Ignited: a reverse harem bully romance (Kings of Miskatonic Prep Book 4)

by Steffanie Holmes

  And Trey – my mirror, my King of Kings, resplendent in his school uniform and his arrogant sneer. Just the sight of him would bring the Eldritch Club to their knees.

  But tonight wasn’t about the guys and how I felt about them. Tonight was for the students of Miskatonic Prep. I beamed up at my three Kings and at the others who had become part of our circle, and I silently vowed that whatever it took, they would be free tonight.

  “You’re still bragging that you beat me.” Trey placed a kiss on my neck. Inside me, my fire danced and sparked. I was so wired for tonight, all it would take was one little flame to set me off. An electric hum sizzled in the air – the pull of a cosmic god rousing himself from slumber one final time.

  Somewhere below my feet, the third pillar called to me. It wanted to be free.

  That pillar is ours.

  I sucked in a breath, gave Trey’s hand a final squeeze, and led the group through the door of his dorm.

  Showtime.

  In the hallway, we met Andre and Sadie. Greg had found Sadie a sequined gown amongst the theatre costumes that perfectly set off her dark skin and bold eyes. Andre looked like a million bucks in a pinstripe suit found in John Hyde-Jones’ closet.

  “You ready?” I touched Greg’s shoulder.

  Darkness passed over his eyes. I’d never seen that kind of black hole in Greg’s soul before he shot Damon. But he’d done it because he believed in what we were doing. He believed in me. Not sure anyone except my mom had ever really believed in me before.

  Greg nodded.

  The nine of us climbed down the staircase and stepped into the main dormitory corridor, where a few students still rushed around putting the final touches on their outfits. Heads nodded at us as we strode past in formation, our arms linked, our bodies tall and proud and strong.

  Down the empty corridors, through the drafty atrium, and outside, into the warmth of the approaching summer. The decoration committee opened the two outside doors to the gymnasium and set up a makeshift platform in front of the wall, with a lectern and rows of seats on the grass for the parents. If I squinted just right at the wall behind the stage, I could just make out the shape of the giant red cock Trey had painted there back in the second quarter.

  The entire area had been enclosed by flickering torches and braziers. It looked magical, but every detail served a specific purpose.

  Maintenance staff circulated with trays piled high with food and flutes of Champagne. A few looked up when we entered and snuck a moment of eye contact before quickly looking away again. A few teachers milled around, and we couldn’t risk them ruining our plan. We ducked behind the stage, following strings of fairy lights through a tunnel of vines into the gym.

  I gasped as we stood in the doorway and gazed up at the space – the gym had been transformed into a shimmering outer space landscape. Glitter covered the walls, throwing prisms of iridescent light against the backdrop of Cyclopean architecture decorated with flaming sigils. Silver runners crossed the tables, perfectly offsetting the matte-black crockery and centerpieces of green alien tentacles. One corner had become the bridge of a ship, with flickering buttons and computer screens. The decoration committee had truly outdone themselves.

  We’d chosen Back to the Future as our theme – Quinn’s idea. I think he’d imagined 80s movie trash and leg warmers everywhere, but Courtney had given everything her Midas touch and turned the gym into a classy spacey nightclub. She was talking about getting into event planning when she got her new life.

  I wondered if the Eldritch Club would appreciate the symbolism.

  Probably not.

  A faint tinge of the rotting smell followed us as we headed toward our table. I guessed the horrors in this room were etched too deep for a little disinfectant and some flowers to hide. I glanced up at the ceiling again.

  Is that a scritching I hear, or did I just imagine it?

  Scritch-scritch-scritch.

  Excellent. The rats were in place. Everything was ready. All we needed was our final sacrifice.

  We’d decided to have a little graduation party early in the day, so the students had this opportunity to celebrate before the adults got here and the real party began. Our own private celebration, the ending of one chapter, the opening of another.

  The buffet groaned under the weight of delicious-smelling foods. My stomach growled. That poor girl in me that never wanted to overlook an opportunity for a free meal took over, and I descended, snapping up a handful of potato chips and tiny salmon quiches. The best last meal I could hope for.

