by Amo Jones
“You’ll come to learn, or are already learning, that there are two sides to Nate. This is just him. This is how he is. How he reacts to different circumstances is always erratic, we can never be sure which side we’re going to land on. There’s the jokester side, then there’s his Malum side. He battles with the two personalities a lot, I know this, but one thing you should always remember is that both of those sides have one thing in common.”
I tilt my head, snuffling my nose. “And what’s that?”
He stares at me blankly. “You.”
Tillie
You can’t explain why people do the things they do or why they can be so vastly different. I’ve tried. Being surrounded by somewhat off-balance individuals for the better part of my life has been the biggest teacher of all when it comes to this.
So why is it that when it comes to Daemon, I can feel so strongly for him while really knowing nothing much about him. Connection? Sure. Love? A little bit. But mystery? Danger? Definitely. Daemon is the calm before the storm. You know it could be deadly, but it’s also controlled. I used to think the same about Nate and Bishop, but lately, their decisions have been driven by something far more powerful.
Love and Hate.
“How’s your head?” I ask, taking a seat on his bed beside him. This room is much like mine. They’re identical. “This place gives me the creeps.”
Daemon shuffles closer to me, his feet dangling off the bed. I turn to face him, for the first time with it just being him and I and a long stretch of silence.
“I’ve missed you.”
I lick my lips and turn to face him, my hands coming to his. He looks so different with short hair. It gives his very pretty face a rougher edge. I miss his hair. My hand comes up to his head and I stretch my fingers out over his scalp, feeling the spikes brush against the palm of my hand.
His eyes close, peace falling over his features. “I missed you too.”
His eyes slowly open onto my mouth. I freeze. With the language barrier, we’ve always gone by what feels right in the moment. He comforted me when I needed it and I lit him on fire when he craved it, but kissing him right now would feel wrong. I can’t lead him into thinking that we can pick up where we left off all those months ago. Too much has changed, so much has hardened. I’m not the same girl I was when he left me, and he’s not the same boy who I knew when I left.
I run my finger down the side of his face, dragging it over his bottom lip. “You need to be free, Daemon.”
“Free,” he mimics, his lips curving with each letter.
I nod. “Free.”
He leans away from me slightly. “I’ll never be free, Puella. Nothing can free me. Not even you.” His eyes bore into mine.
I stifle a laugh. “How could I free you?”
He doesn’t answer me, his eyes staying on mine. I fight the urge to crawl onto his lap. “Did you—” He pauses, searching around the place. “Finish my book?”
Everything fast-forwards and I’m instantly thrown back into the pages of Puer Natus. I shake my head. “Not yet.”
“Finish it,” he orders and then turns to face the wall.
I don’t have the heart to tell him that I don’t know where it is right now, so I settle on, “Can’t you just tell me how it ends?”
He doesn’t answer. He’s shut off. I slowly stand from his bed and tiptoe to where he lays. Leaning down, I press my lips to his head, holding it there for a second while inhaling the smell of dirt, blood, and something sweet.
“I’m sorry, Daemon.”
I leave, sinking into my bed once I get back into my room.
Why can’t I save him? I want to save him. I can’t save him. No one can save him but himself, and even then, I don’t even think he could save himself.
Wind whisks through my hair, flicking it up into the air as I run down the concrete path. The city is empty, and when I stop and look up, I see I’m directly outside Madison and Bishop’s apartment. There’s no doorman. No cars. No lights. No power. The sun is setting, and the burnt orange hue is slowly dropping into a deep brown. My toes curl against the rusted leaves that have fallen. Why was I running? I turn around to see ten men standing in a line, black hoodies covering their faces. Their heads slowly come up and the Día de Los Muertos face paint comes into view, but then the paint starts to slowly melt from their faces. I scream as the song “Pop Goes the Weasel” starts playing. Slamming my hands over my ears, I fall to the ground and begin rocking back and forth.
“Stop!” I scream so loud my throat throbs from the pain.
