Sancte Diaboli: Part One (The Elite Kings Club Book 6)

by Amo Jones

“Fuck you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  “Watch that girl. She’s learning a little too quickly how to ride on my nerves.”

  “About as good as she rides on your dick?”

  “Tillie!” I hear Scarlet and Elena in the background.

  I chuckle. “Nothing comes close to her riding on my shit. I’ll see you later.”

  I hang up and push play on a random-ass playlist. “Popular Monster” by Falling in Reverse screams through my speakers.

  Saint

  I remember the first time I wore a dress. A really pretty one. It was one of the first purchases I made with Brantley’s black card and was a signature piece from Dolce & Gabbana. It had small black sequins sewn into the satin, with spaghetti straps that hung from my petite shoulders. I liked it but didn’t love it. I sent it back.

  I run my hands over this one, and the feeling I was hoping to feel when I wore that signature piece is the feeling I’m experiencing now. It’s an addiction, filling my veins with warmth, comfort. I think I have a shopping problem. This one is as pure in color as puffy clouds, but hugs my body tight. It falls to the ground at my feet, but has a single split that cuts right up over my hip bone. There are feathers that line the slit, the edges of the strapless area at the top, and the bottom of the train. Sequins are sewn into the bodice, where it dips between my breasts, which spill out the seams. Literally.

  “Okay, yes, this is it!” Tillie says from behind me, and my eyes catch hers in the arched full-length mirror. Scarlet’s home is chaos, with dresses, makeup, and workers running around everywhere, going between here and a hotel in Riverside. It’s two hours before we have to be there, and I’ve still yet to get my face made up.

  “Come sit,” Scarlet says, waving me over to a stool in the kitchen.

  I take my eyes off my dress and move to the chair.

  “How have you found fitting in?” Scarlet tries for small talk. She dabs a sponge in white SFX paint, before pressing it onto my cheek.

  “It’s been fine. Everyone has made it easy for me.”

  She smiles, showing a small slit of her straight white teeth. “I’m glad. I would hate to have to drive my Louboutin up their asses.”

  I chuckle, and my shoulders relax. Maybe being around her will be edifying. As she moves through the makeup steps, she explains why The Kings wear the skull face and the significance to their family history. I find it fascinating. I find the whole world they live in fascinating. She’s finished the skull, and is now moving on to glam makeup.

  She pauses with a foundation brush in her hand. “I’m sorry that I didn’t fight harder for you.”

  My lips part as my eyes come to hers. “You know about me?”

  She nods as a sprinkle of pink spreads over her cheeks. “I did. At the time, I was adamant that Hector was right. You needed to be with others around your speed, away from a world that could very well kill you, and if Katsia didn’t find out, then our enemies would have.”

  I sit in silence as she continues with brush strokes over my face. I don’t want to fill the silence with pointless words. “Did you know I was with Brantley?”

  The wrinkles around her mouth crease. I watch as she dips a shadow brush into one of the many palettes she has laid out on the counter. “I did. At the time, I didn’t agree with it.” Her eyes meet mine and she sighs, resting her hand on her hip. “You and Brantley, I suppose will reach a time in your relationship where this discussion will come up, as it has with Nate and Tillie, Bishop and Madison, and I’m sure every other King who finds his other half.”

  I don’t say anything, remaining silent to hear what she has to say. When Scarlet talks, she speaks to be heard but at volumes that don’t need to be yelled.

  “Ahhh, the famous FD.” Tillie comes into the kitchen, holding two glasses of champagne. She places one near me and another beside Scarlet.

  “FD?” I ask.

  Scarlet picks up her flute, taking a small sip of the bubbles, and then goes back to work on my makeup. “Full Disclosure. You will decide if you want to know everything, or if you want to know nothing, but let me just say that the ones who want to know nothing don’t last long.”

  “Well.” I blow out a breath as she works on my lips. “Brantley and I probably won’t reach that point.”

  Tillie laughs, Scarlet doesn’t. “Why do you say that?” she asks.