  “Let’s dance.” Quinn’s fingers rested on the small of my back as he led me toward the dance floor. As soon as we got amongst the other couples, his stiffness evaporated – he squeezed my arm and twirled me beneath his, then back the other way until I was dizzy and laughing. He smiled faintly, but couldn’t bring himself to laugh.

  We dipped and twirled and whizzed between the other dancers. I was supposed to feel apprehensive, to be mourning all I was about to lose. But instead, I’d never felt freer. As we fluttered about like dragonflies, Quinn stretched out a lazy leg just as Courtney spun past on Derek’s arm. She tripped over the hem of her dress and fell against him, giving Quinn the middle finger over Derek’s shoulder. We all broke into uncontrollable giggles.

  “This dance thing is actually quite fun,” I said as Quinn and I returned to our table. Trey and Greg sat together, both of them clutching long-stemmed glasses of something pink and sparkling while they talked in low voices about what might happen tonight.

  I dropped down between them. “If you two keep looking so glum, you’ll give the game away.”

  “Right.” Trey rested his hand on his cheek. His shoulders tightened.

  He wasn’t the only one waiting, milling. Tension tugged in the air – a breathless, palpable anticipation that tinged each conversation with nervous laughter. Everyone was waiting, tensing.

  It was a special day, after all. Graduation day. A day no Miskatonic Prep student ever expected to see.

  Across the room, a group hovered in the doorway while the ushers took coats and stoles. My breath caught in my throat as Vincent Bloomberg glided into the room with Tillie’s mother on his arm. Behind them were more Eldritch Club members, resplendent in glittering gowns and pristine suits that couldn’t mask their aging, frail bodies. They fanned out around the floor, elbowing students out of the way so they could get to the bar.

  The parents had shown up.

  Of course they did. We knew how to pull their strings like puppets. We knew what they cared about more than anything else, and it wasn’t their children.

  We’d hit them where it hurt – their money, their looks, their reputations. Which meant that we had power over them. They knew it, or they wouldn’t be here.

  Trey ground his teeth together. “They’re already celebrating,” he hissed. “My dad’s got something planned, and we’ve walked right into it. We need to—”

  “Ssssh. They won’t be celebrating for long.” I held out my hand. “You and me, we’re dancing. You need to calm down.”

  I pulled Trey onto the dance floor. Unlike Quinn, he didn’t joke around or even seem to notice other students brushing against him. He clung to me like I was the only thing holding him upright, his nails digging into my naked arm.

  The back of my neck itched, conscious of eyes watching my every move. When Trey spun me, I searched the faces in the crowd. It didn’t take long to spot Vincent standing near the entrance, one foot placed behind him like he was ready to run, a glass in his hand but never once touching his lips.

  “I don’t like this.” Trey’s teeth grazed my collarbone as he swung me around the dance floor. “It’s too much like last time.”

  He meant last time he’d been to a dance in the gym, when the parents had burned the whole place down.

  “It won’t be,” I promised. “I saw your dad. He’s nervous.”

  Trey’s eyes darted across the room again, resting on his father. “He’ll kill ev
eryone in this room.”

  “Not while Ms. West has Gloria. We’ve got this. Ignore him,” I whispered. “I am. Tonight isn’t about him.”

  That proved difficult. Vincent Bloomberg’s eyes followed me as I twirled across the hall in his son’s arms. His scowl burned into my back as I dressed up Trey with fairy wings and a wand for the photo booth in the corner.

  You tried to get rid of me, you bastard.

  Now it’s your turn.

  Tonight you get exactly what you always wanted.

  Trey tugged at his tie, swallowing every few moments. He couldn’t breathe in the gym. He felt hemmed in, burning up under his dad’s scrutiny. I walked him outside, and the rest of our group followed. We huddled under the glittering fairy lights and watched cars snaking up the long driveway – a river of shiny chrome and sleek fiberglass. The vehicles slid into the empty spaces of the visitors’ lot and when those were taken, they fanned out across the field, facing the gym. Probably they were parking close in case they had to escape in a hurry. Bodies floated out, doors slammed.