Silence finally cuts through the torturous sound. I slowly peel my eyes open, only now I’m in the middle of a cemetery. I recognize it. The stone in front of me catches my eye and I see D A E M O N spelled in Celtic font over it. Nothing else. Just Daemon.
“What?”
“Pop Goes the Weasel” starts again as the grass melts away from beneath my feet and I’m falling.
“No!” I shake my head, darkness enveloping me in the small grave. “No!” I scream, reaching for the walls but dirt fills my hands and the darkness gets more opaque. The ten Kings all circle the grave above, peering down at me.
“Let me out!”
Dirt flies into the grave, hitting my face—
I fly off the bed, but someone is sitting at the foot. Sweat is dripping down my face.
“Daemon?” I clutch the blankets up to my chin, the nightmare still fresh on my mind. It wasn’t real.
“Nightmare?” he asks without looking at me.
I lick my lips. “Yes.” I wonder what the time is, but if I’m guessing by my body clock, I would say pushing close to early morning.
“Are you okay?”
Daemon turns to face me. “No. Finish the book, Puella. For me.”
I gulp. “Okay.”
He stands and makes his way back out the door. He came in here to tell me that? Why does he scare me more than usual since he’s been back?
I rub my temples, closing my eyes while trying to form the right words or thoughts. Exhaling, I flick the blankets off of my body and step all the way down the hallway until I reach the door. I pull on the handle, but it’s locked. Just as I’m about to bang on it, it flies open and Nate is standing opposite me.
He dips his head. “Come on.”
“What about Daemon?”
Nate’s jaw clenches and he shuts the door. “He’s staying down here. By choice. Let’s go.”
I follow him as he leads me up the stairs and back to the main floor. When we reach the kitchen, Bailey is sitting on a bar stool, eating granola.
“Hey!” Her face lights up and she swings her little body off the chair, making her way to me. “Brantley said you were here, so I thought I’d come say hi.”
I pull her in for a hug, the familiarity strong. “Are you okay?” I ask, my hands coming to her arms as I search over her. “He hasn’t hurt you?”
“Stop being so dramatic, little terror.”
My cheeks hurt from the smile that’s stretching over my face. “Can I say that I prefer little terror over princess?”
Brantley pours some coffee into a mug and that’s when my eyes come to him. He’s wearing loose grey sweats and no shirt. Did I say no shirt, because I meant no fucking shirt. His floppy dark hair falls over his forehead slightly, his dark eyes zeroing in on me. The dick print is strong, and I have to fight with myself not to do something girly like bite my lip or moan.
When my eyes finally come back to Brantley’s, he’s smirking at me over the rim of his mug. “You’re drooling like you haven’t seen what’s under these pants.”
I roll my eyes, taking my attention back to something safe, like Bailey.
“How are you?”
She shrugs. “I’ll be okay. I have orders that I’ll be starting Riverside Prep next year, so I guess I’m just winging it until then.”
My eyes shoot to Brantley. “Is that right? Awful school…”
Nate kicks the backs of my legs. “That’s my sc
hool you’re talking about…literally. I own it.”
I flop down onto a bar stool as Brantley slides over a cup of coffee. I take it, sipping on the hot drink. “So what have you been doing while you’ve been here? Are you attending your old school until RPA?”
“No, I’ve taken the rest of the year off until I start.”
“Oh, that’s awful. Being stuck in this house with this bossy bastard?”
She shrugs. “It’s not all that bad. Brantley throws platinum cards at me and bought me a shiny new car.”
I smirk at Brantley. “I would call that love in their language.”
Brantley flips me off. “Shut up.”
I giggle, looking back at Bailey. “Have you heard from your parents?”
Her body visibly halts, her face falling. “Yeah once. When I told them that Brantley had taken me in, they apologized for everything and tried to cover what they had done to make me come home. I told them no. I think they were scared, to be honest.”