  “I know Brantley. He would rather push me away than have me near. He doesn’t—”

  “—he doesn’t think he deserves you,” Tillie adds as a maid wraps a mustered yellow dress around her waist. On other people, the color would be not so pleasant, but on Tillie, she looks perfect. That’s because Tillie’s body does most of the work.

  “That and he would rather just keep me at arm’s length.”

  “Sorry to break it to you, little sis, but arm’s length is not on top of that beautifully pierced dick.”

  Scarlet pauses, her hand hovering in front of my face. “I’ve known him since he was a baby. I’d rather not have an image of his cock in my brain, Tillie.”

  Tillie shrugs, smirking.

  I ignore her, and Scarlet continues with the makeup. I wish I could say I was busy thinking about tonight, but I’m too caught up in the disclosure talk. What would I choose, if I had the chance? I already know; I’d want to know everything.

  Once my face is done, my phone vibrates in my pocket as Scarlet packs everything away. She points to me. “You’re wearing something different. That hasn’t happened before.”

  I reach up to touch my face, but she shakes her head.

  Tillie comes in front of me. “What about Stuprum?”

  Scarlet rolls her eyes. “Hayes trumps Stuprum.”

  Tillie pouts. “So she gets half-Hayes and half-Vitiosis? Something tells me Bran Bran is going to be pissed about that.”

  Scarlet snickers cheekily. “I’ll meet you both outside in an hour. We will ride together with Elena and Tate.”

  “I’m sorry—what?” Tillie snaps, yelling at Scarlet who is now walking up the stairs.

  “Be nice, Tillie! Time to get over it.”

  Tillie huffs, dropping down in a chair. “I still don’t like her.”

  “Why?” I say, finally sipping on my champagne. “What happened?”

  Tillie goes off on filling me in on everything that happened between her and Tate.

  “But you’re both with different people now.”

  “I know, but you didn’t see how she was. I wanted to hit her. I would have hit her if she wasn’t Madison’s BFF.” She stands from her chair and picks up her phone.

  “I agree with Scarlet. You need to let it go.”

  “Would you?” she says, her brow quirked. “If it was Brantley?”

  “Well,” I say, opening the fridge to find the bottle of Moët. I start pouring more champagne into my glass. “I’m still talking to you, aren’t I?” Her mouth closes. “And anyway, I don’t think I’d ever have to worry about that.”

  “No, you’re right. You won’t because Brantley has control, taste, and standards.”

  “Nate has standards and taste,” I defend, tilting my head back to sip more on the happy juice. “He likes to have sex, so what? That’s his past. You need to let it go.”

  She sighs.

  I glare at her. “Promise to play nice.”

  “Can’t, but I’ll try.”

  “I’ll settle for that.” I move around the kitchen counter just as she brings her phone up and flips it to selfie mode.

  “Smile!” We take a series of photos before we make our way out the front door, just as another city car pulls up. Tate and Elena climb out, dressed in a similar style to us. Tate has naturally blonde hair, blue eyes, and a small frame. She’s the girl next door kind of pretty. I could see how she and Madison could have been close. Yin and yang, or maybe yang and yang. I haven’t quite figured that out. I wonder if my curse will intensify soon and I’ll be able to have all those kinds of special talents. Or, has it already?


  She’s not wearing any skull on her face, just professional makeup with winged eyeliner that could make Bailey Sarian jealous.

  “Hi, girls.” Elena bunches up her red gown in the palm of her hand. I get the feeling everyone is talking to Madison except Bishop, because if Elena wasn’t, I doubt she’d be donning such an aura of ease.

  That sort of makes me angry, but I swallow it down with yet another gulp of champagne. I can’t get involved any more in the logistics of what happens between Madison and Bishop. I’ve done what I can, and that has to be enough.

  “Hey.” I nudge Tillie’s arm as they both approach us. Tillie reminds me of a stray cat. Untamed and savage, but loyal under the right conditions.

  Tate’s eyes find Tillie. “Can we talk?”

  Tillie looks to me, and then back to Tate. “Sure.” They disappear to the side of the house while Elena stands beside me.

  “Nice night for it, don’t you think?” She fidgets with her dress before running her hand over the side of her hair. It’s tied in a side chignon bun.