  “Welcome on behalf of the graduating class of Miskatonic Prep.” Trey stepped forward, the Class President in him taking over. He beamed as he led parents to their seats. “We hope you enjoy yourselves.”

  They played their part, taking the programs and arranging themselves in neat rows, accepting the flutes of Champagne but not drinking them. I noticed more than a few looking at the flaming torches with trepidation.

  Good.

  The teachers gathered everyone in the gym outside – students standing on the grass, the parents in the seats behind, faculty on stools at the rear of the stage. When everyone was seated, the school band struck up the national anthem. We all rose. I sang the words at the top of my lungs, my fist clenched over my heart.

  It was late in my life to develop pride in being a citizen of this country, of this planet. But a lump formed in my throat at the words.

  No. Be strong. You’re doing this for them.

  The minutes ticked down as the band played on and on. Finally, they set aside their instruments and welcomed Ms. West on stage. She wore a black sequined gown that hugged her body and a look of grim determination on her face. She never once made eye contact with me.

  A murmur went through the students as they clapped politely for the Deadmistress. The parents remained still and mute. My grip tightened on Trey’s arm. Soon, soon.

  Ms. West crossed the stage in three long strides, a triumphant smile splattered across her face. She stood, proud and silent, behind the microphone. Her eyes swept the room before settling on mine for the first time that day. Even now, that gaze could still turn my blood to ice.

  “Welcome to all our students who have been working hard all year. All years. Welcome also to their parents. I’m sure your children are so grateful you came to share this night with them. We have important business to attend to. But first, it’s time to announce the valedictorian and salutatorian – our two most distinguished students of this year’s class. This is a tradition we’ve had ever since the school opened, and we do so love our traditions here at Derleth.” She held a red-trimmed envelope between her long fingers.

  Students hooted and screamed as the band played through an upbeat version of Pomp and Circumstance. “We’ve kept tabs on all the merit points, and we can say that these two students were chosen because of their excellent service to the school, their unwavering loyalty to their friends, and a sizzling romance that has flourished under… trying circumstances.” Ms. West thumbed the envelope seal, pulling it away with a tearing sound. She opened the envelope and read the names with care. “Please welcome as salutatorian, Trey Bloomberg. And our valedictorian – the indomitable Hazel Waite.”

  Vincent’s face when he heard my name was worth everything I’d been through. Everything. That the empire he built could betray him so openly, that a lowly girl like me could be raised up in the eyes of the other students to stand beside his flesh and blood tore at his reality.

  Even though he planned to be rid of us all, it still enraged him that I was up here. You ain’t seen nothing yet, Vinnie boy.

  Trey’s hand in mine burned with heat as we took the stage together to accept our sashes. As Ms. West lowered the sash around my neck, the corner of her lip tugged into the faintest smile. “You should enjoy this,” she said. “Together, you and I have made history. The world will remember our names.”

  Not if I can help it.

  In another life, before the fires, before I made the biggest mistake of my life, I might have stared out into the audience and seem my mother in the front row, wiping tears of joy from her eyes. Dante might’ve been beside her, flipping me the bird with a wild grin on his face. Instead, I faced rows of parents who only considered themselves, who bent the world to their will and thought nothing of damning their own flesh and blood for their own gain.

  The parents were too afraid to be angry, so they stared in wide-eyed silence as I stepped up to the microphone.

  I cleared my throat. Instead of speaking, I raised my hands, palms facing up. I gathered the heat inside me and directed it into two pillars of flame leaping between my palms. Gasps rose from the audience as the fire rose above my head in a perfect arc.

  Beneath my feet, the god stirred.

  “I have nothing to say to you,” I said to the parents. “My words are for the students of Miskatonic Prep only.”