I snort. “With good reason. Has Brantley told you about the Vitiosis graveyard in the back? Because let me tell you…”
Bailey starts laughing, her little face tipping back. She’s so beautiful. She’s going to own that school, not just with her beauty, but with the Vitiosis name attached to it too.
“Yeah,” she chuckles. “He has. That was the first threat he gave me.” She stands from her seat, just as Bishop and Eli walk into the kitchen. “Oh! I got you a gift.”
I sit up straight. “Me? Why?”
She flushes. “I don’t know. You saved me. I’ll always owe you, but for now…”
She leans over the kitchen island, her perky, young ass in the air for all the boys to see. My eyes go straight to Nate. Bet the fucker is eating it up, but when my eyes land on his, he’s smirking at me. My stomach clenches at the stare he’s giving me.
“Surprised?” His smirk darkens.
Damnit.
Bishop isn’t taking notice, but Eli is. He tilts his head, his lips forming an O.
Brantley shakes his head, laughing.
Bailey stands back up, thank god, and hands me a small Tiffany & Co. box. “Here you go. It’s just something that reminded me of you, because of your tattoo on your thigh.”
My hand comes to my thigh before I flip open the box.
“Holy shit,” I whisper. It’s a rose gold crown with flush white diamonds glistening over every single piece of it. The chain glistens as it hits the sunlight.
I slam it shut. “I can’t accept this, Bailey. It’s too much. I like—”
“—She likes Chinese food,” Nate interrupts, choking on a laugh.
Bailey glares. “Listen, you will put it on and love it because I will be offended if you don’t. It’s nothing. Honestly, and if it makes you feel better, I paid for it with Brantley’s money, so—”
“—That money is yours too, Bailey, it’s a trust fund.”
“Shhhh.” I push my finger to my lips, grinning at Brantley. “It does make it a lot better.” I exhale, taking it out of the box. “I love it so much. Thank you.” I stand up and pull her in for a hug. “I mean it. And saving you was no problem. I wish I went with these assholes more often. Maybe I could save a few more girls,” I joke, but she stiffens in my grip.
“Yeah. If only,” she whispers, her face falling.
“Jeez, little cuz, looks like we need to work on your poker face. It’s shit.” Brantley tugs on Bailey and starts to walk her out of the room.
What? What?
“What was that about?” I ask Nate, who is still smirking at me. “Stop fucking smirking at me.”
His smile drops, and his face goes blank. Why. Why does this infuriating, frustratingly beautiful man have to be the bane of my damn existence? His lip kicks up in a smooth grin. “That is none of your business.”
Bishop tosses me a small box. “You need to get in contact with Madison and Elena. They’re both freaking out that you’re dead or gone missing. I told them that you’re fine, but I think it’ll be best if you call her yourself.”
I grip the box that contains a phone. “Really? And what am I supposed to tell her?”
Bishop’s eyes flick to Nate before coming back to me. “Not about Daemon. Just say you’re with us until we’ve sorted something.”
“What’s the thing? And you want me to lie to her about Daemon?”
Bishop glares at Nate.
“Bishop!” I snap at him, sidestepping the view of Nate. “You want me to lie to my best friend about something that will potentially push her over the edge?”
I see Bishop’s eyes harden. “She’s already over the fucking edge, Tillie.” Then he looks to Nate. “You both need to talk with her once this is over. Because there’s a whole lot that she’s not telling you.” He storms off as quickly as he stormed in. My chest tightens. I’m so sick of the dramatics.
Turning around, I find Nate. “Why is this all so difficult?”
I don’t even manage to ask where Abel has gone.
Once I’m back in my bedroom, I turn my phone on, my legs curling under my butt as I dial Madison’s number. I know her number by heart.
“Hello?” Madison answers after the fifth ring.
“Mads?”
“Tillie!” she screams through the line. “Where are you? I’m coming to get you.”
I shake my head. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“Tillie,” Madison purrs. “They’ve gotten into your head. Let me come and get you. You need some clarity.”