  I smile. “Sure.”

  “Listen, I know that you went to see Madison…” Oh God. Again. “I just want to say thank you. She’s not had an easy life, so I just want to say thank you for being a good friend to her.”

  “No problem.” I squeeze my gold clutch, busying myself by pulling out my phone and flicking through the texts I received while I was getting ready. Anything to not allow the guilt of my secrets to cage me in.

  ?: It’s showtime.

  The hotel is on the central street of Riverside. With all of the shops closed and blinds drawn, there’s an unsettling feeling that sticks to my bones.

  “Why do people in this town despise The Kings?” I ask Scarlet as the driver pulls into the porte cochere of the five-star hotel. There are a fountain and crystal chandelier hanging over the middle, with valet drivers standing at the entrance.

  “They don’t, they’re just afraid of them.” She clears her throat. “Of us.”

  “Why?” I ask again. “Hector explained a little, but not a lot. I guess I just would like to understand.”

  “That’s okay.” Her hand is on my leg, as she shoots a glance at everyone else in the limo, who all remain silent. “I guess it started with our ancestors. There’s a rival club called The Gentlemen who are also from Riverside, but they’re from the east side, over the train tracks—” She pauses, squeezing my knee, which brings my attention up to her. “You must never go over those tracks. Ever. We are stronger, more powerful, and ruthless, but make no mistake, The Gentlemen will fight—even if they have nothing much to fight with.”

  “So you’ve always stayed away from each other?” I ask. “What about the people who live here?”

  “Well, they’re afraid of us because of the power that we hold and the legends that haunt the land. The Gentlemen have always stayed to their side of the tracks, but they’ve never bothered the people here either.”

  “Are most towns this—strange?” I find myself saying absently, while looking out the window.

  “This is nothing. Wait until you see Perdita…” Tillie grumbles. “Which, by the way, you also own half of.”

  I ignore her, the information too much. Too soon and too much. I’d heard of Perdita through distant talks from Brantley and the boys, but at the time it passed over my head. “What’s going to happen when the school is back open next week?”

  “Mmmm,” Elena says, leaning forward and reaching for the handle to the door. “I guess that’s the big question.”

  We spill out of the limo and make our way into the lobby. The vast space of it is nothing I’ve ever felt before, but once we reach the small theater room, I find my lungs expanding again. There are chairs and small tables scattered around the front, with a little makeshift stage in the middle where a piano is set up.

  My lungs turn ablaze now, my fingers twitching to skate over the keys.

  “Ahhh, you noticed,” Scarlet purrs in my ear. It’s a Steinway & Sons, there was no way I wouldn’t notice. “Hector thought it’d be nice if you played, and maybe sang, a couple of pieces throughout the night. Of course, you can decline. We have someone on backup if you decide to pass.”

  I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. I’d love to, for Bishop.” I drive home why I would do it, and when our eyes connect, elation bathes her features.

  “Thank you for caring about him.”

  “He’s worth caring for,” I mutter, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “Do you mind if I go and practice a little?”

  She shoos me away. “Of course.”

  I reach the edge of the stage and the light that shines down over me reduces to a warm sepia. I run my finger over the sleek gloss case. “Wow.”

  Taking a seat on the bench, I lift the case up and move the microphone away from my mouth. Placing my clutch down on my lap, I pull out my phone and hit dial on Madison’s name.

  She answers instantly. “Is he done?”

  “No.” I press my hand over my heart to make sure it’s still there securely. “Not yet. I need to ask you something. I have to play two songs tonight on the piano for his ceremony. I know one that I’m going to play, but do you have another that is significant to you both? Maybe a song that you—”

  “—yes,” she says softly, and I hear her sniff. “God, I wish I could be there.”

  “You should have…” I fight the urge to once again scold her for her poor decision.

  She clears her throat and tells me what song she wants me to play.

  I hit the speaker button and place my phone on top of the sheet stand. “Let me see.”

  “Am I on speaker?” she whispers harshly.

  “Yes, but it’s fine. They’re out on their hunt, or phase, or whatever it is that they’re doing.”

  Madison pauses.

