret’s face lightens up at the mention of my golden-haired, vampire mate. He practically bounces on the balls of his feet. “And you don’t have to be a stranger either.”
As the door closes automatically—right at midnight—I feel the slightest pang in my chest. It almost feels like...pity. I pity the two monsters forced to hide away from the rest of the monster population. Not dangerous enough to warrant a one-way ticket to Revenant, our monster prison, but not sane enough to join society.
What secrets are they hiding? Behind Cal’s bright, flirtatious smile and red wings? Behind Barret’s empty look and energetic smirk?
They seem relatively normal, so why all the secrets? Why are they kept locked up here, away from us? It can’t be just because they’re murderers...we all are. I know Cal relies on sex to live, and I know Barret eats human flesh.
But…
Violet drinks blood, werewolves eat humans, and more monsters than not kill humans and monsters alike. Why them? Why Cal and Barret?
Mind wandering, I head back down the steep staircase and through the main academic doors. I know that through the forest, the party will be in full swing. Violet will probably be dancing with Mason right now, giggling at one of his stupid, cheesy jokes. Or maybe she’ll be swaying side to side in Jack’s arms as he stares at her like she’s the only person in the world. Or Hux, with his hard stare that only softens in her presence. Or Frankie, who doesn’t quite understand what he’s feeling or why.
A couple runs into me as they emerge from the forest. I recognize the man from one of my classes. A wendigo, if I remember correctly. Zade or something. His female companion is not someone I recognize, but the translucent sheen makes me believe she’s a ghost.
“You heading to the party?” Zade asks, words slurring. There’s a special type of alcohol that can make a monster drunk. It involves fairies and toilets. But fuck, if I don’t drink the piss daily.