  Trey’s fingers dug into my hip. I looked down at the front row, at Quinn and Ayaz, and although my words were for everyone, I spoke to them alone. “For twenty years, this school has never had a graduation ceremony – even though year after year you completed your studies, you competed in sports, you worked hard to make parents and teachers proud of you. But you’ll have one tonight. Graduation shouldn’t be about what has been – it looks to the future, and you never had a future. Until now.

  “All your lives you’ve been taught that you deserved the best in life – the best education, the best houses, the best jobs, the best seat at any table. What I ask you today is, prove them right. When you step outside this school, prove that you are worthy of all the good things that will come your way. Make the world a better place for your existence in it. If you do that, the horror of what you’ve witnessed will fade into inconsequence.”

  There was a commotion at the side of the stage. I couldn’t see what happened until someone shoved past Quinn and stormed toward me.

  Vincent.

  His face was as red as Loretta’s dress, his neck muscles bulging through his collar. As he stalked toward me, his toupee slid off his head and skidded across the floor, revealing a liver-spotted egg covered with a few tufts of grey hair.

  Behind me, Trey choked. A ripple of laughter ran through the crowd. Laughter bubbled up inside me and I couldn’t control it, so I let it roll over me, enjoying the shock on Vincent’s face as he staggered toward me on one good leg.

  Vincent let out an animalian growl and lunged at me. Trey stepped in front of me, shoving his dad in the chest. Vincent staggered back, crashing into the drum kit.

  “The time has come, Vincent.” Ms. West snapped her fingers. From stage left, Derek and Barclay wheeled out a chair, upon which was tied a gagged Gloria Haynes. Ms. West stood behind Gloria and drew a silver knife from between her breasts, pressing the blade against Gloria’s exposed neck. “You will break the sigils now and allow all of us our freedom, or I spill Gloria’s blood right here. Her fortune and her influence will be lost to you, right when you need it most.”

  Vincent just stared at her.

  “Come on, time’s a ticking.” Ms. West pressed the knife so hard a thin line of blood appeared on Gloria’s throat. Gloria thrashed and wailed behind her gag, but no one paid her any heed. “Unlike me and your kid, she’s not immortal—”

  “You’re right, she’s not immortal.” With a wild glint in his eye, Vincent whipped out a gun and shot Gloria Haynes in the face.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Her head snapped back. B
lood arced up the fairytale backdrop, splattering leaves and vines with dappled crimson.

  “What the fuck did you do!” Courtney shrieked. I’d prepared her for this possibility, but even if you hated your parents, nothing prepared you for seeing them shot in the face. Courtney rushed onto the stage and barreled into Vincent, knocking him to the ground and leaping on top of him. She hammered his face with her fists. Blood spurted from his nose, splattering across her dress before Ayaz grabbed her and dragged her off.

  In the audience, parents whimpered. Vincent staggered to his feet, lunging for his gun. Courtney wrestled herself from Ayaz’s grasp and hurtled toward him just as his fingers closed around the grip.

  BANG.

  Courtney screamed. She staggered back, clutching her chest, where a circle of red bloomed on her dress.

  “You shot me,” she growled, her eyes narrowing as she stepped toward him again. “You shot my mother. That was a mistake.”

  Vincent aimed again, but Courtney grabbed him first. She didn’t even slow down. She was Edimmu running on righteous anger. She couldn’t be stopped.

  She twisted the gun from Vincent’s hands and whipped it across his face. He dropped to his knees, frantically swiping blood from his eyes. With a wicked grin, Courtney twisted a stiletto into his crotch. He curled into a ball. Not one Eldritch Club member came to his aid.

  “Go, Courtney!” I yelled. Trey left my side. I thought he’d try to pull her off. Instead, he slammed his fist into Vincent’s face, dragging him up by his collar until father and son were nose-to-nose. Vincent opened his mouth, but only blood gurgled out.

  “You want to say something, Father?” Trey growled. “You want to berate me for not being good enough? For being weak? You want to say something about my girlfriend? Go on, I can’t hear you.”