  I breathe out through my nostrils while playing the tune over in my head before finally running my fingers over the keys. The keys hit all the notes I intend, and it’s the exact tune to the song.

  “Wow.” Her voice is quiet, a notch above a whisper. “That’s perfect.”

  I start humming the song with the notes.

  “That’s going to sound beautiful. Can you get Tillie to record it?”

  I pick up my phone and take her off speaker. “I will.”

  She sighs. “Thank you, Saint.”

  We hang up and I spend the rest of the next hour practicing both songs that I’ll be playing.

  Brantley

  The first thing everyone should most definitely know about all of us is that ending someone’s life comes as easy as one, two, three. We were dropping bodies when our friends were dropping alcohol shots in the club. It doesn’t affect any of us, and it never has.

  Not when we’d watch the life of someone slowly bleed from their eyes.

  Not when we’d know that person had a family to go home to.

  I wish I could say that everyone who has met the end of our blade deserved it, but truth is, at least for me, that’s not always the case.

  “You know who’s going down?” I ask Bishop, my eyes on his.

  He looks up at me from his phone, the dark night setting behind him. The light from his screen bounces off his face. “We could go clean and easy and dip into The List.”

  I lean against my car, crossing my ankles in front of me. “Clean and easy will never be clean and easy if they’re from that list, and you know it.”

  “Who was next anyway?” Eli asks, biting a cigarette into his mouth and lighting the tip.

  I shrug. “Not sure. I never know until the last minute.”

  “Who issues them? Do we know? Are we ever going to know?” Cash asks, running his fingers through his bleach-blond hair.

  “Yeah, I’m guessing after the ceremony, the wheels are going to start spinning a different direction as we all settle into our new roles.” Trees branch over us as we sit on the outskirts of Riverside. “Can’t believe just next week the schools will be reopened.”

  “
Personally, can’t fucking wait.” Nate smirks around the end of his smoke. He glances at Cash. “You can’t tell me you’re not ready for the next chapter. This is it. What we’ve been fucking living for.”

  “I am.” Cash nods. “That fucking school, though. You remember the legends… it’s fucking—fucked. It’s fucked.”

  I curl my lips between my teeth to stop from laughing. “Anything with us around it is fucked.”

  “All right, I got our kill.” Bishop flashes his phone on our face.

  I still. “What? Nah, fuck that.”

  He grins, turning the phone back around while kicking off the car. “Mmmm, smells a lot like death.”

  “Why?” I glare at him over the photo of Josiah Dux, aka Dux of The Gentlemen, and Elijah’s pops. “Why that person? And don’t give me bullshit about my shit.”

  Nate rubs his face with his hands. “We know it was The Gentlemen who hit us at the parking lot, B. We fucking know. We know it was them who drugged us, too. We just gonna let them walk?”

  “They weren’t the ones who drugged us. That wasn’t them. Too—clean.”

  Nate shrugs. “Well, shit, our bad if it wasn’t—or not.”

  I smirk, my shoulders relaxing. He has a point. Even if it wasn’t them who drugged us, which I’m ninety-nine percent sure it wasn’t, The Gentlemen have done enough to fuck with us to take it anyway. The shooting was reckless as all hell and had their stench all over it. “We get the last fucking say.”

  The night was quiet. Too fucking quiet. It took an hour to get our hands on three black G-Wagons just to pull this off.

  “Execution style. Keep it clean.” Bishop slips leather gloves over his hands.

  I clench my jaw. “We do this, we can’t come back from it. Don’t get me wrong, The Gentlemen have always been on my list, but I was waiting for their time to come for a reason.”

  Nate is in the passenger seat, tapping his thigh with his thumb along to the rap “Joker” by Dax. “Nah uh, they’ve been on borrowed time.”

  “Nate.” I bare my teeth, shoving the back of his chair. “You have shit to lose now. You can’t think recklessly.” Nate is erratic and rogue with his wrath. Complete opposite of me. I like to think it’s because I’m more controlled as a human being, but I know it’s more because I’m conditioned for murder. It’s like sipping tea on a Sunday. “You have Tillie and War.”