Well, if Daemon wants to stay down here, I guess I can tell him that she’s coming, and he needs to stay away. I hated telling him about her. It broke him just like I thought it would. Now I need to find Gabe because I need that book.
“I’m at—”
The door swings open with Nate glaring at me from the other side.
“I’ll call you back.”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asks, his eyes narrowing on my phone.
“I was going to tell her to come over and just tell Daemon to wait down here.”
Nate tugs on his hair in frustration, making the ends stick up, which in short, only accentuates his sex appeal. “Tillie, she cannot come here right now.”
“Nate, I’m going out of my fucking mind sitting here, waiting for God knows what! I’m bored.”
Nate cocks his head, his eyes dilating.
“Nope.” I shake my head. “You stay there. I’m not doing this.”
He saunters in, gripping my arm and pulling me up to my feet.
“I’m getting rather sick of being thrown around like a damn ragdoll.”
“It could be worse,” he murmurs, leading me out of my room.
“How could things possibly be any worse than being dragged around like a ragdoll?”
“You could get fucked like one too. Move. Brantley is throwing a party tonight and I need you to wipe the sad out of your eyes.”
“Hard to do—” I pause, squeezing my eyes shut to blink out the memories. Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies…
My breathing harbors my screams of when I woke and found her threatening to choke me.
“Hey!” Nate’s hands come to my arms.
I rear back. “Don’t fucking touch me.” I shove past him. “Good thing Brantley is having a party tonight. I could do with some distractions.” I stop outside Daemon’s room, pushing the door open slightly. I need something to pacify my rage that brutally rose to the surface.
His bed is empty.
I turn to face Nate, panic seizing my bones. “Where is he?”
Nate stops outside his door, staring between me and the bed.
“Goddammit, Nate!” I shove his chest. “What did you do!”
He falls backward, letting me shove at him. His eyes glass over and his jaw tenses. “He’s gone out. Will be back later.” Then he storms off and leaves me there, with an empty room and untamed thoughts.
Tillie
I tug on the hem
of the dress that I borrowed from Bailey. It’s a long sleeve, see-through black garment that cuts off at my upper thigh. I paired it with a lace black bra underneath and—black cheeky boyshorts. I’m not proud of this dress choice, but I’m feeling hasty tonight. I don’t want to think about my past. I want it to disappear. I want to feel numb. I’m tired of hurting. As much as I think to myself that I need to turn dead inside against certain things or people, I don’t work like that. I can act like situations don’t affect me, but I’m only lying to myself. I’m good with lying to myself, and to others around me. If this is the only way that I’m going to be able to swim to the shoreline of peace, then I’ll make sure I float and not sink.
The music is blasting, spilling inside from the outside garden. At night, it’s even more spooky out there. I’m not sold on it. The back of Brantley’s house shows the design of the actual house. The left and right wing is cut into a U-shape, the whole inside of that U-shape is a mass garden. Flowers of all sorts springing up, displaying the only sign of life. It’s interesting, and not something I would have expected out here. Behind the gardens is where a large bonfire is blazing through the dark night, right before the backyard morphs into the forest and, yes, the Vitiosis graveyard which is obviously hidden between the trees in the forest somewhere.
I shiver, goosebumps breaking out over my skin. Everything Bran Bran is so creepy.
A glass is handed to me from behind, so I turn to face the owner. Cash is staring down at me with an eyebrow raised. “Thought you might need this.”
“Thanks.” I take it from him, bringing the rim to my lips.
“I take it boyfriends one and two haven’t seen you yet?” He raises a perfect eyebrow, his eyes dropping down my body.
“Bran Bran and Nate? No.” I shake my head, chuckling to myself. I didn’t plan to drink tonight. I still don’t like drinking, but one glass won’t hurt. I let the burn soothe my erratic heart and thoughts.
“Come, there are a whole bunch of people here that would love to see you…”
“Really?” I smirk, assessing him. “You’re an awful friend, Cash.”